she carries on over that child, just as loving, like as if she was his own mother. An’ now that she’s here an’ workin’ an’ that nigger’s well again, what does he do but go out an’ get drunk worse than he uster with his wife. Would you believe it? Stays away three and four nights a week, while she hustles out of here an’ makes time every morning. . . .”
On hearing this for about the twentieth time, Emma Lou determined to herself that she was not going to hear it again. (She had also planned to ask for a transfer to a new school, one on the east side in the Italian section where she would not have to associate with so many other colored teachers.) Alva hadn’t been home for four nights. She picked Alva Junior from out his crib and pulled off his nightgown, letting him lie naked in her lap. She loved to fondle his warm, mellow-colored body, loved to caress his little crooked limbs after the braces had been removed. She wondered what would become of him. Obviously she couldn’t remain living with Alva, and she certainly couldn’t keep Alva Junior forever. Suppose those evil school teachers should find out how she was living and report it to the school authorities? Was she morally fit to be teaching youth? She remembered her last conversation with Gwendolyn.
For the first time now she also saw how Alva had used her during both periods of their relationship.
