“To my biby I am prou’ of, you work very har’, you deser’ wha’ you get.”
My mother lifted her glass and, it almost goes without saying, her chin in the air. Fishing nets were strung up on the walls around us as though we were part of the catch, (clients, or suckers as my mother would put it when she would have to pay for anything). One dollar bills with signatures on them were tacked on the wall behind the cashier. My mother looked at these with distaste.
“I hope you order-ed wha’ you wan’. It’s de las’ supper.”
“The last supper before she goes,” protested Cecilia, “You make it sound like she’s gonna die.”
“Wait an’ see. She’s goin’ to ge’ so smart, she’s goin’ to forget her Mótina.”
“The wisdom of this world is foolishness with God,” I quoted.
“Tell me, Kate, honey, from de ten tousand dollars dey give you, you get sometin’?”
“No, Mom, I already told you, it shall cover all my expenses, but I don’t get any cash in the palm of my hand, no.”
“Yes, but say you don’ go?”
“I will go.”
“Yes, but jus’ say you don’, you get to keep de money?”
I saw what she was getting at and felt indignation stirring in me.
“The goal is an education, Mom, not monetary gain.”
Cecilia cut in, “I thought ‘the wisdom of this world was foolishness with God?’ ”
“Yes, but you don’ eat very much, do you get some o’ de scholarship back for dat, I hope?”
“The cost per meal is the same whether I eat big or small amounts.”
My scalp was sore and my eyes felt almond-shaped. At dawn every morning, I took three strands of my hair, one for the Father, one for the Son, and one for the Holy Ghost, and entwined them into oneness.
“Den you be smart an’ eat!”
“Yeah, eat! You!” Cecilia imitated our mother with her top-lip curled under so that one could see the gums; she poked my cheek harder than my mother had.
The waiter came back with three plates balancing on his arms.
“But wha’ are you suppose to become? I don’ understan’?”
“I have requirements to fulfil from the college of arts and letters, and from the college of math and sciences. By my junior year, I’ll have to confirm a major. I will at that time commit myself to theology.”
“Yes, bu’ wha’ job will it bring? You?”
“What do you want to be?” asked Cecilia.
“I don’t quite know,” I gave my braid a tug.
“Den why you waste you time in school instead of to take de ten tousand dollars! You people, you go to school, you so smart, I don’ understan’, you so stupid!”
“I have two years to decide.”
“Twenty tousand dollar, you know how much furn’ture you have for dat, you keep for de rest of you life?!”
“I’m not a pharaoh. I’m not going to bring furniture with me to the grave!”
“You won’t bring books either,” smiled Cecilia.
“I am absent in the flesh,” I hymned to myself.
“You don’ always need so much salt to eat! Cecilia, honey, say a blessin’, all o’ us we here toget’her …”
My mother interrupted Cecilia before she was done, “Don’ be a mule head, Kate. You sit in de library where de law students, dey go, an’ you marry me a rich man!”
“I don’t care for a man,” I politely stated, as though I were refusing a piece of lemon meringue pie.
“You’ll change, you’ll see. Whe’ de right one comes ‘long.”
“He’ll have to come along on water before she’s interested.”
“Dat’s wha’ we all think, den it’s love on firs’ sight.”
“You mean love on first bite,” giggled Cecilia.
“Please, don’t worry. I’m not afraid of such things. My studies are what are important to me, mostly I wish to live with God.”
“God, forget God! Where He lives, dere is no pain, no hunger, no mis’ry, but dere is also no boat, no swimmin’ pool, no colour TV!”
“Mótina!” I exclaimed, my hand to my heart.
“Too much God, an’ you’re not ready whe’ de wolf, he comes to eat de little lamb!” she pointed at me with the prongs of her fork, “an’ God, He don’ pay de electric bills, de tel’phone bills, de groc’ry bills!”
“Not unless you’re the Pope,” joked Cecilia.
“God, He make de grass grow, de trees grow, He make you hair grow, but He don’ pay for you to cut dem!”
“Oh, please …”
“You remember you mot’her, wha’ she says to you. You listen, too, Cecilia. Maybe one day I’m no’ here to give you, too, good free a’vice. So listen. Whe’ you meet de man, any man, if de milk is free, dere is no reason for him to buy de cow. Remember dese words! Dey are golden!”
“So what does he have to do, pay for the milk?” asked Cecilia.
“You milk him!” cried my mother, excited by now, “Either he’s goin’ to milk you or you’re goin’ to milk him. If you smart, you milk him!”
“If either of you don’t mind, the only thing I wish to drink is a cup of God’s holiness, and the only thing I wish to devour, are His Holy Scriptures.”
“You should have say so in de firs’ place, it would cost me less tonigh’!”
“There’s a draft in here with all the wings flapping around.”
“Shut you mouths both o’ you now! Eat.”