The Third Generation by Chester B. Himes Page B

greeted him as man to man. “I’m fine, son, and you look well.”
    The tots were hugging him about the waist. He patted their heads as his father”always did. “And how’re my little brothers?”
    “We’re not so little,” William said.
    “We’ve grown a lot,” Charles added.
    Their big brother laughed. But they were disappointed. He seemed a stranger with his condescending manner.
    “We got bikes for Christmas,” William informed him.
    “Come, children, let’s go home. Your brother must be tired,” their mother said.
    As before, she sat with Tom on the back seat while the tots sat up front with their father. But this time she chatted gaily all the way. The boys could scarcely get a word in edgewise as they tried to tell him what they’d been doing too. Their father was content to let the others talk. Only when they came to the entrance arch did William make them listen.
    “A lady got run over right here,” he said. Then he looked at Charles queerly.
    “You’ve forgotten I was there,” Tom replied.
    “Chuck was lookin’ right at her,” William persisted. “Blood was comin’ all out of her mouth—”
    “Hush!” his mother cried. “Hush this minute or I’ll slap you.”
    “Now, honey,” their father began placatingly, but she wouldn’t let him speak.
    “We won’t discuss it now.”
    The little children subsided into silence. Charles looked off into the distance.
    Tom was eaten up with curiosity. “What’s it all about?”
    “Charles doesn’t like to hear about it.”
    Soon they came to the top of the hill, and Tom waved merrily to Edith Patterson working in her flower garden. She dropped her hoe and ran into the house to tell her parents that Tom was back.
    But he was very grown-up in his relations with the young folk his own age. He refused to play such childish games as tag, and only on occasion would he condescend to play baseball or go fishing with the boys. Each family tried to outdo the other entertaining him. He enjoyed the picnics and the parties, although he tried to act indifferent. On the eve of Independence Day he had his mother give a garden party such as his Aunt Lou had given for her daughter, and it became the talk of the college.
    He was very devoted to his mother that summer. It was like a part in a play that he had learned in school. She was ecstatic with happiness and grew strangely youthful. She lavished affection and attention on him, and wore her prettiest things for him. She wore her hair up to please him and carried dainty parasols. Sometimes they were as gay as lovers.
    All that winter she’d worried for fear the Harts would alienate his affection. And now she’d won him back. Whatever the outcome of their precarious existence, she felt she could depend on Tom to remain true to her. She had no doubt that he would make something worthwhile out of himself; he was so sure and positive in his manner. She wanted him to become a doctor but he hadn’t decided as yet. But she was certain he would choose a calling of distinction. As for herself, it seemed that she was caught. She seemed to have lost her initiative; she found it quite impossible to take an adamant stand and leave her husband as she’d once planned. She doubted if she’d ever have the strength to leave him now. She’d have to sacrifice for the sake of her children. But she felt confident that someday Tom would grow up and, like a knight in shining armor, rescue his mother from her fate.
    He returned to Cleveland that fall. Before he left she talked to him again in private.
    “You must never forget, my son, that your grandfather was a United States Senator and you are a direct descendant of a famous United States President and of a great Confederate General—and don’t you let anyone ever tell you differently.”
    Again he was embarrassed by her strange intensity and confusing claims. But he promised to be true to her.

8
    M RS. TAYLOR TAUGHT THE CHILDREN FOR five years. They learned easily, and