"Wisdom. Wisdom, That's something you don't get out of books or classes or teachers. It comes from in here," Mama said, putting her hand over her heart,
"Oh. brother" Betsy muttered, shaking her head. "You see what a weird person you married and what a weird family you married into, Daddy?"
He turned crimson. "Betsy! That's a very inappropriate remark. I want you to apologize immediately." he snapped.
Ordinarily, she would have laughed in his face, I thought, but he was giving her money; he had given her a car and was going to pay the insurance for it. She was still working to keep on his good side.
"Okay, okay," she said. "I'm sorry. I just thought it would be nice if my new brother joined me at the college. We could share homework, study together, get to know each other more and more What was so terrible about my suggestion?" she asked, her face full of self-pity.
Her father's face softened. "Well, those are all good motives. Betsy." He looked at me. "You just have to give everyone a little more time."
"Time? For what?" she cried.
"Time for relationships to develop properly. We ease into them slowly, carefully, if we want them to last and be worthwhile for all concerned," he lectured.
That was a lecture she never heard or cared to hear. I knew her well enough already to know she treated people, especially boys, like someone might treat a new flavor of the month.
"Okay, Daddy," she said sweetly."Ill give it all time. Whenever you want to know anything about the college. Noble, just ask."
Mama kept that inscrutable smile on her lips. I could hear her laughing- inside, however. That would be the day I ever needed to ask Betsy for anything or about anything, she thought. She wasn't all that wrong to think it, and as Mama had predicted, soon after Betsy had begun her classes, she came to me to help her understand things, especially the math.
Up until then, she never came to my room. Now that she and Mr. Fletcher were living with us, I kept my bedroom door shut whenever I was in the bedroom. One evening she knocked on the door and then opened it before. I had a chance to respond. I was lying on my bed reading.
"You're so smart," she began. "maybe you know what the hell this means."
Her forwardness with me made me uneasy, of course, but it also intrigued me. There was so much I didn't like about her. yet I couldn't help but be envious of the ease with which she met people, especially boys
. She had no difficulty with little intimacies, making physical contact, holding hands, brushing her body against them, toying with them, capturing their eyes and interest. Did it come from a well of stupidity and recklessness, or a well of self-confidence?
She walked into my room and sat on my bed_ slapping the math textbook on my lap. I raised my eyebrows and widened my eyes. She misinterpreted it.
"Oh. did I do some damage?" she asked flirtatiously. "Were you reading something
erotic which made you excited? I know that could be very painful for boys. Was that it?"
No!" I said too sharply and quickly. She laughed. "What do you want?"
She nodded at the opened book. "Look at that gibberish and tell me what it means. I'm supposed to do all those problems tonight."
I glanced at the pages. "Didn't your teacher talk about it in class?"
"I don't know. Maybe. I was busy!" She smiled. "Roy sat right next to me, and you can put your hand under the desk. Know what I mean?"
"Na." I really didn't.
"Maybe, if you're nice to me. Ill show you one day. So? What about the problems?"
I sat up and read the pages, hoping she didn't notice the way my hands trembled as I read. She was leaning over me, her warm breath reaching my face, the scent of her shampoo filling my nostrils. This was the way I could affect a boy if I were permitted to be who I really am, I thought. It made me nervous.
"It's elementary algebra," I began. "This is a college class?"
"Well, I guess so. I go to the college to attend it. I did take a test first and they did say something about remedial, whatever that means."
"Why is Roy Fuller in this class? Wasn't he a student there last year?" I asked, remembering some of the things I had overheard her tell her girlfriend on the phone.
"He isn't actually in the class. He just came to be with me." "The teacher lets him do that?"
"I don't know. Yes. What's the difference? Who cares about that?" She stared at me a moment. "You la-low, your problem is getting very, very serious. Noble. You need to be with people your own age. You need a girlfriend."