"Yes," I said. "I don't lie," I added.
"Good. Le
t's begin slowly. Making close friends, as close as you and I are going to be, takes time. It's like easing yourself into a hot bath, getting used to the water. Do you know what I mean?"
"I don't make the water that hot," I said.
She didn't smile. She looked like she was chewing the inside of her mouth for a moment, chewing on her words or thoughts, but in' stead of swallowing them, blowing them out toward me.
"Sometimes people don't mean exactly what they say. You must learn not to take every word exactly as it seems."
"If they don't mean what they say, they might be lying," I said.
Again, she didn't smile. She stared at me, nothing in her face moving this time.
"I think your grandmother might be
underestimating you," she said, but it seemed to me she was saying it to herself and not to me. "Okay," she continued. "I know about your little problem. I know why we're all going to see the doctor in a little while. I had some students who had the same problem you have," she said. "I can help you with all that."
I lifted my eyebrows. Why did she call it a little problem when everyone else made it sound big? Was it only a little problem? If she had students with the same problem, she would know things to tell me. Would she tell me the same sort of things Flora had told me? Without my book, without Ian and Mama talking to me. I felt as though all the questions hovered above me like persistent tiny flies people called no-see-ems. Answers were the only way to move those annoying flies away.
"Grandmother Emma said you would answer all my questions from now on and I should ask only you,"
"That's right. I know you've already been told a great deal and I'll have to be sure you were told everything correctly, so I might go over things you supposedly know."
"It's important to know what's happening in your own body," I said, parroting Ian and getting more enthusiastic. Perhaps my conversations with her wouldn't be so boring after all and wouldn't be anything like being in a classroom. Grandmother Emma might just have done a very good thing bringing her to the house. I thought.
"Yes, that's true about your own body, as long as you learn things about it from mature and responsible people. I know you will have many more questions about yourself than girls without your problems have at your age."
I thought a moment and then decided to test her.
"I still don't understand what an orgasm is," I said, and she bristled like someone who had just had a dozen ice cubes dropped down her back.
She shot up.
"That's disgusting coming out of the mouth of a girl who was just seven. That's entirely inappropriate and we're going to deal with such filth immediately. Get up!" she ordered.
I stood up slowly. Why did she want me to get up?
She approached me, reached out, and seized my wrist, pulling me across the room to my parents' bathroom. She pulled so hard. I nearly tripped, but I sensed she would drag me over the floor if I fell anyway. I protested, but she didn't stop.
At the sink she ran the water and then put a cake of soap under it. I watched her, confused, until she slapped it against my mouth and held the back of my head so I couldn't retreat as she scrubbed against my clenched teeth, the taste of soap seeping through and making me gag.
"This will clean out your filthy mouth," she said. Then she released me.
I spit into the sink and as soon as I could, screamed at the top of my voice. She slapped my face and clutched my hair, pulling so hard. I felt tears burn my eyes. I kept screaming.
"Stop that screaming immediately. Stop it!" she ordered. I sucked in and heaved as I held my breath.
"That's better. I'm sorry, but I had to teach you a lesson quickly. We don't have all that much time to waste and your grandmother is very, very concerned about what has been done to you and what has happened to you and what could happen to you. I'm sure you learned that word from Ian.
"When you calm down. I'll tell you more and you'll understand, but for now, this is the best way. I know. I've been a teacher of children your age for many, many years. Now wash your face and dry it and we'll continue talking until your grandmother calls for us."
Tears were streaming down my cheeks. I dried my face slowly and then spit and spit into the sink, but the taste of the soap wouldn't go away. Impatient with how long I was taking, she grasped my shoulders and forcefully turned me from the sink. She held onto me to direct me to leave the bathroom. When we stepped out. I saw Ian standing in the bedroom doorway.
"Why was she screamina?" he demanded, his hands on his hips. I was never so happy to see him.
"You need to learn some manners. I see," Miss Harper replied. "When you enter a room, especially a lady's room, you knock and wait to be admitted. You don't come barging in like this. Now turn around, close the door, and knock," she said.