A Shade of Difference (43 page)

“You’re not going?” she mimicked, adding the question mark he had tried to conceal.

“No,” he said with a real anger now, “you’re not going. And I’m not going to sit here and argue with you about it. You’re not going, period. I didn’t come home to check up. I came home to get some reports I forgot to take this morning.”

“I hope you found them,” she said with elaborate politeness. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re here, because I’ve got something to talk to you about. Something that may help you be a good colored man again.”

“Something from Patsy Labaiya,” he said with a quick suspicion. “I don’t want any part of that one. You can have her. Incidentally,” he said with an elaborate sarcasm of his own, “I trust you fine ladies had a hotsy-totsy luncheon. Where did you go—Joe’s Drive-In?”

“We went to the City Tavern,” she said with a genuine anger. “I’ll have you know that’s where we went!”

“Well, bless me! Where did they seat you, in the kitchen?”

“No! Not in the kitchen! We ate in the best part.”

“Yes,” he said, “I expect Patsy wouldn’t be seen with you anywhere else but
the
best part. It might hurt Ted’s chances if you weren’t in
the
best part. Patsy would think of that.”

“Patsy was all right! They wanted to make a fuss and Patsy wouldn’t let them. Also, Patsy could have had it in all the papers if she wanted, and she didn’t do that, either.”

“Just let me look,” he said, leafing through the
Star
to the society pages. He gave a little exclamation of triumph and was pleased to see that his wife looked startled and dismayed. “Listen to this: Patsy Jason Labaiya will never cease to shock and delight this town. Who else but Patsy would have thought of the idea of taking the wife of California’s brilliant young Negro Congressman to the swank City Tavern for lunch? The gesture of tolerance and understanding was of the dramatic nature Washington loves, and it couldn’t possibly be missed—particularly since pretty little Sue-Dan Hamilton was clad in a flaming red dress that was, to say the least, easy to spot amid more quietly dressed luncheon visitors, such as Mrs. Orrin Knox, wife of the Secretary of State, and Mrs. Robert D. Munson, wife of the Senate Majority Leader. We asked Patsy’—oh, listen to this, Sue-Dan—‘We asked Patsy, while Sue-Dan was in the powder room (and that must have been a sensation, too!), whether her luncheon with Rep. Cullee Hamilton’s wife had any political significance. The usually gracious Patsy refused to comment, but Washington doesn’t need a refresher course in arithmetic to put two and two together and come up with six, or even seven!’ … Oh, Miss Patsy wouldn’t tell the papers. Miss Patsy’s your friend. Miss Patsy and you, you’re society, Miss Sue-Dan. And we’ve just got to keep it out of the papers.”

“I know she didn’t plan it like that,” Sue-Dan said stubbornly. “It says she wouldn’t comment doesn’t it?”

“Oh, yes. It also says you had a pretty red dress, too. It
sneers
you had a pretty red dress. Let me look at that pretty red dress, Sue-Dan. My, my, that
is
a pretty red dress!”

“All right!” she said stridently. “All right now, Cullee! I want you to listen to what we talked about at that luncheon, because that’s a lot more important than all that white sneering, or yours either. You hear me? I want you to listen.”

“Don’t talk too long,” he said, throwing down the
Star.
“I wouldn’t want you to miss that plane.”

“If I ever want to go,” she flared out angrily, “I’ll go. I won’t miss the plane, either!”

He leaned back as far as he could in his chair, put his arms behind his head, sprawled his legs as far apart as they would go, and looked at her across them with an insolent expression.

“You just tell me what you and sweet old Patsy talked about. You just tell me all about it, little Sue-Dan.”

When she had, he sat suddenly upright with a sour expression.

“I won’t do it,” he said flatly. “Damn it, I said I wouldn’t be a stooge for the Jasons, and I won’t. Can’t I get that through your head?”

“Can’t I get through your head this is how to help your own people?” she demanded. “They’re all after you, Cullee—
Ebony,
and the
Defender,
and the
Afro-American,
and them. They’re going to start writing nasty things about you, such as, where was our big Congressman when that little gal wanted to go to school? Where was big brave cowardly Cullee when he let Terry carry the ball? They’re going to begin asking some mighty sharp questions about you, Cullee. Then what?”

“I won’t answer.”

