A tree grows in Brooklyn - Betty Smith [42]
The bank in place, she put on her nightgown again, started off the land account by putting a nickel in the bank and got back into bed. She listened excitedly while Katie told her about the two books. She promised that she would get the two books; they would be her christening present to the baby.
Francie spent her first night on earth sleeping snugly between her mother and Sissy.
The next day, Sissy set about getting the two books. She went to a public library and asked the librarian how she could get a Shakespeare and a Bible for keeps. The librarian couldn’t help her out on the Bible but said there was a worn-out copy of Shakespeare in the files, about to be discarded, which Sissy could have. She bought it. It was a tattered old volume containing all the plays and sonnets. It had intricate footnotes and detailed explanations as to the playwright’s meaning. There was a biography and picture of the author and steel-cut engravings illustrating scenes from each play. It was printed in small type, two columns to the page on thin paper. It cost Sissy twenty-five cents.
The Bible, while a little harder to come by, was cheaper in the long run. In fact, it cost Sissy nothing. It had a name, Gideon, on the front.
A few days after buying the volume of Shakespeare, Sissy woke up one morning and nudged her current lover, with whom she was spending the night in a quiet family hotel.
“John,” (she called him John although his name was Charlie), “what’s that book on the dresser?”
“A Bible.”
“A Protestant Bible?”
“That’s right.”
“I’m going to hook it.”
“Go ahead. That’s why they put it there.”
“No!”
“Yeah!”
“No kidding!”
“People swipe it, read it, reform and repent. They bring it back and buy another one, too, so that other people can swipe, read and reform. In that way, the firm that puts out the books loses nothing.”
“Well, here’s one they’re not going to get back.” She wrapped it up in a hotel towel that she was also swiping.
“Say!” A cold fear enveloped her John. “You might read it and reform and then I’d have to go back to my wife.” He shuddered and put his arms around her. “Promise me that you won’t reform.”
“I won’t.”
“How do you know you won’t?”
“I never listen to what people tell me and I can’t read. The only way I know what is right and wrong is the way I feel about things. If I feel bad, it’s wrong. If I feel good, it’s right. And I feel good being here with you.” She threw her arm across his chest and exploded a kiss in his ear.
“I sure wish we could get married, Sissy.”
“So do I, John. I know we could hit it off. For a while, anyhow,” she added honestly.
“But I’m married and that’s the hell of the Catholic religion. No divorce.”
“I don’t believe in divorce anyhow,” said Sissy who always remarried without the benefit of a divorce.
“You know what, Sissy?”
“What?”
“You got a heart of gold.”
“No kidding?”
“No kidding.” He watched her snap a red silk garter over the sheer lisle stocking she had pulled up over her shapely leg. “Give us a kiss,” he begged suddenly.
“Have we time?” she asked in a practical way. But she pulled the stocking off again.
That’s how the library of Francie Nolan was started.
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