The Man in My Basement
The dying woman’s fingers got a little more agitated.
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Irene held her sister’s wrist and peered down into the half-2
closed eyes. “He’s a godsend, don’t you think?”
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The one-sided talk went on for a while. Then Irene 4
turned to me and said, “We better let her get some rest.
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You know, she hasn’t had a guest in more than three 6
years.”
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“Mr. Bennet.”
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“Mr. Dodd-Blakey.”
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Anniston Bennet was sick by this time. His eyes had 12
trouble keeping their focus even after they had become ac-13
customed to the light. Only half a loaf of bread had been 14
eaten and he was unwashed. If I had not just seen Chastity 15
Littleneck, I might have broken down right then.
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“Why do you torture me?” he asked.
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“Why don’t you just leave?”
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“I don’t know. I can’t tell. I’m supposed to be down 19
here. Trapped by a Negro, a black man, until the bubble 20
in my brain passes. Until the itch in my heart goes away.”
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He said all of that staring down at my feet. Again I didn’t 22
believe him. Anytime he showed weakness I thought it was 23
a trap.
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“That’s no answer,” I said. It was a phrase my father 25
used when I avoided his questions.
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“I swear it is,” Bennet said. “There’s a bubble in my brain, S 27
not a tumor but I can feel it. And I want to tear my chest R 28
3rd Pass Pages
ManInMyBasemnt_HCtext3P.qxd 10/24/03 8:16 PM Page 238
Walter Mosley
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open. Did you know how far a woman would go to save 2
her babies from starvation?”
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The last question took me by surprise.
