“Well, I hope you didn’t nibble too much. I’m going to put supper on the table in a couple of minutes.” I was so happy Joyce stood up because my lap had become numb. Betty Jean had also sat in my lap, but compared to Joyce, she was as light as a chicken feather. “You sit here and I’m going to go get some salve to put on the spots where you got stung. You can’t go to work tomorrow with your neck and jaw looking like a beaver’s been gnawing on you.”
While I waited for Joyce to come back, I stretched out on the couch and thought about what had happened between me and Betty Jean. I could still smell her sweet scent. And her firm young body had felt so damn good! I didn’t know what to think about her being so eager to make love with me a few hours after we’d met. I didn’t give that detail too much thought, because Joyce had done the same thing.
As much as I had enjoyed Betty Jean, she was just another piece of tail to me. But she had a different opinion about me. She hadn’t asked if I’d ever visit her again, she’d told me, “I’ll make you feel even better the next time you come over.” I hadn’t said I would visit her again, and I hadn’t said I wouldn’t. All I had done was blink and then I’d stumbled out the door and trotted all the way back to my car with my pants still unzipped.
The only thing I was concerned about was me and Betty Jean accidentally crossing paths again. I wasn’t going to worry about that because it was not liable to happen. She had no reason to come to Branson, and I had no reason to go back over to Hartville.
But the following Sunday, I did. And I ended up in her bed again. The same thing happened the Sunday after that. By the time I realized what I was doing, it was too late. Betty Jean Bonner had become part of my regular routine and I couldn’t stay away from her.
Chapter 21
Joyce
THE MORE TIME I SPENT WITH THE CHILDREN AT WORK, THE MORE anxious I was to give birth. To me, nothing was more important and precious than motherhood. I couldn’t understand why every woman didn’t feel the same way. Some of the mothers of the children in my school couldn’t have cared less if their kids got an education or not. A lot of the kids felt the same way. I realized that certain people grew up to be fools because that was all they ever wanted to be in the first place. But I couldn’t put too much blame on them. Our school system didn’t encourage colored kids to do much to prepare themselves for the future. It made me angry and more determined than ever to make a difference. I complained about it to Daddy and Mama. They supported me, but they didn’t see things the way I did.
The subject had been on my mind a lot lately. I brought it up again yesterday when Daddy came by the house to drop off the laundry Mama had done for me earlier in the day. “Joyce, you can’t save the world. My mama and daddy was slaves, so they never got no education, period. Just be glad that some of the colored kids do want to go to school.”
“I’m just tired of our people settling for just enough to get by on. I might even start tutoring a few of the slower kids in the evenings and on weekends,” I said.
“Don’t be no fool.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? I thought you cared about helping folks.”
“I do. But I always took care of me and mine first. You want to tutor somebody, tutor yourself.”
“Daddy, what in the world are you getting at?”
“Stay on top of your marriage, that’s what. Keep your mind on Odell and what he needs. You need to be more concerned about him than improving the lives of other folks’ kids. And another thing; I don’t care what he do to you, you better stay with him.”
Odell laughed when I told him what Daddy had said. “Honey, I don’t need for you to babysit me. I’m glad you want to do so much for other people, especially the children. You spend as much time as you want working overtime, tutoring after hours and anything else. I’m proud of you and I’m sure the folks you work with is too.”
Knowing I had Odell’s support made me enjoy my job even more. I loved going to work almost as much as I loved being at home with Odell.
Branson had four public elementary schools, one private school, and two high schools for the white kids. The colored kids had two elementary schools and one high school, period. Each one was so crowded the students didn’t get half of the individual attention they needed, which was the reason some of them attended summer school every year. Our elementary schools went from the first grade up to the eighth. Most of the students that made it that far didn’t even bother to go on to high school because they had to go to work. With a lot of the girls, they couldn’t continue their education because they usually got married and started having babies. Mama had only completed elementary school and Daddy had dropped out halfway into the fifth grade. But they could read and write well enough to get by.
Even though I’d never really liked school, I’d promised myself and my parents that I would finish high school. I studied just enough to get by, so I’d graduated by the skin of my teeth. I could read and write as well as some of the people I knew who had attended college. My grammar was not perfect, and
