James Baldwin - Another Country

“They were very restrained about it. Those centuries of breeding mean something, you know.”

“That’s what they kept telling me when I was over there. It didn’t seem to mean much, though, beyond poverty and corruption and disease. How did you find it?”

“I had a ball. I loved it. Of course, I wasn’t in the Army—

“Did you like the French? I couldn’t stand them; I thought they were as ugly and as phony as they come.”

“I didn’t feel that. They can be pretty damn exasperating — but, hell, I liked them.”

“Well. Of course, you’re a far more patient sort than I’ve ever been.” He grinned. “How’s your French?”

“ Du trottoir —of the sidewalk. But fluent.”

“You learn it in bed?”

He blushed. Richard watched him and laughed.

“Yes. As a matter of fact.”

Richard carried his drink to the sofa and sat down. “I can see that traveling hasn’t improved your morals any. You going to be around awhile?”

Eric sat down in the armchair across the room from Richard. “Well, I’ve got to be here at least until the play opens. But after that — who knows?”

“Well,” said Richard, and raised his glass, “here’s hoping. May it run longer than Tobacco Road .”

Eric shuddered. “Not with me in it, bud.” He drank, he lit a cigarette; a certain familiar fear and anger began to stir in him. “Tell me about yourself, bring me up to date.”

But, as he said this, he realized that he did not care what Richard had been doing. He was merely being polite because Richard was married to Cass. He wondered if he had always felt this way. Perhaps he had never been able to admit it to himself. Perhaps Richard had changed — but did people change? He wondered what he would think of Richard if he were meeting him for the first time. Then he wondered what Yves would think of these people and what these people would think of Yves.

“There isn’t much to tell. You know about the book — I’ll get a copy for you, a coming-home present—”

“ That should make you glad you’ve returned,” said Cass.

Richard looked at her, smiling. “No sabotage, please.” He said to Eric, “Cass still likes to make fun of me.” Then, “There’s a new book coming, Hollywood may buy the first one, I’ve got a TV thing coming up.”

“Anything for me in the TV bit?”

“It’s cast. Sorry. We probably couldn’t have afforded you, anyway.” The doorbell rang. Cass went to answer it.

There was suddenly a tremendous commotion at the door, sobbing and screaming, but Eric did not react until he saw the change in Richard’s face, and heard Cass’ cry. Then Richard and Eric stood up and the children came pounding into the room. Michael was sobbing and blood dripped from his nose and mouth onto his red-and-white-striped T-shirt. Paul was behind him, pale and silent, with blood on his knuckles and smeared across his face; and his white shirt was torn.

“It’s all right, Cass,” Richard said. quickly, “it’s all right. They’re not dead.” Michael ran to his father and buried his bloody face in his father’s belly. Richard looked at Paul. “What the hell’s been going on?”

Cass pulled Michael away and looked into his face. “Come on, baby, let me wash this blood away and see what’s happened to you.” Michael turned to her, still sobbing, in a state of terror. Cass held him. “Come on, darling, everything’s all right, hush now, darling, come on.” Michael was led away, his hand in Cass’ trembling hand, and Richard looked briefly at Eric, over Paul’s head.

“Come on,” he said to Paul, “what happened? You get into a fight or did you beat him up, or what?”

Paul sat down, pressing his hands together. “I don’t really know what happened.” He was on the edge of tears himself; his father waited. “We had been playing ball and then we were getting ready to come home, we weren’t doing anything, just fooling around and walking. I wasn’t paying much attention to Mike, he was behind me with some friends of his. Then”—he looked at his father—“some colored — colored boys, they came over this hill and they yelled something, I couldn’t hear what they yelled. One of them tripped me up as he passed me and they started beating up the little kids and we came running down to stop them.” He looked at his father again. “We never saw any of them before, I don’t know where they came from. One of them had Mike down on the ground, and was punching him, but I got him off.” He looked at his bloody fist. “I think I knocked a couple teeth down his throat.”

“Good for you. You didn’t get hurt yourself? How do you feel?”

“I feel all right.” But he shuddered.

“Stand up, come over here, let me look at you.”

Paul stood up and walked over to his father, who knelt down and stared into his face, prodding him gently in the belly and the chest, stroking his neck and his face. “You got a pretty bad crack in the jaw, didn’t you?”

“Mike’s hurt worse than I am.” But he suddenly began to cry. Richard’s lips puckered; he gathered his son into his arms. “Don’t cry, Paul, it’s all over now.”

But Paul could not stop, now that he had begun. “Why would they want to do a thing like that, Daddy? We never even saw them before!”

“Sometimes — sometimes the world is like that, Paul. You just have to watch out for people like that.”

“Is it because they’re colored and we’re white? Is that why?”

Again, Richard and Eric looked at each other. Richard swallowed. “The world is full of all kinds of people, and sometimes they do terrible things to each other, but — that’s not why.”

“Some colored people are very nice,” said Eric, “and some are not so nice — like white people. Some are nice and some are terrible.” But he did not sound very convincing and he wished he had held his peace.

“This kind of thing’s been happening more and more here lately,” Richard said, “and, frankly, I’m willing to cry Uncle and surrender the island back to the goddam Indians. I don’t think that they ever intended that we should he happy here.” He gave a small, dry laugh, and turned his attention to Paul again. “Would you recognize any of these boys if you saw them again?”

“I think so,” Paul said. He caught his breath and dried his eyes. “I know I’d recognize one of them, the one I hit. When the blood came out of his nose and his mouth, it looked so— ugly —against his skin.”

Richard watched him a moment. “Let’s go inside and clean up and see what’s happening to old Michael.”

“Michael can’t fight,” Paul said, “you know? And kids are always going to be picking on him.”

“Well, we’re going to have to do something about that. He’ll have to learn how to fight.” He walked to the door, with his arm on Paul’s shoulder. He turned to Eric. “Make yourself at home, will you? We’ll be back in a few minutes.” And he and Paul left the room.

Eric listened to the voices of the children and their parents, racing, indistinct, bewildered. “All kids get into fights,” said Richard, “let’s not make a big thing out of it.” “They didn’t really get into a fight,” Cass said. “They were attacked . That’s not the same thing at all, it seems to me.” “Cass, let’s not make it any worse than it is.” “I still think we ought to call the doctor; we don’t know anything about the human body, how do we know there isn’t something broken or bleeding inside? It happens all the time, people dropping dead two days after an accident.” “Okay, okay, stop being so hysterical. You want to scare them to death?” “I am not hysterical and you stop being the Rock of Gibraltar. I’m not part of your public, I know you!” “Now, what does that mean?” “Nothing. Nothing. Will you please call the doctor? ” Michael’s voice broke in, high and breaking, with a child’s terror. “Why, that’s the silliest thing I ever heard,” Cass said, in another tone and with great authority; “of course no one’s going to come in here while you’re asleep. Mama and Daddy are here and so is Paul.” Michael’s voice interrupted her again. “It’s all right, we aren’t going out,” Cass said. “We aren’t going out tonight, ” Richard said, “and Paul and I are going to teach you some tricks so kids won’t be bothering you any more. By the time we get through, those guys will be afraid of you . If they just see you coming, boy, they’ll take off in a cloud of dust.” He heard Michael’s unsteady laugh. Then he heard the sound of the phone being dialed, and Richard’s voice, and the small ring of the phone as Richard hung up.