I spit on your graves (7 page)

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Authors: 1920-1959 Boris Vian

Tags: #Racism, #Revenge, #Women, #Murder, #African Americans

BOOK: I spit on your graves
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"They bullwhipped me," he said.

"Who did it?"

"Bleb's gang. The Moran boy."

"That guy again!"

My fists balled up involuntarily. A bitter anger came over me.

"Do you want me to knock him off, Tom?"

"No, Lee. We couldn't. They'd kill you. You've still got a chance, Lee, you haven't got any of the signs."

"But you're a better man than I am, Tom."

"Just look at my hands, Lee. Look at my nails. And my hair and my lips. I'm black, Lee. I can't get away from it. But you !..."

He stopped talking and just looked at me. He really loved me.

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"You, Lee, you ought to get away from it. God will help you to. He'll help you, Lee."

"God doesn't give a hang," I said.

He smiled. He knew I had no more religion.

"Lee, you were too young when you left this town, and you've lost your religion, but God will forgive you when the time comes. Flee from men. But come to Him, with open arms and open heart."

"Where are you going to go, Tom? Do you need any money?"

"I've got money, Lee. I wanted to leave the house together with you. I want to..."

He stopped. The words came with difficulty from his twisted mouth.

"I want to burn the house down, Lee. Our father built it. We owe everything to him. His skin was almost that of a white man, Lee. But he never thought of going back on his race-remember, Lee? Our brother is dead, and nobody shall live in the house our father built with his own black hands."

I said nothing. I helped Tom get his things together and we piled it into the Nash. The house was situated out on the edge of town, in a rather isolated spot. I left Tom to finish up in the house, and I went over to the car to do over the bundles.

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He joined me a couple of minutes later.

"Well," he said, "Let's get going. We've got to go away because the time when there will be equal justice for the black man as well as the white man is not yet at hand."

A red light flickered in the kitchen, and then suddenly flashed brightly We heard the muffled roar of an exploding gas-can and then the bright gleam reached the window of the adjoining room. And finally a tongue of flame cut through the board wall, and the wind fanned the flame. The fire danced about and Tom's face, in the bright red light, shone with sweat. Two heavy tears rolled down his cheeks. And he placed his hand on my shoulder and we turned our backs on the scene.

I'm pretty sure Tom could have sold the house. With the money he could have caused the Morans a good bit of trouble, maybe even knock off a couple of them, but I didn't want to stop him from doing what he thought he ought to do. And I did what I thought I had to do. He still had a lot of funny ideas about kindness and godliness in his head. He was too honest, Tom was, and that's what ruined him. He thought that if he were good and kind, he would be repaid with kindness but it was quite rare that things turned out so. There is only one thing that matters, and that is to

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have revenge, full and complete revenge. I thought of the kid, who had been even whiter than I was, if that were possible. When Anne Moran's father had learned that he was going with his daughter, all hell broke loose.

But the kid had never left our town, whereas I had been away for more than ten years, in contact with people who didn't know what I came from, and I had been able to lose that abject humility that grows upon us, bit by bit, like a reflex; that hateful humility which made Tom's torn lips proffer words of compassion; the fright which made my brothers hide themselves every time they heard a white man's footsteps. But I knew that if we only had his skin we'd be ahead of him, for he talks too much and betrays his weaknesses when he's in the company of what he thinks are other white men.

With Bill, with Dick, and with Judy, I'd already gotten several points up on them. But I didn't think it worth while telling them a "nigger" had taken them-I wouldn't get what I really wanted that way. I'd have my revenge on Moran and on every last one of them when I'd done with Lou and Jean Asquith. Two at a clip, and they wouldn't get me like they did my brother.

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Tom was dozing away in the car. I stepped on the gas. I had to take him to the main Hne stop at Murchison Junction, where he'd take the streamHner up North. He'd decided to go back to New York. He was a nice guy, Tom was. A nice guy but too sentimental. Too meek and resigned.

