Dark Stain (38 page)

“Poor Sam nothing.”

“Wasn’t I stupid going off with that man?”

“No.”

“He came and I went. Like a movie — ”

“You’re back — ”

“I didn’t know what I was up against, Sam. The bag was awful. It was like going into a coffin and knowing you’d never come out of it. Like being buried alive.” Her hands clutched at his coat lapels. “Don’t leave me, Sam.”

“I won’t leave you.”

“The blindfold made it worse. I kept thinking that even if I freed my hands and pulled the things off my eyes it’d still be black. I still wouldn’t be able to see. It was like a double blackness.”

“They tied your hands?”

She began to cry. He patted her shoulders, glad she was crying. A drunken couple passed by, a young girl in a fluffy dress, and a soldier. The girl giggled at the soldier. “Ain’t love grand? You gonna make me weep some day, you jerk?” At last Suzy stopped crying. In a small voice she asked him for a handkerchief. He wiped her eyes and remembered the night with Johnny after he had gone to the Harlem Y.M.C.A., remembered Johnny’s handkerchief in the Harlem drugstore. “What’s been happening?” she asked.

“Let’s beat it.”

“Sam, will you stop treating me like an invalid, you lug.”

“Damn you!” he shouted happily. “I love you. Call me lug again. Call me lug all your life.” And he watched her smile and he kissed the smile from off her lips.

“Sam, we have to put on our thinking caps as my ma would say.”

“Tomorrow, Suzy. It’s tomorrow now. Please, get some sleep.”

“Sam, if I heard that man now I’d know his voice.” She stroked his hand. “I’ll never forget his voice. They chloroformed me, Sam. The man said Johnny was at his home so we went up to some apartment. I went through the door and somebody jumped on me. I came to and I thought I was dead or dreaming. You see, I was in the bag. I heard a motor so I knew I wasn’t dead. I wanted to call for help. But the gag was in my mouth — ”

“Suzy,” he cried. “You poor kid. Maybe I ought to hear it all? The papers have been full of your — The tension’s worse than when I shot Randolph. Worse. I’m going to ask you questions. I have to.” And the girl in his arms changed into another witness to be interrogated; she had taken her place after Marian Burrow, after the detectives on some witness stand. “You said you wouldn’t forget the Negro’s voice who came to Clair’s. Why?”

“He was in the car.”

“Going out to Long Island?”

“Yes. He was sitting near me.”

“Did you drive for long?”

“I don’t know. We were riding and riding and then the car stopped and I felt them carry me out of the car into some place. The light was dim in those cracks, Sam. The light only got through at certain times. I couldn’t see to read the milk containers at first. But trying to read, gave me something to do.”

He stroked the hollows under her eyes. “Amityville milk,” he said. “It’s probably distributed for miles around. But it’s something to go on. Suzy, were they all Negroes?”

“I only heard the one, Sam.”

“The Negro who came to Clair’s office?”

“Yes. He always seemed to be outside my door.”

“Did you hear or see anyone else?”

“Nobody until tonight. Tonight — They tried to — ”

“Let’s go back to that first guy. Outside your door?”

“He sat there on a chair. I could hear his chair scrape. My eyes, my ears — ” She laughed hysterically. “Talk of mice.”

“Did you talk with him?”

“Sometimes.”

“About what?”

“I’d always ask why they’d kidnapped me? But he wouldn’t answer. Except to say, shut up. But towards the fourth or fifth day — What’s today, Sam?”

“Saturday night. Sunday morning rather.”

“Anyway, later on I must have gotten under his skin for he got mad. He said I was a white, a spy, a police spy and that I’d get my medicine. I said I wasn’t a spy and that I believed in the Negro people. He only laughed.”

“And that’s the only voice you heard?”

“Until tonight.”

He held her close to him. “Let’s get out of here.” He felt her stiffening in his arms and then she seemed to be softening all over.

“They tried to — They wanted to attack me tonight — ”

He ground his teeth together.

“Sam, this is — This is what happened — A car came. A new car. It didn’t sound like the car there. That night he didn’t bring me supper — ”

“Who? That Negro?”

“Yes. Then they were coming up the stairs and somebody was yelling to me — Something about coming here, about me coming here. He said — He said, ‘White girl’ to me. It was so dark I couldn’t see — ”

“No light,” he mumbled, speaking only to delay what she was saying to him.

