It was a few weeks later on a Friday night. There were boxes all over the apartment. Over the past few weeks the family was very busy. They were getting ready to move to their new house.

George and Beneatha came home from an evening out. They laughed and went to the couch. When they sat down, George tried to kiss her, but she turned away. She liked George, but she wanted to talk to him, not kiss him.

“I’m trying to talk to you,” she said.

“We always talk,” said George.

Beneatha replied, “Yes, and I love to talk.”

George was impatient. He liked Beneatha. Usually. He didn’t like talking all the time. He didn’t like when she was moody or wanted to argue with him. He said, “Bennie, I don’t mind talking sometimes. But you talk too much. I don’t like it. You’re a nice-looking girl. That’s all you need, honey. Forget the talking. Guys only care about what they see. As for myself, I want a nice, simple, sophisticated girl. I don’t want a poet, okay?”

He leaned down again to kiss her, but she turned away. George crossed his arms and stood up. He turned his back to her.

“Why are you angry, George?” she asked.

“Because this is stupid!” he said. “I don’t go out with you to discuss philosophy or to hear all about your thoughts. You aren’t going to change the world, you know?”

Beneatha was surprised and angry. “Then why read books? Why go to school?”

George was annoyed. He said, “It’s simple. You read books to learn facts, to get grades, to pass the course, to get a degree. That’s all. It has nothing to do with thoughts.”

Beneatha looked at him quietly for a moment. “I see.”

George started to sit back down, but Beneatha said, “Good night, George.”

George looked at her. Well, he thought, I guess that I ought to go. As he left the apartment, Lena walked in carrying a few bags. They greeted each other. George looked at Beneatha one more time, then he walked out.

Lena saw her daughter sitting on the couch. She asked if she had a nice time with George tonight.

Beneatha said, “No. Mama, George is a fool.” She stood up and started to put the blankets on the couch for Travis.

Lena said, “A fool? Are you sure?”

“Yes,” said Beneatha.

Lena smiled, “Well, I guess you had better not waste your time with any fools.”

Beneatha stopped and watched her mother. Lena was putting away her groceries. Finally, Beneatha took her coat and purse and started to walk to her bedroom. At the door, she stopped and looked back at her mother.

“Mama,” she said. “Thank you.”

“For what?” asked Lena.

“Thank you for understanding me this time.” Beneatha smiled at her mother and closed the door.

Lena looked around the apartment and smiled. For once, Beneatha and her mother understood each other. George was not the right man for Bennie.

Lena went to the little couch and straightened up the blankets and pillows for Travis. Ruth came out of her bedroom to help. Lena asked where Walter was. Ruth looked at Lena and shook her head.

For the past few weeks, Walter was drunk every night. Now, he was lying in their bedroom.

At that moment, there was a knock at the door. Lena and Ruth looked at each other. They guessed who it was. Ruth opened the door, and there was their neighbor, Mrs. Johnson.

Mrs. Wilhemenia Othella Johnson was a small, wide-eyed lady. She was about the same age as Lena. She had a newspaper under her arm, and a big smile on her face. Mrs. Johnson was always smiling, but she didn’t have a very nice smile. She loved to gossip and talk about bad news. She was always enthusiastic about everything. Mrs. Younger didn’t like her very much.

Lena tried to be friendly, “Oh, hello there, Johnson.”

Mrs. Johnson walked into the apartment and said hello to Ruth and Lena. When she greeted Ruth, she patted her stomach. She knew that Ruth was pregnant. Ruth didn’t like being touched by Mrs. Johnson.

“Oh, you are all getting ready, aren’t you!” said Mrs. Johnson. She looked at the messy apartment with its boxes and papers. “Yes, the Youngers are really getting ready to move a little higher! Bless God!” Mrs. Johnson continued, “I’m just soooooooo happy for y’all. And Ruth looks so happy, doesn’t she? Where’s the rest of the family?”

Lena told Mrs. Johnson that Beneatha just got home from a date.

Mrs. Johnson loved to talk about other people. “Aw, isn’t that lovely. Is she still going out with the little Murchison boy? That’s lovely. You have lovely children, Younger. Isaiah and I talk about it all the time. You have fine children.”

Lena turned to Ruth and told her to get some pie for Mrs. Johnson.

“Oh honey,” said Mrs. Johnson, “I can’t stay. I just dropped in to see if there was anything I could do.”

Ruth brought the slice of sweet potato pie to Mrs. Johnson. Mrs. Johnson took it and began to eat it. “I guess you’ve seen the news that’s all over the paper this week?” she asked.

Lena said that she didn’t read the paper that week.

Mrs. Johnson looked up from her pie. Her smile was gone and she said dramatically, “You haven’t read about those Black people that were bombed out of their house?”

Ruth sat straight and took the newspaper from Mrs. Johnson. She read the article. It was an upsetting and frightening story. An African American family moved into a house in an all White neighborhood. Just like the Youngers, they wanted a better house in a less crowded neighborhood. The night before, a large group of angry White people threw rocks and bricks at the house. They broke the windows and set it on fire. The family was lucky to escape alive.