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IX

I got back to town the next morning and went back to work without having slept at all. I wasn't sleepy. I was still waiting. It finally came about eleven o'clock in the shape of a phone-call. Jean Asquith invited me and Dex and other friends up to her place for the weekend. I accepted of course, but tried not to appear too eager.

"I'll try," I said.

"Please come," she urged me.

"You don't need men that bad, do you," I kidded her. "Or are you really out in the desert there."

"The men around here don't know what to do with a girl that's had too much to drink."

That left me cold. I guess she felt it, cause I heard a little burst of laughter.

"Really do come, Lee. I want to see you. And Lou will be glad too."

"Give her a kiss for me,' I said, "and tell her to give you a kiss for me too."

I went back to work feeling better. My morale was up. That night I went to the drug store to meet the gang, and then I took Judy and Jicky in my Nash. Maybe a car isn't the most comfortable place in the world, but you can always find a new angle. That was anoth-

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er night I slept well.

Next morning, to fill in some things I needed, I went and bought a set of toilet articles and brushes in a leather case, a valise, a new pair of pajamas, and some other little items I didn't have. I didn't want them to think I was a nobody, and I knew just about what was needed to keep from giving that impression.

Thursday evening that week, I was just finishing my records for the day and filling in the necessary forms when, around half past five, I saw Dex's car stop out at the curb. I had already locked up so I went to open up for him and he came in.

"Hiya, Lee," he called out to me, "How's things?"

"Not bad, Dex. And how's your school-work?"

"Oh, I manage. I'm not enough of an athlete to make a real first class alma mater man, you know."

"What brings you around?"

"Oh, I thought I'd take you out to supper somewhere and then take you along to see how you like some of my favorite amusements."

"Thanks, Dex. Just give me about five minutes."

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"I'll wait out in the car."

I stuffed my forms and the cash into the safe, pulled over the iron grillwork and then went out the back way carrying my jacket on my arm. It was very sticky, much too hot for that late date. The heavy, moist air made everything stick to your skin.

"Should I take the guitar along?" I asked Dex.

"No, not necessary. Tonight I'll arrange the amusements."

"Okey Doke."

I got in up front, next to him. There was no comparison between his Packard and my Nash, but he just didn't know how to drive. You've got to be really lousy to race the motor of a Packard "Clipper" in low gear.

"Where are you taking me, Dex?"

"First we'll go eat at the Stork, and then I'll take you where we're going."

"I guess you're going up to the Asquiths Saturday, aren't you."

"Yep. I'll take you along, if you like."

In that way I wouldn't have to show up in my Nash. A front like Dexter was always a good bet.

"Thanks. Glad to."

"Do you play golf, Lee?"

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"Have you got the right clothes, and a set of clubs?"

"Of course not. Who do you think I am, J.R Morgan?"

"The Asquiths have a private links. I'd advise you to say your doctor ordered you not to play."

"Do you think anybody'd believe that?" I muttered.

"And how about bridge."

"Oh, pretty fair."

"Fair, or good?"

"Just fair."

"Then I'd suggest you say that bridge is bad for your heart or something."

"But after all," I insisted, "I can play..."

"Yes, but can you afford to drop five hundred bucks just like that?"

"That wouldn't be so nice."

"Then you'd better follow my advice."

"You're just full of nice suggestions tonight, Dex." I said. "If you took me along tonight just to let me know that I'm too damn broke to go visit those people, just say so and I'll get out."

"I think you'd do better to thank me than get huffed up, Lee. All I'm doing is giving you some advice that might help you put up the proper show when you do go visit

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those people, as you call them."

"I wonder why it concerns you so much."

"Oh, it interests me."

He said nothing for a moment as he suddenly braked for a red light. The Packard swung us forth on it's springs for an instant, and then settled back,

"I don't see just what interests you."

"I'm just wondering what you intend to do with those girls."

"Any good-looking girl is worth doing something with."

"You've got dozens of girls at your feet who are just as good-looking, and much easier to get."