“Won’t
answer!
”
she gave a hoot of spiteful laughter. “Fat lot of good that’s going to do—won’t answer! Cullee, listen to me. Patsy’s your friend—”

“Patsy’s Ted’s friend. I don’t even think she’s Felix’s friend.”

“Listen to me! Senator Van Ackerman wants to do this, and Patsy doesn’t want him to. She wants you to. She told me so I could tell you so you could get the jump on him.”

He made a disgusted movement of his mouth.

“She’s afraid of Fred Van Ackerman because of that crowd he runs with. She also wants a black boy to do it. That’s Patsy’s game. She doesn’t give a damn about anything but my color. Patsy wouldn’t want me to do it if I was bright blue, Sue-Dan. You know that. Also, how come Patsy’s such a great friend of yours, all of a sudden? I thought you didn’t like Patsy so much. Lunch at City Tavern kind of gone to your head, has it maybe?”

“Damn you!” she said bitterly. “I swear to God, Cullee, I’m trying to help you, but you don’t want to be helped, do you? You just don’t want anybody to help Mr. Old Know-It-All Cullee. Don’t want to be Senator, don’t want to be a fighter for your own people, don’t want to do anything but just—just—”

“Just want to lie in bed and do things to you, Sue-Dan,” he said with a sarcastically happy air he knew she hated. “That’s really all I want to do; you know that, now.”

“All right, stop making a joke of everything! That’s all I say, stop making a joke! You’ll push me too far some day, Cullee. Maybe right now.” A sudden shrewish expression came into her eyes. “Maybe you gone a little too far already.”

“Well,” he said, as a car door banged out front and he went to the window to look out, “here comes your ticket to New York. Now you can both slam me around.”

“Who’s that?” she asked skeptically. “Terry, maybe?”

“His Royal Highness the Shelby of Shelby,” he said, opening the door and bowing low with a flourish. “Do come in, Your Royal Highness Shelby of Shelby.”

No answering gleam of amusement or good nature greeted him from the chairman of DEFY. LeGage came into the room as though going into battle, paced up and down a couple of times, and collapsed violently into a chair.

“God damn! If I haven’t been given the old civics lecture on how to carry the flag!” A savage mockery came into his voice. “We’re all in this together, us black and white folks, did you know that? We’re all Americans, each of us, we really and truly are. If you don’t believe it, just ask the President and Orrin Knox; they’ll give you the word! We’ve got to behave real nice, because we all stand or fall together! So be nice, now, everybody, be nice! Makes white folks unhappy when you’re not, because we all stand or fall together.” He slapped the coffee table beside him with the flat of his hand. “God damn! That’s all I can say—God damn!”

Cullee Hamilton studied him for a long moment with an expression of distaste.

“What’s wrong with that, loud boy?” he asked finally. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

A look of genuine anger came into LeGage’s eyes, and the Congressman expected another outburst. But his ex-roommate spoke with a softness more ominous than anger.

“Seems to me we’ve got to have an understanding about some things, Cullee. I think you need to be set straight on the way things are going.”

“You try to tell him,” Sue-Dan said spitefully. “I’ve been trying for the past week, but it’s no good. He won’t listen. He knows it all.”

“I don’t know it all,” Cullee said. “I just know you’re riding way out there on the risky edge and I don’t intend to ride out there with you. That’s all.”

“What’s the matter, friend?” LeGage asked scornfully. “Afraid you might lose some white votes or something? Listen! One of these days it won’t matter how the white folks vote.”

“Who are you,” the Congressman asked, “the Prophet LeGage? All us Black Muslims about to hit the high road, are we? I’m glad you told me, Prophet. I didn’t know.”

“Maybe you haven’t been getting the phone calls I’ve been getting,” LeGage said softly, “but a lot of people are watching you, Cullee. They want DEFY to take out after you. The Muslims aren’t any joke, either.”

“Better stay clear of that crowd,” Cullee said with equal softness. “Real bad business, that crowd. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt playing with them, ’Gage.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt, either,” LeGage said, “but I’m telling you, Cullee, you will be if you don’t help out your own people. Everybody’s wondering about you, right now. They want to know where you were when Terry went to that school, and why you aren’t doing more now, and why you aren’t helping DEFY—”

“I told him all that,” Sue-Dan said. “I told him what to do, and he won’t listen. He’s too big for us. Don’t argue with him, ’Gage. Let’s go to New York.”

“Damn it,” Cullee said, “you’re not going to New York. Now that’s final.”

