A tree grows in Brooklyn - Betty Smith [148]
“No, it’s still light outdoors.”
“It’s dark in here,” said Katie fretfully.
“I’ll light the night candle.”
Bracketed to the wall was a small shelf holding a plaster statue of the blue-robed Virgin Mary with her hands held out supplicatingly. At the foot of the image, was a thick red glass filled with yellow wax and a wick. Next to it, was a vase holding paper red roses. Francie put a lighted match to the wick. The candlelight glowed dully and ruby red through the thick glass.
“What time is it?” Katie asked after a little while.
“Ten after six.”
“You’re sure the clock is neither slow nor fast?”
“Just exactly right.”
Katie seemed satisfied. But five minutes later, she again demanded the time. It was as if she had an important rendezvous to keep and was fearful of being late.
At half past six, Francie told her the time again and added that Neeley would be home in an hour. “The minute he comes in, send him for Aunt Evy. Tell him not to take the time to walk. Find a nickel carfare for him and tell him, Evy, because she lives closer than Sissy.”
“Mama, suppose the baby comes all of a sudden and I don’t know what to do?”
“I couldn’t be that lucky—to have a baby all of a sudden. What time is it?”
“Twenty-five to seven.”
“Sure?”
“I’m sure. Mama, even if Neeley is a boy it would’ve been better if he stayed with you instead of me.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s always such a great comfort to you.” She said it without malice or jealousy. It was a simple statement of fact. “While I…I…just don’t know the right things to say to make you feel better.”
“What time is it?”
“A minute after twenty-five to seven.”
Katie was silent for a long time. When she spoke, she said the words quietly, as if speaking to herself. “No, men shouldn’t be around at that time. Yet, women make them stand next to them. They want them to hear every moan and groan and see every drop of blood and hear every tear of the flesh. What is this twisted pleasure they get out of making the man suffer along with them? They seem to be taking revenge because God made them women. What time is it?” Without waiting for an answer, she continued: “Before they’re married, they’d die if a man saw them in curl crimpers or with their corsets off. But when they have a baby, they want him to see them in the ugliest way a woman can be seen. I don’t know why. I don’t know why. A man thinks of the pain and agony that came to her out of their being together and then it isn’t good anymore to him. That’s why many men start being unfaithful after the baby….” Katie hardly realized what she was saying. She was missing Johnny so terribly and thinking so, to rationalize his not being there. “Besides, there is this: If you love someone, you’d rather suffer the pain alone to spare them. So keep your man out of the house when your time comes.”
“Yes, Mama. It’s five after seven.”
“See if Neeley’s coming.”
Francie looked and had to report that Neeley wasn’t in sight yet. Katie’s mind went back to what Francie had said about Neeley being a comfort.
“No, Francie, it’s you who’s the comfort to me now.” She sighed. “If it’s a boy, we’ll call him Johnny.”
“It will be nice, Mama, when there are four of us again.”
“Yes, it will.” After that, Katie didn’t say anything for a while. When next she asked the time, Francie told her it was a quarter past seven and that Neeley would be home soon. Katie instructed her to wrap Neeley’s nightshirt, toothbrush, a clean towel and a bit of soap in a newspaper, as Neeley was to remain at Evy’s house for the night.
Francie made two more trips to the street with the bundle under her arm before she saw Neeley coming. He was running down the street. She ran to meet him; gave him the bundle, carfare and instructions, and told him to hurry.
“How’s Mama?” he asked.
“Good.”
“You sure?”
“Sure. I hear a trolley coming. You better run.” Neeley ran.
When Francie got back, she saw that her mother’s face was bathed in sweat and that there was