Mrs. Johnson talked while Ruth read the newspaper. “These are scary times in Chicago.” She paused for a moment and said, “Of course, I think it’s wonderful how our folks keep on pushing out. You hear how some Black folks are afraid to go into white parts of town, but I’m not afraid. I go anywhere I want, anytime I want to.” Mrs. Johnson always talked like that, but in fact she was afraid, too.

Mrs. Johnson finished her pie, and Lena offered her some more.

“No, thank you, this was lovely,” said Mrs. Johnson. “I should go home and have my midnight coffee. Some people say they can’t sleep when they drink coffee, but I always need one last cup before I go to bed. I call it my ‘goodnight’ coffee.” Mrs. Johnson laughed at her own joke.

Lena rolled her eyes a little at Ruth. She wanted Mrs. Johnson to leave, but she also wanted to be a good neighbor. She asked Ruth to get some coffee for Mrs. Johnson.

When Ruth brought Mrs. Johnson the coffee, Mrs. Johnson asked where Walter was. Lena told her that Walter was lying down.

Mrs. Johnson nodded. “He gets his beauty rest, doesn’t he? He’s a good-looking man!” Mrs. Johnson patted Ruth’s stomach again. “I guess that’s why we keep having babies around here!” She laughed and winked at Lena.

Mrs. Johnson continued talking as she drank her coffee, “Walter always knows how to have a good time. And he’s sooooooo ambitious! I bet it was his idea for you to move out to Clybourne Park. Lord, I bet this time next month your names will be in the papers.” Then she said dramatically, like she was reading a newspaper headline, “AFRICAN AMERICANS INVADE CLYBOURNE PARK – BOMBED!”

Lena and Ruth looked at Mrs. Johnson in surprise. Lena said, “We aren’t moving there to get bombed.”

Mrs. Johnson smiled, but it wasn’t a nice smile. “Oh honey, you know I’m praying to God every day that nothing bad happens. But you have to be realistic. And these poor white people are baaaaad people.”

Lena sighed. For the past few weeks, all of her friends kept telling her how worried they were. But the house in Clybourne Park was the best house that she could find. Yes, it might be dangerous. But what choice did they have? She had to hope that it would be okay. “We’ve thought all about it, Mrs. Johnson,” she said.

Beneatha came out of her bedroom. She walked toward the door. Mrs. Johnson said, “Hello there, Bennie!”

Beneatha said quickly, “Hello, Mrs. Johnson.” She didn’t stop to talk.

Mrs. Johnson asked how school was, but Beneatha just said, “Fine, thank you,” and walked into the hallway.

Mrs. Johnson felt insulted. “Well! I guess she doesn’t have time to talk.”

Lena said, “The child was on her way to the bathroom.”

“I know,” said Mrs. Johnson, “but sometimes she acts like she doesn’t have any time for anybody who hasn’t been to college. Oh, I’m not criticizing her. It’s just, you know how some of our young people get a little education. They act like they are better than the rest of us.”

Ruth and Lena didn’t say anything. Mrs. Johnson had strong opinions about young women. For one thing, she didn’t think that they should be doctors.

“Of course,” she continued. “I can understand how she must be proud and everything. She’s the only one in the family to make something of herself. I know just being a driver has never satisfied Walter. He shouldn’t feel like that though,” she added. “There’s nothing wrong with being a driver.”

Lena frowned a little. “There’s plenty wrong with it,” she said.

“What?” asked Mrs. Johnson.

“Plenty,” repeated Lena. “My husband always said that being a servant wasn’t a good thing for a man to be. He always said that a man’s hands were made to make things, not to drive a car.” She looked at her own hands, “Just like they aren’t meant to clean things for other people. My boy is just like his father. He wasn’t meant to be a servant.”

Mrs. Johnson stood up. She was offended. She thought that the Youngers were a strange family. She thought that they were too proud. They were too ambitious.

After talking for a few more moments, Mrs. Johnson said good night. “You can keep the paper,” she said as she left.

“Good night, Mrs. Johnson,” said Lena.

After the door closed, Ruth said, “That woman is so ignorant.”

“Shush,” said Lena. “Don’t talk about people behind their backs.”

Ruth laughed a little, “You do.”

“I’m old and corrupted,” said Lena. Just then Beneatha came back into the room. “You were rude to Mrs. Johnson, Beneatha. I don’t like when you are rude.”

“Mama,” said Beneatha with a sigh. “There are two things that we, as African Americans, have to overcome. One is racist violence, and the other is Mrs. Johnson.”

Lena laughed as Beneatha went back into her bedroom.

The phone rang and Ruth went to answer it. She said hello, then put the phone down for a moment. She went to her bedroom door, and told Walter that the call was for him. After a few seconds, she went back to the phone.

“Sorry. Yes, this is his wife. He’s lying down now. Yes, well, he’ll be in tomorrow. He’s been very sick. Yes, I know that he should have called. Yes, yes, I’m very sorry. Yes… Thank you very much.” She hung up the phone. She was frowning. Walter was standing in the bedroom doorway watching her.