“Wonder if final does as loud as final talks,” she said airily. “You better get on back to the Hill, Mr. Congressman. Your people need you. Your white people, that is.”

“I’m going in just a minute. First I want to ask this wild man one question. Why are you so all-fired excited just because the President and Orrin Knox say we’re all one country? We are all one country. Bad or good, we’ve got to work it out here, haven’t we? Or maybe you know something I don’t know that makes it different. You leaving us, ’Gage? You going somewhere we don’t know about? Tell me, boy!”

“All my life,” LeGage said with a strange tone of lonely anger Cullee had never heard in his voice before, “I’ve been trying to play it your way, the way so many of us have tried to do in the past. I’ve been trying to get along with
them
on
their
terms. Even when I’ve led DEFY out picketing someplace, it’s been to accomplish something in a way
they
could understand, so
they
would do something about it. Well”—he drew a deep breath—“well, maybe now I’m not going to do it like that, any more. Maybe I’m going to do it the way
we
think is right, for things
we
want, and let
them
sweat, for a change. Maybe I’ve just decided I’ve got to be true to what I think is best for us, not what
they
think.” He paused somberly. “That’s about it, Cullee. And maybe I think it’s time for you to stop playing their way, and help us.”

“And maybe I would,” Cullee snapped with a sudden anger, “if maybe you weren’t running after Terry like a sweet little lap dog, and if maybe you weren’t messing around playing stooge for Felix Labaiya, and if maybe you weren’t getting ‘way out there where you can’t tell the honest colored folks from the witch doctors. What do you want to do, ’Gage—tear the country apart? That’s what Russia wants, for us all to fall to pieces fighting over race. They’re working on it every day. You want to be lap dog for them, too? Get on out of this house, if that’s it, because you’re no friend of mine.”

“I’d rather do what I think is right for my people,” ’Gage said bitterly, “than try to ride both races the way you do, Cullee.”

“Your people?
Your
people? I suppose you’re trying to say they’re not my people, too, is that it?”

“Then act like it,” LeGage said with an angry desperation. “Damn it, act like it, that’s all I say to you. Else I’m not a friend of yours, for sure, or you of me.”

“Guess that makes it unanimous,” the Congressman said coldly. “Best you run along now and be a stooge for Terry and the Commies and all that junk. I think we can get along without you in this house.”

“My house too,” Sue-Dan said sharply. “Maybe I want him here.”

“He won’t stay unless I ask him,” Cullee said tauntingly. “He wants me to ask him, don’t you, old roomy? Want Cullee to beg, right? Well, Cullee won’t beg. So get on out.”

“I want him to stay,” Sue-Dan said as LeGage made an angry gesture of protest but did not move from his chair. “You stay, ’Gage. We can make some plans for New York, once we get this white man out of here.” She gave a scornful laugh. “He’d pass right over, except he’s so black.”

“You going?” Cullee asked, feeling the old tension, the visceral clash of absolute wills, the excited combination of things, mental, emotional, physical, sexual, or what-have-you, that went back to Howard campus days. But he was unmoved and unshaken. He had always won in a showdown before, always. He was confident he would now.

Finally LeGage spoke.

“Think I’ll stay,” he said softly. The Congressman got up at once, stepped quickly to the closet, yanked his jacket off the hook, grabbed his overcoat, and turned to the door.

“Okay, I’ll go. You be good to each other, now, hear? Mighty fine bed upstairs if you want to use it, ’Gage. That little gal’s quite something when you get her in it. Be my guest.”

“That isn’t—” LeGage cried out, his face suddenly contorted with pain. “That isn’t what I—”

“I don’t care what you!” Cullee Hamilton shouted with an equal pain. “I just want to get away from both of you, that’s all, from both of you!”

But of course he knew, as he hurried to the garage, jumped in the Lincoln, and started blindly off in it, that this was not what he wanted at all, really. Not at all. But how could he go down their road, which led nowhere? How could he abandon the only thing that made sense to him, which was to try to be a responsible ambassador between the races, since he had been given the great honor of election to the Congress? How could he betray his own people, when he had it in his hands to do them more good his way than LeGage ever could in his?

“Always ragging me,” he said aloud as he turned into Sixteenth and started down across town to the State Department, “always tagging me!”

He caught a glimpse of his distraught face in the mirror and realized with a shock that his eyes were both miserably angry and filled with tears.