A tree grows in Brooklyn - Betty Smith [169]
“Nonsense. You’ll only be fifteen next fall.”
“Seventeen,” corrected Francie, “going on eighteen; too old to start.”
“What kind of silly talk is that?”
“Not silly. On the job, I’m sixteen. I have to look and act sixteen instead of fourteen. Next year I’ll be fifteen in years but two years older in the way I’m living; too old to change back into a school girl.”
“Neeley will go back to school next week,” said Katie stubbornly, “and Francie will go back next year.”
“I hate both of you,” shouted Neeley. “And if you make me go back, I’ll run away from home. Yes, I will!” He ran out slamming the door.
Katie’s face set in lines of misery and Francie felt sorry for her. “Don’t worry, Mama. He won’t run away. He just said that.” The instant relief that came into her mother’s face angered Francie. “But I’m the one who’ll go away and I won’t make a speech about it. When the time comes that you don’t need what I earn, I’ll leave.”
“What’s gotten into my children who used to be so good?” asked Katie poignantly.
“Years have gotten into us.” Katie looked puzzled. Francie explained: “We never did get working papers.”
“But they were hard to get. The priest wanted a dollar for each baptismal certificate and I would have had to go to City Hall with you. I was nursing Laurie every two hours then, and couldn’t go. We all figured it was easier for you both to claim to be sixteen and not have all the fuss.”
“That part was all right. But saying we were sixteen, we had to be sixteen, and you treat us like thirteen-year-old children.”
“I wish your father were here. He understood things about you that I can’t get to understand.” Pain stabbed through Francie. After it passed, she told her mother that her salary was to be doubled on November first.
“Twenty dollars!” Katie’s mouth fell open in surprise. “Oh, my!” That was her usual expression when anything astonished her. “When did you know?”
“Saturday.”
“And you didn’t tell me till now.”
“No.”
“You thought if I knew that it would fix my mind about you keeping on working.”
“Yes.”
“But I didn’t know when I said it was right for Neeley to go back to school. You can see that I did what I thought was right and the money didn’t come into it. Can’t you see?” she asked pleadingly.
“No, I can’t see. I can only see that you favor Neeley more than me. You fix everything for him and tell me that I can find a way myself. Some day I’ll fool you, Mama. I’ll do what I think is right for me and it might not be right in your way.”
“I’m not worrying, because I know that I can trust my daughter.” Katie spoke with such simple dignity that Francie was ashamed of herself. “And I trust my son. He’s mad now about doing what he doesn’t want to do. But he’ll get over it and do well in school. Neeley’s a good boy.”
“Yes, he’s a good boy,” conceded Francie, “but even if he was bad, you wouldn’t notice it. But where I’m concerned…” her voice went ragged on a sob.
Katie sighed sharply but said nothing. She got up and started to clear the table. Her hand reached for a cup, and Francie, for the first time in her life, saw her mother’s hand fumble. It trembled and couldn’t connect with the cup. Francie put the cup in her mother’s hand. She noticed a big crack in the cup.
“Our family used to be like a strong cup,” thought Francie. “It was whole and sound and held things well. When Papa died, the first crack came. And this fight tonight made another crack. Soon there will be so many cracks that the cup will break and we’ll all be pieces instead of a whole thing together. I don’t want this to happen, yet I’m deliberately making a deep crack.” Her sharp sigh was just like Katie’s.
The mother went to the washbasket in which the baby was sleeping peacefully in spite of the bitter talking. Francie saw her mother’s still fumbling hands take the sleeping child from the basket. Katie sat in her rocker near the window, held her baby tightly and rocked.
Francie almost went blind with pity.