“That was Mrs. Arnold,” she said. Walter was the driver for Mr. and Mrs. Arnold. She was calling to ask where Walter was today. Ruth continued, “She said that if you don’t come in tomorrow, they are going to hire a new driver. She said that Mr. Arnold had to take a taxi for three days. Walter, you haven’t been to work for three days! Where have you been, Walter Lee Younger? You’re going to lose your job!”

“That’s right,” said Walter calmly. He turned on the radio. He listened to the music.

“Oh, Walter,” said Ruth sadly. “Your mother and I work so hard every day.”

Lena said, “What have you been doing for the last three days, son?”

“Mama,” said Walter. “You know there are so many things to do in this city. What is today? Friday? Well, on Wednesday I borrowed Willy Harris’s car, and I went out for a drive. I drove way out, way past South Chicago. I parked the car, and I sat and looked at the steel mills all day long. Then I drove back and went to the Green Hat.” The Green Hat was a bar.

“On Thursday,” he continued,  “I borrowed the car again, and I went North. I drove for hours, way up to Wisconsin. I looked at the farms. Then I drove back and I went to the Green Hat.”

“Today,” he said, “today I just walked. All over the Southside. And I looked at all of the Black folks and they looked at me, and finally I just sat down on the curb at 39th and South Parkway, and I just sat there and watched the people go by. And then I went to the Green Hat.”

“And do you know where I am going now?” he asked. “I’m going to the Green Hat.” He picked up his coat. Ruth walked into the bedroom quietly.

Lena stood up. She walked to her purse and took some papers out. “Walter,” she said.

Walter wasn’t listening. He said, “When I’m at the Green Hat, I can just sit and drink and listen to the music. I know that nothing else matters.”

Lena touched his arm gently. Her son was so sad. He had given up. “I’ve helped you do it, haven’t I? Walter, I’ve been wrong.”

“No,” said Walter. “You’ve never been wrong about anything, Mama.”

Lena shook her head. “Listen to me. I’ve been wrong. I’ve been doing what the rest of the world has been doing to you.” She turned off the radio. They looked at each other sadly.

“Walter,” she said. “I don’t have anything. I’ve never really had anything. And I’ve never really wanted anything. The only thing I really want is for you. There’s nothing more important than you. Not money, not dreams, nothing. I won’t destroy my son.”

She held an envelope in her hand. She put it in front of him. “I paid the man thirty-five hundred dollars as a down payment for the house. That leaves sixty-five hundred dollars.”

Walter looked at the envelope.

“On Monday morning,” continued Lena, “I want you to take this money to the bank. Take three thousand dollars and put it into a savings account for Beneatha’s medical school. Put the rest into a checking account with your name on it. From now on, it’s your money. You can decide how to spend it. It’s not much, but it’s all I have in the world. I’m giving it to you. You are the head of the family now.”

Walter stared at the money. “Do you trust me like that, Mama?”

Lena said gently, “I never stopped trusting you, and I have never stopped loving you.” She touched his hand gently. She decided to let him think about it by himself. She went to her room and left him at the table with the envelope of money.

A few moments later, Travis came home. He saw his father sitting at the table. “What’s the matter, Daddy?” he said. “Are you drunk?”

Walter looked at his son sweetly. He said gently, “No, Daddy isn’t drunk. Daddy is never going to be drunk again.”

Travis went to the couch, and Walter followed him there. “Son,” he said. “I need to talk to you tonight.”

“About what?” said Travis.

“About a lot of things,” said Walter. “About you and what kind of man you are going to be when you grow up. Son, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

Travis said with a smile, “A bus driver.”
Walter laughed a little. “A what? Man, you don’t want to be a bus driver! It’s not big enough.”

“I don’t know, then,” said Travis. “I can’t make up my mind. Sometimes Mama asks me that, too.  Sometimes I tell her that I want to be just like you.”

Walter hugged his son. “You know what, Travis? In seven years you are going to be seventeen years old. Things are going to be very different for us in seven years, Travis. One day, when you are seventeen I’ll come home from my office downtown somewhere—”

“You don’t work in an office, Daddy,” said Travis with a smile.

“No, but after tonight, I’m going to have an office, a lot of offices,” said Walter.

“What are you going to do tonight, Daddy?” asked Travis.

Walter said, “You wouldn’t understand yet, son, but your daddy’s going to make a transaction, a business transaction that’s going to change our lives. Then, one day when you’re about seventeen years old I’ll come home and I’ll be pretty tired. I’ll be tired from my meetings and conferences and things like that. I’ll pull the car up in the driveway, just a plain black car. Nothing too flashy, but very elegant. I’ll have to get a car for Ruth, too. Maybe a convertible for her to go shopping in… I’ll come up the steps to the house, and the gardener will be working in the yard. I’ll go inside and Ruth will come downstairs. She’ll meet me at the door and we’ll kiss each other. She’ll take my arm and we’ll go up to your room to see you. You’ll be sitting on the floor with college catalogues. The catalogues of all the greatest schools in the world. And I’ll ask you what school you want to go to. Just tell me what you want to be, and you’ll be it. Whatever you want! You just name it son, and I’ll give you the world!”

Walter lifted Travis in his arms and kissed his face. The boy laughed and smiled at his happy father.