The Man in My Basement
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“You used to work for that bank, didn’t ya?” he asked.
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“Yeah?”
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“Why aren’t you there anymore?”
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“I don’t know. They just let me go.”
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“Well let’s just say that I’m lettin’ you go too.”
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It didn’t make any sense. How could he let me go if I 9
didn’t even work for him? I almost said something about 10
it, but I knew that I’d just sound stupid.
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Wilson gave me a crooked little smile and friendly nod.
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Can’t win ’em all — that’s what the gesture meant.
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I cursed him all the way down the road to the town of 14
Sag Harbor.
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I grabbed a clam roll and a beer at the stand down by the 18
pier, using the last of my paper dollars to pay for the meal.
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From then on I’d have to pay for whatever I bought in 20
change. I could already hear the teenage cashiers snicker-21
ing behind my back.
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If suicide meant just giving up, I would have dropped 23
dead at that moment. With no job, no money, and no 24
chance for a job, I was as close to penniless as a man can get.
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“Negro so poor,” my uncle Brent used to say of his less-26
fortunate brothers, “that he’d sell his shadow just to stand S 27
in your shade.”
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The weather was pleasant. I went to the end of the pier 2
and looked down at the tiny fishes coming up to get 3
warm in the weak sunlight. Two small jellyfish were wav-4
ing in the current. I sat on the edge of the big concrete 5
dock and stared down at the water. That was 10:45. At 6
12:15 I was still there. From the time I was a child, I’d 7
have moments like that. In class if I saw something inter-8
esting, usually something natural, I could stare the whole 9
period long. I never thought anything at these times. I 10
just stared at the spiderweb or the furious bird making 11
her nest. One time I watched an ant search the entire 12
third-grade floor for nearly an hour. She finally ended up 13
under Mrs. Harkness’s shoe. I was so shocked by the sud-14
den death that I broke down crying and was sent to the 15
nurse.
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I hadn’t been in the bank since I was laid off nine months 19
before. Arnold Mathias was still at his post by the door.
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Less a guard than a greeter, he knew everybody’s name 21
and any special need that he or she might have.
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“Hello, Millie,” he said to the octogenarian Mildred 23
Cosgrove, who doddered in before me. “Mr. Hickey isn’t 24
in today. He’s got flu, I believe.”
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“Oh,” the old lady said. There was shock and pain in 26
her voice. While she stood there, Arnold looked over her 27 S
head and saw me. He put up a hand, not in greeting but 28 R
to stop me until he had finished with Millie Cosgrove.
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“Will he be in later?” she asked in a fearful, tremulous 1
voice.
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“He won’t be back until next week, Millie.” Mathias, 3
himself in his late sixties and shaky, held out a hand to 4
steady the older woman.
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“Oh,” she said again. “Well maybe I better wait until 6
Monday then. You know Mr. Hickey has all my records.
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He knows what I want. Monday you say?”
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“I’m sure he’ll be back by then,” Mathias said. “And if 9
he comes back earlier, I’ll have him call you.”
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“That would be nice. Yes. You know I have to take my 11
money out of the stock market before the world goes to 12
hell in a handbasket. He talked me into it before, but now 13
I just want a passbook. I want regular interest with no 14
nonsense. The stock market is no better than roulette, 15
and gambling is a sin.”
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“I’m sure Mr. Hickey will do what you want . . .”
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The conversation went on for another few minutes. Mr.
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Mathias listened to Mildred’s woes. Everyone knew that 19
old Mrs. Cosgrove had barely a hundred-dollar balance in 20
her account. She lived off social-security checks. But her 21
family had been some of the bank’s first depositors. Treat-22
ing her nicely was the best advertisement they could have.
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“Yes, Charles?” the guard asked after Millie left. “Can I 24
help you?”
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“No.”
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“Did you want something?”
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“Can’t anyone walk into this bank, Arnold?”
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“Of course. But I didn’t think that you had an account 2
here anymore.”
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“I came to see Lainie,” I said.
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“Oh, I see. Lainie.”
