SONNY'S
BLUES
343
"You getting to be a big boy," I said desperately, "it's time you
started thinking about your future."
"I'm thinking about my future," said Sonny, grimly. "I think
about it all the time."
I gave up. I decided, if he didn't change his mind, that we could
always talk about it later. "In the meantime," I said, "you got to
finish school." We had already decided that he'd have to move in
with Isabel and her folks. I knew this wasn't the ideal arrangement
because Isabel's folks are inclined to be dicty and they hadn't especial–
ly wanted Isabel to marry me. But I didn't know what else to do.
"And we have to get you fixed up at Isabel's."
There was a long silence. He moved from the kitchen table to
the window. "That's a terrible idea. You know it yourself."
"Do you have a
better
idea?"
He just walked up and down the kitchen for a minute. He was as
tall as I was. He had started to shave. I suddenly had the feeling
that I didn't know him at all.
He stopped at the kitchen table and picked up my cigarettes.
Looking at me with a kind of mocking, amused defiance, he put
one between his lips. "You mind?"
"You smoking already?"
He lit the cigarette and nodded, watching me through the smoke.
"I just wanted to see if I'd have the courage to smoke in front of
you." He grinned and blew a great cloud of smoke to the ceiling.
"It was easy." He looked at my face. "Come on, now. I bet you was
smoking at my age, tell the truth."
I didn't say anything but the truth was on my face, and he
laughed. But now there was something very strained in his laugh.
"Sure. And I bet that ain't all you was doing."
He was frightening me a little. "Cut the crap," I said. " We al–
ready decided that you was going to go and live at Isabel's. Now
what's got into you all of a sudden?"
"You
decided it," he pointed out. "I didn't decide nothing."
He stopped in front of me, leaning against the stove, arms loosely
folded. "Look, brother. I don't want to stay in Harlem no more, I
really don't." He was very earnest. He looked at me, then over
toward the kitchen window. There was something
in
his eyes I'd
never seen before, some thoughtfulness, some worry all his own. He
rubbed the muscle of one arm. "It's time I was getting out of here."
