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Ninety Days Inside The Empire: A Novel by William Appleman Williams

Into the Dining Room

Page 67

"What's bothering you?"

"I'm nervous. Maybe some scared, but mostly nervous. I'm thinking about being careful in a different way -you know, bein' half-secret- and it makes me nervous. It's so different than when we were growing up, even different from being at sea. Nobody was watching us in church and no Admiral warning me not to upset the locals because we were their guests and we needed them to support the Navy. Creepy."

She walked over to him, close but not touching.

"It's not wrong to do the right thing, Cat. When you were at sea and I was working I met this Negro woman and went to lunch with her once and most of my other friends cut me dead. Well, we just kept going to lunch and pretty soon the others started comin' with us and it was all over.

She patted her belly.

"Who's ever down there wouldn't want us not to do the right thing."

Cat took her hand.

"You're kind of scared, too."

"'Course, Cat, but we just have to do it."

He embraced her and possibly they were saved being caught on the way to bed by the door bell. The door was mostly open for the next ten minutes.

First came Lette with two older Negroes that Cat vaguely remembered from Sunday. They went straight for Susan. Then the Lees. They wanted to know how well Lieutenant Wye knew Lieutenant Reis. Cat was struggling to finesse that one when Marsh walked in with a bottle of bourbon and announced that he didn't have much time but it was important. The others had just begun to give him their attention when Run-Run arrived and demanded a working party to help him unload the equipment for a newspaper.

Marsh limped back to the door, remarking over his shoulder:

"Thank God it's dark!"

The general laughter was especially relaxing for Cat and Susan. Once the mimeo machine and supplies were deposited on the dining room table Marsh reasserted his presence.

"Like I said, I'm claiming first talk here 'cause I'm busy working on the election and other matters. You'll hear about that on Friday. But right now it's the paper. It's a great idea" -he nodded to Susan- "but there's some things you need to know right at the start.

"You got to stay clear of the law. You're courting enough trouble without that, so to begin with forget advertising, forget selling it, and forget big editorials. Just stick to the news and letters.

"You got to be accurate about the news: no guessing, no wishin' makes it true. You can use information from the big papers and the radio but put it in your own words. Start neighborhood and local and see what happens.

"If, if, just maybe you get good enough people want to advertise, and put a price on it, then we'll talk some more because then you're into the law. So bring something on Friday and we'll see how it looks. Same for me."

And out the door.

The silence was finally broken by the old Negro.

"Better believe that man. He don't cater to nobody and he don't lie."

He was chunky even at close to six feet and sixty years, and his maybe wavy hair looked black until the sun or a naked hundred watt bulb revealed its auburn secret. Having offered that advice, he walked over to Susan.

"Mrs. Wye, I'm Albert Case and I think you met my wife."

"My name's Susan; and, yes, I did talk with Rozanne yesterday. It's a lovely name."

"Oh, I know:" his eyes were merry, "play lots of laughin' games with that name. But right now I got a memory bug nibblin' at me that I helped build this place. Would you show me around a bit?"