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The greeter had reverted into guard and had no inten-6
tion of standing aside. So I went around him and across 7
the wide tiled floor of the bank.
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It was a domed building with a round floor. At the op-9
posite side from the entrance was a group of seven desks, 10
separated from the main room by a waist-high mahogany 11
wall. The center desk belonged to Lainie Brown.
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Lainie was the only black bank officer. She’d started as 13
secretary the year I was born. Her boss was a liberal 14
thinker, and she trained Lainie and then forced the bank 15
president, Ira Minder, to promote her.
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Lainie had been my friend at the bank. We ate lunch 17
together, and she told me that she hoped to make me into 18
a loan officer one day. But then I was fired, and that was 19
the end to my banking future and our friendship.
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“Charles.” Lainie was surprised but not necessarily 21
happy to see me. She was a heavyset woman with auburn 22
skin. Her eyes were large and spaced wider than most.
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Every tooth had a space between it, and her smile, when 24
she smiled, seemed to wrap around her whole head.
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But Lainie wasn’t smiling right then. Her look was 26
somewhere between surprise and caution. I might have 27 S
been a snake on her front porch or a strange purple sky.
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“ ’Bout time for lunch, isn’t it?” I said.
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“Uh, why I suppose it is.”
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“I already ate, but I’ll sit with you if you don’t mind.”
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“No,” her lips said. Her eyes held the same answer with 3
another meaning. I suppose somebody else might have 4
taken the hint and offered to wait until a better time.
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“Well let’s go,” I said.
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Lainie rose up out of her generous walnut seat, releas-7
ing a sweet odor. Her perfume was one of the best bene-8
fits at Harbor Savings. It was one of the few things I 9
remembered about work.
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Lainie ate a bagged lunch every day at 12:30. Ham or 15
turkey or chicken on white bread, with a fruit and a nov-16
elty cake. She sat on the picnic bench half a block up 17
from the Winter Hotel on a slip of property that was too 18
small to sell. She was wearing a white silk dress that was 19
decorated with prints of giant purple orchids. A single 20
pearl hung from a pendant around her neck. There was a 21
dark freckle on her throat, next to the pearl. I was think-22
ing that that small spot of dark flesh was far more pre-23
cious than some stone from an oyster’s belly.
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“How’s Peaches?” Lainie had regained her composure.
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She’d opened her bag and was peeling back the wax paper 26
on the sandwich to check out the meat.
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“Fine, the last time I talked to her. Her husband’s 28 R
mother passed.”
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“I know. I was at the funeral. I was surprised not to see 1
you there.”
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“Busy,” I said, not remembering the excuse I gave at the 3
time.
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Lainie took a bite out of her sandwich and smiled. She 5
always smiled after the first bite of her sandwich. She told 6
me once that her mother, Arvette, made her lunch every 7
morning. I think the bread reminded Lainie of her mother 8
the way that Catholics are supposed to be reminded of 9
their Lord when they eat that biscuit.
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Lainie and Arvette lived together just outside of town 11
in a small house where both of them had been born. Most 12
Negroes around the midisland lived in modest homes.
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Our ancestors had been farmworkers mainly. Many had 14
come from the South over the decades, looking for a place 15
they could work in peace.
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“I was out at Wilson Ryder’s new site this morning,” I 17
said.
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“Really? Mr. Gurgel is the officer in charge of that loan.
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He says that the Ryders have always been good business.”
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She took another bite. But that was just eating — no 21
smile involved.
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“Yeah. Well, anyway, I went over there to ask about a 23
job today. I mean, he had jobs. I know that because Ricky 24
Winkler works out there. But Mr. Ryder lied and said 25
that he didn’t have any jobs. And when I told him that he 26
was a liar, he started talkin’ about the bank and why didn’t S 27
I work there anymore?”
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Lainie took a big bite out of her sandwich. I think she 2
did that because she wanted time to think. After chewing 3
on her white bread and processed meat like it was a 4
mouthful of jerky, she stopped and took a deep breath. I 5
pushed down the urge to stand up and walk away.