“No light, Sam. I couldn’t stand it. I knew they were going to attack me. I just knew it. I hollered for him to get out. I lost my nerve, Sam. I lost my nerve. I was afraid they’d attack me and put me in the bag. In the bag. I ran towards the door. Sam, I used to dream sometimes that some day the door’d be open and I’d sneak out and they’d be sleeping and I’d escape —

It’s over, now, Sam, isn’t it?”

“Over,” he said.

“I ran into another Negro in the door, Sam. I was crazy, Sam. The Negro in the room dragged me back again and I was crazy. I bit him. I wanted to kill him. He hit me. He kept on hitting me in the stomach. I was crazy, Sam.”

He groaned, unable to restrain himself.

“He hurt me, Sam, but I was so crazy he couldn’t hurt me. It was like being in the bag again. That’s how the craziness was. In a great big bag and I was in the bag with something dirty. Sam, Sam, did you ever want to kill yourself?” She pressed closer to him. “I wasn’t so afraid suddenly, Sam. I knew I could do something. Kill myself — And I began to holler I’d kill myself. To want to kill yourself … Never to see you or ma — ”

“I’d like to kill somebody.”

“But it was true, Sam?”

“It was true.”

“I don’t understand what happened now, Sam. I was too wild, I guess. But I heard the Negro in the door shouting and then I was alone. I was alone and I was awful tired. I couldn’t stand on my feet. I sat down on the floor. Then I heard them coming back. I didn’t even try to get up but when they came for me I fought them again. They tied me up, they gagged me. They put me into the bag. That’s all, Sam. I didn’t care any more if I died. I wanted to die. And the car drove and drove and I wanted to die. Then, the car stopped and they pushed me out into a street. They untied my hands and took the gag out. And they were gone. It wasn’t real, was it? No, they’re not real,” she said, her voice stronger. “They’re nightmares. They’ll go, Sam. They’ll go.”

He fingered the safety pins. “They’re real enough.”

“Did I run! I was afraid they’d come after me. I went into the cafeteria and asked him for some pins. He looked at me. You should’ve seen that look. I must have seemed like a tramp, I guess. Dress torn, everything. He said they didn’t sell pins in a cafeteria. I didn’t have a single penny. I took your ring off and said I needed a few nickels to call you up. Would he hold the ring as security.” She laughed. “So he found pins and charged me five cents and he gave me one more nickel. Oh, Sam, ten cents for your nice ring.”

“I’m taking you some place to eat,” he said.

“I’m so tired. I want to sleep. If I sleep a little, I’ll be able to think.”

“We could go to your house.”

“All right.”

“But your mother’s not there. I’ve got the keys though, but you won’t see your mother then.”

“I’m thirsty, Sam.”

They stood up and he slid his arm around her waist.

“Sam,” she whispered.

“Yes?”

“Know where I’d like to go?”

“Where?”

“To the brightest place. The place with the most lights. Bright — ”

“Grant’s Bar on Times Square,” he smiled.

“Oh, bright, Sam. Bright. The Automat.”

The great white tiled Automat on Broadway was like a vast empty aquarium when they got there; the hour was very late and there were only a few people scattered about like the last fish of the night. Sam handed a bill to the nickel changer and picked up the piles of nickels tossed into the marble grooves. He smiled at Suzy in the electric light. The safety pins held up her torn dress at both shoulders. Her face was thinner than he had ever seen it, her cheekbones bonier, her cheeks sunken. Her neck was girlishly thin and he thought that her hands had shrunken and become smaller. Abruptly, he turned away from her. “Sit down,” he said. “I’ll bring you some milk.” He marched to the lettered mottoes: COFFEE • MILK • TEA. He fetched a glass, put it under the milk spigot, dropped in a nickel. He felt a poke in the small of his back, twisted around.

“Lug,” she scolded. She looked like a wild kid who had stayed up all night except for her eyes. Her eyes weren’t wild stay-up eyes. They were shining at him; they held love for him.

“Baby.” His voice was shaky. “Here’s your milk.”

“Lug, lug.”

The glass of milk in one hand, he hugged her to him, kissed her on the cheek. She cried out. “Don’t spill the milk.”

The manager hurried over to them. “Break it up.”

“Yes, sir,” Sam said. They sat down at a table and she sipped at the milk.

“You’re tough,” he said.

“Give me your hand.”

“What about Mr. Automat?” He reached out his hand on the table and her fingers curled into his.

