back at the children's book.
"Tell my father I'm not coming home tonight,"
she shouted from the hallway. "Not that he'll notice.
His eyes are too full of his new love."
I heard the door open and slam shut. Moments
later, she was in her car and kicking up gravel as she
spun around and drove down the driveway. I listened
and then looked at Baby Celeste.
"Betsy's sick," she said.
I laughed. "Yes. Betsy's sick. The thing is, she
doesn't know it and maybe she never will."
"Sick."
"Why do you say that, Celeste?"
She didn't reply. She looked at her book again
and picked up the story where we had left it before
Betsy's intrusion. Later. when Mama and Dave
returned, he was angry when I gave him Betsy's
message.
"This isn't going to go on like this much
longer," he vowed. "I don't care how old she is She
has to show us some respect here and take on some
responsibilities. With the light subject load she has at
the community college, there is no reason why she
can't get a part- time job and help support herself and
especially that car.
"And she doesn't even ask if you need any help
with the house and the meals. Sarah. You're too nice
to her, letting her yet away without doing more." "I know. Dave," Mama said. "Don't get yourself
all worked up again."
"I don't know whether I'm better off with her