A tree grows in Brooklyn - Betty Smith [150]
“But the gas light hurts her eyes,” objected Francie.
Evy took the glass globe from the parlor fixture, coated the outside with soap and attached it to the bedroom fixture. When she lit the gas, there was a soft diffused light without glare. Although it was a warm May night, Evy built a fire in the range. She snapped out orders to Francie. Francie rushed around filling the kettle with water and placing it over the flames. She scoured the enameled wash basin and poured a bottle of sweet oil in it and set it on the back of the stove. The soiled clothes were dumped out of the wash basket and it was lined with a ragged but clean blanket and set up on two chairs near the stove. Evy put all the dinner plates in the oven to heat and instructed Francie to put hot plates into the basket, remove them when they cooled and substitute other hot plates.
“Has your mother any baby clothes?” she asked.
“What kind of people do you think we are?” asked Francie scornfully as she displayed a modest layette consisting of four handmade flannel kimonos, four bands, a dozen hand-hemmed diapers and four threadbare shirts which she and Neeley had worn in turn as babies. “And I made everything myself, excepting the shirts,” admitted Francie proudly.
“Hm. I see your mother’s looking for a boy,” commented Evy, examining the blue feather stitching on the kimonos. “Well, we shall see.”
When Sissy arrived, the two sisters went into the bedroom, ordering Francie to wait outside. Francie listened to them talking.
“It’s time to get the midwife,” Sissy said. “Does Francie know where she lives?”
“I didn’t make arrangements,” Katie said. “There just isn’t five dollars in the house for a midwife.”
“Well, maybe Sissy and I can raise the money,” began Evy, “if…”
“Look,” Sissy said. “I bore ten—no—eleven children. You had three and Katie had two. Among us, we had sixteen children. We ought to know enough to bring a baby.”
“All right. We’ll bring the baby,” decided Evy.
Then they closed the bedroom door. Now Francie could hear the sound of their voices but couldn’t hear what they said. She resented her aunts shutting her out like that, especially when she had been in complete charge until they came. She took the cool plates from the basket, put them into the oven and took out two heated plates. She felt all alone in the world. She wished that Neeley was home so that they could talk about olden times.
Francie opened her eyes with a start. She couldn’t have been drowsing, she thought. She just couldn’t have. She felt the plates in the basket. They were cold. Quickly she substituted hot plates. The basket had to be kept warm for the baby. She listened to the sounds from the bedroom. They had changed since she nodded. There was no more leisurely moving to and fro; no more quiet talking. Her aunts seemed to be running back and forth with quick short steps and their voices came in short sentences. She looked at the clock. Nine-thirty. Evy came out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind her.
“Here’s fifty cents, Francie. Go out and get a quarter pound of sweet butter, a box of soda crackers and two navel oranges. Tell the man you want navel. Say they’re for a sick lady.”
“But all the stores are closed.”
“Go down to Jewtown. They’re always open.”
“I’ll go in the morning.”
“Do as you’re told,” said Evy sharply.
Francie went unwillingly. Going down the last flight of stairs, she heard a hoarse guttural scream. She stopped, undecided whether to run back or to continue. She remembered Evy’s sharp command and continued down the stairs. As she reached the door, there was another and more agonized scream. She was glad to get out on to the street.
In one of the flats, the apelike teamster, ordering his unwilling wife to prepare for bed, heard Katie’s first scream and ejaculated, “Jesus!” When the second scream came, he said, “I hope to Christ she don’t keep me awake all night.” His childlike bride wept as she unfastened her dress.
* * *
Flossie Gaddis and her mother were sitting in their kitchen. Floss was sewing on another