"Now back t'business. Ya think ya kin wash an dry our clothes without tearin em up or burnin em?" "Yes, Mother."
"Ya betta mean it."
Back in the kitchen we found Cal had put on water for the coffee, and he was now sitting down to peruse the morning newspaper. He put it aside and smiled when we joined him. "Good morning, Heaven. You're looking very fresh and pretty for your first day at a new school."
Kitty whipped around. "Didn't I tell ya she'd look all right soon enough?" she quibbled, sitting down, snatching up a section of the morning paper. "Gotta see what celebrity is comin t'town . ." she mumbled.
I stood in the middle of the kitchen, not knowing quite what to do. Kitty looked up, her eyes hard, cold, ruthless. "Okay, girl, cook."
Cook. I burned the thinly sliced bacon I'd never fried before. Our kind came in thick slabs, not done up in narrow slices and wrapped in fancy packages.
Kitty's eyes narrowed as she watched without comment.
I burned the toast, not knowing I'd moved the lever to dark when I'd wiped away fingerprints with the sponge Kitty had given me earlier, telling me I had to keep all chrome appliances free of spots and fingerprints.
The sunny-side ups that Cal wanted I fried too long. He barely ate his rubbery eggs. The coffee was the final straw. In a flash Kitty was up and across the slick kitchen floor, delivering to my face a stunning slap!
"ANY DAMN FOOL KIN TOAST BREAD!" she screamed. "AN IDIOT FOOL KIN FRY BACON! I should have known, should have!" She dragged me to the table and shoved me down. "I'll do it t'day, but t'morra it's you from then on--an if ya do what ya did t'day, I'll BOIL ya in wata next time! Cal, ya take yerself off t'work, buy anotha breakfast somewhere. I'll have t'stay home from work anotha hour t'enroll this kid in school."
Cal put a kiss on Kitty's rouged cheek. Not a long, passionate one, only a dutiful peck. "Take it easy on the girl, Kitty. You're expecting an awful lot when you know she's not accustomed to modern gadgets. Give her time and she'll do just fine. I can tell by her eyes that she's intelligent."
"Kin't tell by her cookin, kin ya?"
He left.
Alone with Kitty I felt a fresh wave of anxiety. Gone was the considerate woman who'd brushed my hair and curled it over her fingers. I'd already learned to fear the irrational, tempestuous swings of Kitty's moods, learned enough not to be fooled by her attempts at caring. Yet, with surprising patience, Kitty taught me all over again how to operate the kitchen range, the dishwasher, the trash compactor; and then she was instructing me on just how I had to stack the dishes, precisely stack them.
"Don't eva wanna look in these cabinets an see one thin out of place, ya understand?"
I nodded. She patted my cheek, hard. "Now run along an finish dressin, fer it's off-t'-school time."
The brick building had looked huge from the outside. Inside, I feared I'd be lost. Hundreds of adolescent children swarmed, all wearing wonderful clothes. Mine didn't fit at all. Not another girl had on the ugly kind of saddle shoes I wore, with white socks. The principal, Mr. Meeks, smiled at Kitty as if overwhelmed to see such a voluptuous woman in his office. He beamed at her bosom, which was on his eye level, and darn if he could raise his eyes long enough to see she had a pretty face as well.
"Why, of course, Mrs. Dennison, I'll take good care of your daughter, of course, why, of course . . ."
"Gonna go now," said Kitty at the door that would take her out into the hall. "Do what teachers tell ya t'do, an walk home. I've left ya a list of what t'do when I'm not there. Ya'll find t'cards on t'kitchen table. Hope t'come home t'a cleana, betta house-- understand?"
"Yes, Mother."
She beamed at the principal, then sashayed down the hall, and darn if he didn't follow out to the hall to watch her departure. I realized from the way he stared after her that Kitty was the woman of many men's fantasies, all her feminine differences
exaggerated.
It was hard that first day. I don't know if I imagined the hostility, or if it was real. I felt selfconscious with my long, wild hair, my cheap, illfitting clothes (better than any I'd owned before, and yet I wasn't happy), my obvious distress at not knowing where to go or how to find the girls' room. A pretty-looking girl with brown hair took pity on me and showed me around between classes.
I was given tests to see which class my country education had prepared me for. I smiled to read the questions. Why, Miss Deale had covered all this a long time ago. And then I was thinking of Tom, and tears slipped from my eyes. I was placed in the ninth grade.
Somehow I found my way around the school, and managed to get through a day that was
exceptionally long and tiring, and slowly, slowly, I walked home. It wasn't nearly as cold here as it had been in the mountains, nor was it as pretty. No white water bubbling over rocks, and no rabbits, squirrels, and raccoons. Just a cold winter's day, a bleak gray sky, and strange faces to tell me I was an alien in this city world.
I reached Eastwood Street, turned in at 210, used the key Kitty had given me, took off my new blue coat, hung it carefully in the hall closet, then hurried into the kitchen to stare at the five-by-eight cards on the kitchen table. I could almost hear Kitty saying, "Read those ova. List of instructions. Read em an learn yer duties."
"Yes."
"Yes what?"
"Yes, Mother."