"I don't think you're right on the first account," I said, "nor, as a matter of fact, on the second."

He gave me a look as though he were cooking up something. I liked it better when he kept his eyes on the road.

"You surprise me, Lee."

"Frankly," I said, "those two girls are just what I go for."

"Yes, I know that's just what you like," Dex said. I was sure that wasn't all that he meant.

"I don't think it should be any harder to

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lay them than either Judy or Jicky," I said.

"Is that all you're after, Lee?"

"Just that!"

"Well all I can say is you'd better look out. I don't know just what you did to Jean, but talking with her just about five minutes on the phone, she managed to mention your name at least four times."

"Well, I guess I made quite an impression on her."

"They're not the kind of girls you can lay unless you marry them. At least I think they're like that. You know, Lee, I've known the family for all of ten years."

"Well then, I guess I can call myself lucky,' I replied, "because I don't expect to marry both of them and I can tell you right now that I expect to lay both of them."

Dexter didn't say another word, but just looked at me. I wondered if Judy had told him about our business at Jicky's house, or didn't he know a thing. I felt that he was quite capable of guessing lots of things you didn't tell him and didn't want him to know.

"O.K., you can get out now," he said.

I suddenly realized that we had stopped in front of the Stork Club, and I got out.

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Dexter followed me in, and we left our hats with the check girl. A waiter in formal dress who I knew quite well led us to our reserved table. They tried to imitate big-town style in this joint, and sometimes it was very funny. I stopped to say hello to Blackie, the band-leader, as we passed. Lots of people were having cocktails and the band was playing some dance-music. I knew most of the customers by sight. But I was used to seeing them from the orchestra platform and I now got that usual funny feeling I got when I was on the other side of the fence, with them.

We sat down, and Dex ordered a couple of double Martinis.

"Lee," he said, "I don't want to talk about it any more so I'll just say once and for, look out for those girls."

"I'm always careful," I said. "I don't know just how you meant that, but in general I know just what I'm doing."

He didn't reply to that. Two minutes later he started talking about something else. When he let himself drop his supercilious manner, he could really be an interesting talker.

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X

Both of us were pretty well tanked up by the time we got out, and I took the wheel over Dexter's protestations.

"I just want to make sure I still have my pretty face for next Saturday. You never look at the road when you drive, and I always feel that we're going to hit something."

"But you don't know the way, Lee."

"So what!" I said, "You can tell me where to turn."

"It's in a part of the town you've never seen, and it's pretty complicated."

"Oh, don't be silly, Dex. What's the name of the street?"

"Well, OK. Take us to the thirteen hundred block on Stephen Street."

"It's over there, isn't it?" I asked, pointing vaguely in the direction of the western end of town.

"Yeah,- you know where it is?"

"There's lots of things I know," I told him. "Hold tight, I'm taking off."

The Packard was a joy to drive. Dex didn't think much of it and would rather have had his old-man's Cadillac. But compared to my Nash, it was a honey.

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"The place we're going to is right on Stephen Street?"

"Near by," Dex said.

In spite of the heavy drinking we'd been doing he looked pretty sober. You could hardly tell he'd had anything.

We ended up right in the middle of the rundown part of town. Stephen Street started out all right, but after about number 200 or so we ran into some chap boarding houses, then some one-story shacks, looking more miserable the farther we went. When we reached 1300, they looked as though they could hardly keep standing. There were some old jalopies parked about, mostly model T Fords. I stopped Dex's car where he told me to.

"Come on, Lee," he said. "We'll do a stretch on foot."

He locked the car and we started out. He turned down a side street and we covered a couple of hundred feet. There were scraggly trees and tumble-down fences about. Dex stopped in front of a two-story structure, the top half of which was made of rough boards. The iron fence, surrounding a mass of debris which constituted the garden was miraculously in fairly good condition. He went in without ringing. It was almost dark already and peculiar shadows gave an eerie aspect to

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