“That’s better,” she said. “How do I look, messy?”

“Beautiful but skinny. On the skinny side. How about some food?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

She frowned thoughtfully. “I can eat some baked beans.”

“Hell, that ain’t food.”

“Baked beans I said.”

“All right.” He brought back two brown dishes of baked beans on a tray, two plates of rolls and butter, another glass of milk. He set the tray down and she sniffed at the beans.

“Don’t they smell elegant, Sam?”

“You bet.”

Her grey eyes flashed up at him. “Did you miss me?”

“No.”

“Who’s the milk for?”

“You.”

“I don’t want it.”

“You drink it or I’ll pour it down your throat.”

“How do I look? People keep staring at me.”

“Beautiful. Drink that milk.”

She dug her fork into the dark brown savory beans. He gazed at her. It didn’t seem true to him that she had been kept in a black room like a dog punished by a mean owner. Everything she had told him seemed like the grotesque details of a nightmare: The bag. The Negroes. The ride into the city. The safety pins. He looked at her ring hand. The ring he had given her was gone. So it was true. “Here we are eating beans.”

“They’re good,” she said. “I’ll eat yours, too, if you don’t.”

He thought of Matty Rosenberg eating his food at La Palina’s. He passed her his dab of butter. “Suzy, I know a fine Italian place. We’ll go out there for dinner one of these nights.” He sighed. “I’ve got a woman on my hands, God bless her.”

She began to sniffle as soon as he unlocked the door of her apartment. He took her into his arms. He could feel her fingers pressing into his back. “It’s over,” he said. “No fooling.”

“I know but — ”

“It’s the coming home again.” They went inside into the living room. She switched on the light and sat down on the studio bed.

“I have to phone ma, Sam.”

“Sure.”

“It feels so good. Come here.”

He sat down next to her and she kissed him.

“Sam,” she whispered. “What are you scowling for?”

“The police. They’ll want to know when you got away and where you spent the night. Don’t you see?”

“I see.”

“Well?”

“Well.”

“I’m not kidding,” he smiled.

“We were going to come here and break the news to ma. Remember?”

“I told her. We love each other, I said. We had tea.”

“I hate tea.”

“That’s what we had.” He kissed her cheeks, her eyes, her lips.

She pushed him away. “Sam, I have to know what’s been happening?”

“Tomorrow.”

“No, now.”

“You daffy kid. You’re nuts but I love you.”

“Don’t put me off.”

“Tomorrow.”

“I won’t be able to sleep until you tell me.”

He stared at her, tousled her hair. “Okay.” He related everything; his talks with Marian Burrow; what Marian had said about Aden; tonight Johnny was taking in Aden’s talk; he told her about Maddigan and Blaine and Wajek; about the newspaper stories and Vine of the C.I.O. and the labor lawyers; about the new leaflets that had appeared late Saturday night. “You’re going to be headlines again,” he concluded.

“Do you like this room?”

“What’s that got to do with — ”

“I’m asking you a civil question. Do you or don’t you?”

“I like it, daffy.”

“That settles it.”

“Settles what?”

“Dopey.” She snuggled to him. “Oh, you dope.”

“You mean — ”

“We’ll get married and move right in. You won’t mind ma living with us? She’s old, Sam. She has to live with us.”

He hugged her to him. She broke from him, walked over to the end table for a cigarette. She lit the cigarette. “I take it, it’s a deal,” she said. “Oh, Sam, I wish I didn’t have to think. I don’t trust my own reactions. I wonder what Clair’d advise — ”

“About those Negro muggers?”

“They’re not muggers.”

“I know. I said that to stop myself from saying something else.”

Tears glistened in her eyes. “I better call ma. Poor ma.”

Sunday morning at twelve o’clock, they were still coming to the offices of the Harlem Equality League. The door between the two offices had been left wide open; everywhere men and women were standing, smoking and asking questions. All the people invited had been told one thing: The Suzy Buckles kidnapping will be cleared up today; if you are interested in the disclosures come to the offices of the H.E.L. at twelve sharp. The voices were buzzing.

“That’s her.”

“Where’d she come from?”

“Is that the girl up there in the yellow dress?”

“That’s Buckles, boy.”

“What’s up?”

“How did Clair dig her up?”

“The girl in the yellow dress?”

“The man next to her is Miller.”

“Miller?”

“The other guy’s Clair.”

“I see Vincent.”