The Kill-Off

He go on looking at me, and I know my time really come. Then, he say, that's perfectly all right, mother. Say he really didn't expect me to have any money, but he thought he should ask. Say it might've hurt my feelings, him needing money and not giving his mother the 'tunity to help.

Crazy-mean, that boy. He nice and polite that way, he crazy-meaner than ever.

'But you're quite right, mother,' he said. 'I do know where to get it. Or, more accurately, I know where I could lay my hands on a large amount of money. The difficulty is that there is another person who needs it-who will need it, I should say. His situation is quite similar to my own, and it would place him in a position practically as difficult as mine if he didn't have it. So under the circumstances- what do you think I should do, mother?'

'Huh?' I said. 'What? What you talkin' about, boy?'

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'Please don't feel I don't trust you, mother; it isn't that at all. It's just that you might be placed in a very compromising situation if I gave you any details, spoke in anything but the most general terms. And I believe you can advise me quite as well on that basis. What's your best opinion, mother? If you were in my place, would you feel justified in extricating yourself from an untenable position at this other man's expense?'

What I think? Me-what I think? What I got to think with? Or listen with, or talk with?

That mean boy, I see him too well'n too close-plenty too close, a mean-crazy boy like him-but I sure don't hear him. Might as well be talking a zillion miles away.

'Lea' me alone,' I said. 'Why you all the time devilin' me? I ain't done nothin' to you.'

'Relatively,' he nodded. 'Yes, I see. Relatively, you have done nothing. And, of course, you meant that as an answer to my question. You did mean it so, didn't you, mother?'

'Fo' God's sake,' I said. 'Fo' God's sake, jus'-'

'I suppose it's always that way, don't you, mother? It's inevitable. There are certain rigid requirements for being one's self, a tenable self. They may not be violated, despite any exigencies, regardless of the temptation and the nominal ease with which violations could be accomplished. Otherwise, he becomes another. And how, if he cannot cope with the problems of his own self-live in pride and contentment within its framework- can he dwell in that other? Obviously, he can't. He loses identity. He may have been little, but now he is nothing. He doesn't know what he is. Yes, you're absolutely right, mother. I'm so glad you could advise me out of the background of your experience.'

Don't know what he talking about.

Don't want to know.

'Now, there's another thing I wanted to ask you about, mother,' he said. 'Since I can't help myself-am past the point of help, let's say-should I help this other man? Should I remove an obstacle in the path to the solution of his problem? I have nothing to lose. It would help him immensely. In fact, he might not be able to bring himself to do it. Or if he did, he might suffer from regrets. It might cast a pall over the goal he achieves by so doing. How do you feel about it, mother? Do you think I should help him or not?'

How do I feel? What he care? What do I think? Think nothing. Just think nothing.

Can't.

Him, he might be talkin' about killing someone, and I wouldn't know it.

He look at me, one of them pretty-smooth eyebrows cocked up, them even pretty-white teeth showing; kind of smiling and kind of frowning. And I know he as mean crazy as they come-you just look at that boy and you see he is. But for maybe a second or two I don't see it. What I see is sort of a picture that all at once just popped up out of nowhere, that kinda seemed to wooze out of my eyes and spread itself over him. And me-I-I almost laugh out loud.

I think-thought, 'Why, my heavens, Hattie, what in the world has come over you? How can you be afraid of this fine young man, your son? What…?'

The picture go away, back wherever crazy place it come from. Me, she, the me that'd thought them words go back to the same place. Nothing but the regular me, now, and it don't do no thinking. Don't see nothing but through that bitty old keyhole. Just sees meanest boy that ever lived.

He been that way for years. I watch it coming on him. Oh, sure, he don't do nothing with it for a long time. He wait until he big and strong. But I see it all right, he let you see it. He nice and polite all the time, but he let you see it; make you know what you can 'spect. Poke it right at you.

'Yes, mother?' he said. 'Can you answer my question?'

'Go 'way?' I said. 'How I know? I-me-'

'Why, of course,' he said. 'Naturally, you wouldn't know. It's not something a person can advise another about, is it? The individual concerned has to make his own decision. Thank you, very much, mother. I can't tell you what a comfort it's been to talk over my problems with you. Now, I see you're looking a little tired, so perhaps I'd better…'

He stand up. He put one knee on the bed, and start to lean over toward me. Smiling that pretty white-teeth smile, fastening on to me with them soft brown eyes. An'…

Knew I was going to get it then. He had been playing around, all politey and smiley, and now he going to do it. Something mean. Something bad. Had to be, because there couldn't be no other be. Couldn't think of no other. Couldn't think no more but little old keyhole stuff.

Don't know what I going to do. House almost in a block by itself, and I yell my lungs out and no one hear me. No good yelling. Couldn't do it Nihau, scarred-sick as I was. Couldn't do nothing Nihau. Just ain't nothing to do but wait, and hope he won't be too mean. No meaner than I can stand.

Can't move. Feel like I frozen, I that stiff and cold. Can't hardly see nothing. Just kind of a white blur moving toward me, pushing right against my face. Then, I can't really see nothing. Just feel something, sort of soft and warm, pressing me on the forehead.

It go away. I get my eyes open somehow, and he standing back on the floor again.

'Good-night, mother,' he said. 'I hope you sleep well, and please don't worry about anything. After all, there's no longer anything to worry about, is there?'

He stand there and smile, and I figure he really going to get me now. He just been playing around so far, but now he through. Can't scare me no worse, so now he going to get me.

He turn around and leave. He close the door real gentle-like. But, me, I ain't being fooled. Ain't going to get me out there where he probably hiding, all set and waiting for me. Just about bound to be.

Why he act like he do if he ain't up to something? Why he make all that talk at me? Why he keep calling me mother and be so nicey- nice, and-an' kiss me goodnight?

Huh! Me, I know that boy. Seen that meanness coming on him a long, long time. He up to something all right. Fixing to get me.

I hear front door open. Hear it close.

I hear his car starting up, going away.

And all at once, I just flop over on my face and cry. Because he ain't got me, and he ain't going to. Him or nobody else.

Can't.

Just ain't nothing to get.

8:

LUANE DEVORE

It was Monday night. The dance pavilion is closed for business that night, but of course Ralph still has things to do there. Or things to do somewhere.

It was a little after eight, a little after dark. I heard the front door open quietly.

I hadn't heard Ralph's car, but I naturally assumed it was Ralph. The house is well-insulated. If he had driven up the old lane from the rear-as he sometimes does-I wouldn't have heard the car.