Invisible man

            "Gentlemahn," Ras shouted, "stick to the issue. You are not answering my question. What are you doing about the shooting?"

            I moved toward the edge of the crowd. If this went any further, it could be disastrous.

            "Stop abusing the dead for your own selfish ends," I said. "Let him rest in peace. Quit mangling his corpse!"

            I pushed away as he raged, hearing shouts of, "Tell him about it!" "Grave robber!"

            The Exhorter waved his arms and pointed, shouting, "That mahn is a paid stooge of the white enslaver! Wheere has he been for the last few months when our black babies and women have been suffering --"

            "Let the dead rest in peace," I shouted, hearing someone call "Aw man, go back to Africa. Everybody knows the brother."

            Good, I thought, good. Then there was a scuffle behind me and I whirled to see two men stop short. They were Ras's men.

            "Listen, mister," I said up to him, "if you know what's good for you, you'll call off your goons. Two of them seem to want to follow me."

            "And that is a dahm lie!" he shouted.

            "There are witnesses if anything should happen to me. A man who'll dig up the dead hardly before he's buried will try anything, but I warn you --"

            There were angry shouts from some of the crowd and I saw the men continue past me with hate in their eyes, leaving the crowd to disappear around the corner. Ras was attacking the Brotherhood now and others were answering him from the audience, and I went on, moving back toward Lenox, moving past a movie house when they grabbed me and started punching. But this time they'd picked the wrong spot, and the movie doorman intervened and they ran back toward Ras's street meeting. I thanked the doorman and went on. I had been lucky; they hadn't hurt me, but Ras was becoming bold again. On a less crowded street they might have done some damage.

            Reaching the Avenue I stepped to the curb and signaled a cab, seeing it sail by. An ambulance went past, then another cab with its flag down. I looked back. I felt that they were watching me from somewhere up the street but I couldn't see them. Why didn't a taxi come! Then three men in natty cream-colored summer suits came to stand near me at the curb, and something about them struck me like a hammer. They were all wearing dark glasses. I had seen it thousands of times, but suddenly what I had considered an empty imitation of a Hollywood fad was flooded with personal significance. Why not, I thought, why not, and shot across the street and into the air-conditioned chill of a drugstore.

            I saw them on a case strewn with sun visors, hair nets, rubber gloves, a card of false eyelashes, and seized the darkest lenses I could find. They were of a green glass so dark that it appeared black, and I put them on immediately, plunging into blackness and moving outside.

            I could barely see; it was almost dark now, and the streets swarmed in a green vagueness. I moved slowly across to stand near the subway and wait for my eyes to adjust. A strange wave of excitement boiled within me as I peered out at the sinister light. And now through the hot gusts from the underground people were emerging and I could feel the trains vibrating the walk. A cab rolled up to discharge a passenger and I was about to take it when the woman came up the stairs and stopped before me, smiling. Now what, I thought, seeing her standing there, smiling in her tight-fitting summer dress; a large young woman who reeked with Christmas Night perfume who now came close.

            "Rinehart, baby, is that you?" she said.

            Rinehart, I thought. So it works. She had her hand on my arm and faster than I thought I heard myself answer, "Is that you, baby?" and waited with tense breath.

            "Well, for once you're on time," she said. "But what you doing bareheaded, where's your new hat I bought you?"

            I wanted to laugh. The scent of Christmas Night was enfolding me now and I saw her face draw closer, her eyes widening.

            "Say, you ain't Rinehart, man. What you trying to do? You don't even talk like Rine. What's your story?"

            I laughed, backing away. "I guess we were both mistaken," I said.

            She stepped backward clutching her bag, watching me, confused.

            "I really meant no harm," I said. "I'm sorry. Who was it you mistook me for?"

            "Rinehart, and you'd better not let him catch you pretending to be him."

            "No," I said. "But you seemed so pleased to see him that I couldn't resist it. He's really a lucky man."

            "And I could have sworn you was -- Man, you git away from here before you get me in trouble," she said, moving aside, and I left.

            It was very strange. But that about the hat was a good idea, I thought, hurrying along now and looking out for Ras's men. I was wasting time. At the first hat shop I went in and bought the widest hat in stock and put it on. With this, I thought, I should be seen even in a snowstorm -- only they'd think I was someone else.