ANY DAY NOW
289
ged and stung. There had been a few colored boys in his high
school but they had mainly stayed together, as far as he
remembered. He had known boys who got a bang out of going
out and beating up niggers. He was not the kind of person who
beat up other people, especially not while travelling in a mob,
any more than he was the kind of person who pulled wings
off flies. But, as the suffering of the fly had never in the least
engaged his imagination, neither had the fury of a nigger. It
scarcely seemed possible- it scarcely, even, seemed fair-that
colored boys who were beaten up in high school could grow
up into colored men who wanted to beat up everyone in sight,
including, or perhaps especially, people who had never, one way
or another, given them a thought. He watched the light in
Rufus's window, the only light on down here.
He climbed the stairs to Rufus's apartment and walked
in without knocking. Rufus was standing near the door, holding
a knife.
"Is that for me or for you? Or were you planning to cut
yourself a hunk of salami?"
He forced himself to stand where he was and to look
directly at Rufus.
"I was thinking about putting it into you, motherf*****."
But he had not moved. Vivaldo slowly let out his breath.
"W!ell, put it down.
If
I ever saw a poor bastard who
needed his friends, you're it."
They watched each other for what seemed like a very
long time and neither of them moved. They stared into each
other's eyes, each, perhaps, searching for the friend each
remembered. Vivaldo knew the face before him so well that he
had ceased, in a way, to look at it and now
his
heart turned
over to see what time had done to Rufus. He had not seen
before the fine lines in the forehead, the deep, crooked line
between the brows, the tension which soured the lips. He wonder–
ed what the eyes were seeing-they had not been seeing it years
before. He had never associated Rufus with violence, for his
