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Show Woodworth/ll they didn't teach you in college. You. You only read about it in books. How would you know at all what life is like?" : arty watches, but Ruth keeps her back to her daughter as she pours the drink. Marty smells alcohol, something stronger than wine. "You wait until you have babies who keep you up all night, crying. And then they grow, and they are sick all the time, and you don't have time for anything at all, except doctors who don't ever return your calls, and thermometers that you have to stick in rear-ends, and pretend that it doesn't bother you, and those damn little glass things that blow steam all over the place and warp the wallpaper right off the walls. And they get older, and take drugs all the time, and hate you. Do nothing but sit around in your house all day, taking advantage of you,and hating you because of the things you gave them. Think your college will do anything for you then? Think those precious books will do anything for you then? Well, they won't. You won't even be able to read, except about childhood diseases and baby formulas. You wait until.you get married and then you'll find out what really goes on." Her mother takes a step towards h'er, drink raised like a weapon. "And I don't mean just in the bedroom, either. I bet you learned all about that in college, didn't you, Marty? I bet you had a pretty high time of it, living in the same dorm with a bunch of men. :^aybe you did learn something in college, after all. Did you, Marty? Did you learn how to please a man? What about that guy, Tom Hiller? He sure was a sexy buck. Did you do it with him, Marty? Did you do it here, in my home?" Ruth has lurched half way across the living room. Feet planted, drink held at chest level, she looks like a Trojan warrior in a Dior blouse, a pale African savage in sensible heels. varty |