“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.