Page 109 - The Geography of Women

The Geography of Women 95

Harry Carey announcin.
Someone started bangin on the pantry door want in
sugar to whip into the cream for the strawberry short cake.
Eustacia finally stopped cryin, provin there is a intermis-
sion, if not a bottom, to every show a sadness. I took her
by the arm back into the kitchen to keep her busy shakin
out Jello molds an bravely scoopin potato salad.
“Whatchu two been doin?” Mizz Lulabelle asked,
breakin free a her circle a admirers.
“None a your beeswax,” I said.
“I bet you been playin,” she whispered in her ol sexy
voice, “‘Someone’s in the Kitchen with Dinah.’”
“You want,” I said, “a fat lip, a knuckle sandwich, or a
mouthful a bloody Chicklets?”
“Isn’t Eustacia a little old for you?” she asked.
“What’s gettin old,” I said, “is your act.”
“Act?” She touched her bleachblond beehive hairdo,
runnin her fingers down her French seam. “Act? Act?” Her
hands started their famous flutter aroun her breasts where
finally they landed. “Act? What act?”
“Whyn’t you, Mizz Chastaine, go see about Mister
Henry,” I said.
“Mister Henry,” she said, “is havin hisself a fine time
with Rosie Donovan.”
“Why, since Wilmer started it, is everybody all a sud-
den started callin that Rosemary child, Rosie?”
“Why’s everybody call you Sport?” Mizz Lulabelle
grinned.
“Cuz I told em to,” I said.
“Bingo!” Mizz Lulabelle said. “Have you asked Rose-
mary lately what she wants to be called?”
“I have not,” I said.
“You think you’re so free, white, an twenty-one,” Mizz

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