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“Did you ever take money from your drawer?” she 7
asked.
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And suddenly it all came back to me like the plot of a 9
novel that I had read so long ago I didn’t even remember 10
the name of the book. But it wasn’t that long ago and it 11
was my own life that I was remembering.
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It wasn’t really very much at all. I was a bank teller. I 13
counted money, gave change, made debits and credits. I 14
did passbooks, Christmas clubs, checking accounts, and 15
sometimes payroll. Anything else went to another win-16
dow. I wore a jacket and slacks every day with a tie. You 17
didn’t have to wear the tie on Fridays, but I did anyway. I 18
was good at my job. Always on time, friendly with even 19
the rude customers, I was good at math too.
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But one day I was going to meet my then-girlfriend 21
China Browne for dinner. It was a Tuesday and I wasn’t 22
due for my paycheck until the end of the week. My ac-23
count was empty because I had just paid for an electric 24
food processor and China wanted to be taken out.
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So I borrowed twenty dollars from the bank. I made up 26
my mind to pay a dollar interest when I got my paycheck.
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And it really wasn’t any big sum. If they asked me about 28 R
it, I could just say that I must have made a mistake. Peo-28
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ple make mistakes in banks all the time. Mr. Gurgel, the 1
senior loan officer, once missed a zero and the bank was 2
out ninety thousand dollars for a week.
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Of course Friday came and went. China and I went 4
down to New York that weekend, so I put off returning 5
the twenty until I got paid again. But by that time two 6
more weeks had passed, and I figured if nobody noticed, 7
then why should I worry? Probably if I had left it at that, 8
everything would have been okay. But there were five or 9
six other times when I needed money. It was never more 10
than fifty dollars.
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“No,” I said.
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“Well that’s what they thought,” she said. “The presi-13
dent said that they had proof.”
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“How could that be?” I felt indignant even though I 15
knew that I was guilty. “If they had proof, then why
didn’t 16
they have me arrested?”
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“Mr. Mathias told me that they had discussed it and the 18
bank felt it wouldn’t serve their interests to prosecute.” I 19
knew that she was reporting what she heard because the 20
words she was using were not hers.
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“Why not?”
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“Because it wasn’t a lot of money and almost every col-23
ored person in the Harbor has money in the bank. If the 24
bank prosecuted you over a couple’a hundred dollars, the 25
customers might get upset and take their money to East 26
Hampton.” Lainie peered into my eyes as she spoke. I S 27
don’t know if she saw my guilt there or not.
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I was guilty. Every time I pocketed a few dollars, I ex-2
pected to return it. But it wasn’t like the money I used to 3
steal out of my uncle Brent’s wallet. I took that money be-4
cause I hated him. I hated the way he smelled and the way 5
he talked about my father. I took it because my father’s 6
family had come directly from Africa, but Brent said that 7
my father really didn’t know our roots. He said that we 8
were like all other American blacks, that we came from 9
“slave-caliber Negroes who were defeated in war and sold 10
into slavery because they didn’t have the guts to die in 11
battle.” He said that there was no such thing as free 12
Africans who had “chosen to come over and sell their 13
labor in indentured servitude” and that American Negro 14
citizens never existed before 1865, as my father claimed.
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I kept Brent’s money. He used to complain to my 16
mother, but I’d just tell her that it must be his illness 17
affecting his brain. I don’t know what she thought about 18
it all. She didn’t like Brent’s mouth either, but he was fam-19
ily and my mother was the sweetest woman in the world.
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“Well,” I said to Lainie. “I didn’t steal anything and 21
now people at the bank are telling everybody that I’m a 22
thief and I can’t get a job. And you didn’t even tell me.
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Didn’t warn me or anything.”
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“I’m sorry, Charles,” she said. “I just didn’t know what 25
to think. Mr. Mathias told me about what had happened.
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And I was afraid that you’d lose your temper and that if 27 S
they did have some kind of evidence that they’d take you 28 R
to jail. I was worried about you.”