Read Online Going to Meet the Man by James Baldwin - Free Book Online Page B

summer. The river was hidden from them now by the high bank where there were houses and where tall trees grew.
    “And this,” said his father, “is where your land ends.”
    “What?” said Eric.
    His father squatted on the ground and put one hand on Eric’s shoulder. “You know all the way we walked, from the house?” Eric nodded. “Well,” said his father, “that’s your land.”
    Eric looked back at the long way they had come, feeling his father watching him.
    His father, with a pressure on his shoulder made him turn; he pointed: “And over there. It belongs to you.” He turned him again. “And that,” he said, “that’s yours, too.”
    Eric stared at his father. “Where does it end?” he asked.
    His father rose. “I’ll show you that another day,” he said. “But it’s further than you can walk.”
    They started walking slowly, in the direction of the sun.
    “When did it get to be mine?” asked Eric.
    “The day you were born,” his father said, and looked down at him and smiled.
    “My father,” he said, after a moment, “had some of this land—and when he died, it was mine. He held on to it for me. And I did my best with the land I had, and I got some more. I’m holding on to it for you.”
    He looked down to see if Eric was listening. Eric was listening, staring at his father and looking around him at the great countryside.
    “When I get to be a real old man,” said his father, “even older than old Jamie there—you’re going to have to take care of all this. When I die it’s going to be yours.” He paused and stopped; Eric looked up at him. “When you get to be a big man, like your Papa, you’re going to get married and have children. And all this is going to be theirs.”
    “And when
they
get married?” Eric prompted.
    “All this will belong to
their
children,” his father said.
    “Forever?” cried Eric.
    “Forever,” said his father.
    They turned and started walking toward the house.
    “Jamie,” Eric asked at last, “how much land has
he
got?”
    “Jamie doesn’t have any land,” his father said.
    “Why not?” asked Eric.
    “He didn’t take care of it,” his father said, “and he lost it.”
    “Jamie doesn’t have a wife anymore, either, does he?” Eric asked.
    “No,” said his father. “He didn’t take care of her, either.”
    “And he doesn’t have any little boy,” said Eric—very sadly.
    “No,” said his father. Then he grinned. “But
I
have.”
    “
Why
doesn’t Jamie have a little boy?” asked Eric.
    His father shrugged. “Some people do, Eric, some people don’t.”
    “Will I?” asked Eric.
    “Will you what?” asked his father.
    “Will I get married and have a little boy?”
    His father seemed for a moment both amused and checked. He looked down at Eric with a strange, slow smile. “Of courseyou, will,” he said at last. “Of course you will.” And he held out his arms. “Come,” he said, “climb up. I’ll ride you on my shoulders home.”
    So Eric rode on his father’s shoulders through the wide green fields which belonged to him, into the yard which held the house which would hear the first cries of his children. His mother and Jamie sat at the table talking quietly in the silver sun. Jamie had washed his face and combed his hair, he seemed calmer, he was smiling.
    “Ah,” cried Jamie, “the lord, the master of this house arrives! And bears on his shoulders the prince, the son, and heir!” He described a flourish, bowing low in the yard. “My lords! Behold your humble, most properly chastised servant, desirous of your—compassion, your love, and your forgiveness!”
    “Frankly,” said Eric’s father, putting Eric on the ground, “I’m not sure that this is an improvement.” He looked at Jamie and frowned and grinned. “Let’s cut that cake.”
    Eric stood with his mother in the kitchen while she lit the candles—thirty-five, one, as they said, to grow on, though Jamie, surely, was far past the growing