Tell Me How Long the Train's Been Gone by James Baldwin Page A

been a movie, and I had been holding a gun, I would have been afraid to shoot, for fear of shooting the wrong person; two creatures, eachin a dreadful, absolute, silent single-mindedness, attempting to strangle the other! I watched, crouching low. A very powerful and curious excitement mingled itself with my terror and made the terror greater. I could not move. I did not dare to move. The figures were quieter now. It seemed to me that one of them was a woman and she seemed to be crying—pleading for her life. But her sobbing was answered only by a growling sound. The muttered, joyous curses began again, the murderous ferocity began again, more bitterly than ever, and I trembled with fear and joy. The sobbing began to rise in pitch, like a song. The movement sounded like so many dull blows. Then everything was still, all movements ceased—my ears trembled. Then the blows began again and the cursing became a growling, moaning, stretched-out sigh. Then I heard only the rain and the scurrying of the rats. It was over—one of them, or both of them, lay stretched out, dead or dying, in this filthy place. It happened in Harlem every Saturday night. I could not catch my breath to scream. Then I heard a laugh, a low, happy, wicked laugh, and the figure turned in my direction and seemed to start toward me. Then I screamed and stood straight up, bumping my head on the window frame and losing my cap, and scrambled up the cellar steps, into the rain. I ran head down, like a bull, away from that house and out of that block and it was my great good luck that no person and no vehicle were in my path. I ran up the steps of my stoop and bumped into Caleb.
    â€œWhere the hell have you been? Hey! what’s the matter with you?”
    For I had jumped up on him, almost knocking him down, trembling and sobbing.
    â€œYou’re
soaked.
Leo, what’s the matter with you? Where’s your cap?”
    But I could not say anything. I held him around the neck with all my might, and I could not stop shaking.
    â€œCome on, Leo,” Caleb said, in a different tone, “tell me what’s the matter. Don’t carry on like this.” He pried my arms loose and held me away from him so that he could look into my face. “Oh, little Leo. Little Leo. What’s the matter, baby?” He looked as though he were about to cry himself and this made me cry harder than ever. He took out his handkerchief and wiped my face and made me blow my nose. My sobs began to lessen, but I could not stop trembling. He thought that I was trembling from cold and he rubbed his hands roughly up and down my back and rubbed my hands between his. “What’s the matter?”
    I did not know how to tell him.
    â€œSomebody try to beat you up?”
    I shook my head. “No.”
    â€œWhat movie did you see?”
    â€œI didn’t go. I couldn’t find nobody to take me in.”
    â€œAnd you just been wandering around in the rain all night?”
    I shook my head. “Yes.”
    He looked at me and sat down on the hallway steps. “Oh, Leo.” Then, “You mad at me?”
    I said, “No. I was scared.”
    He nodded. “I reckon you were, man,” he said. “I reckon you were.” He wiped my face again. “You ready to go upstairs? It’s getting late.”
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œHow’d you lose your cap?”
    â€œI went in a hallway to wring it out—and—I put iton the radiator and I heard some people coming—and—I ran away and I forgot it.”
    â€œWe’ll say you forgot it in the movies.”
    â€œOkay.”
    We started up the stairs.
    â€œLeo,” he said, “I’m sorry about tonight. I’m really sorry. I won’t let it happen again. You believe me?”
    â€œSure. I believe you.”
    â€œGive us a smile, then.”
    I smiled up at him. He squatted down.
    â€œGive us a kiss.”
    I kissed him.
    â€œOkay. Climb up.