HOW LIKE A GOD
77
"What do you think?"
"That's it. I don't know. You can see, I've been improving. I
know most of the answers now, don't I? I mean I'll do better than
them niggers anyway. But do you thi.nk I'll pass?"
"Is it so important to you?"
"Yeah, it really is."
"Why?"
"It just is."
"It really shouldn't be, you know. After all, you're a career
man, with almost twenty years. You'll probably stick it out for
thirty. And then ... well, you'll almost surely make Master by then,
and with retirement pay of seventy-five per cent you won't have
much to worry about. I don't think you ought to be so worried
about this."
"Look, don't fuck around with me.
Am
I going to make it or
not?"
"I don't think so."
"Why not?"
I looked up at the television set. A relief pitcher was walking
in
from the bull-pen in left field. I lit a cigarette and took another
swallow of beer. I began to feel ashamed of being honest with him,
and embarrassed enough to fear that I was going to be hurt by the
truth more than he.
"In the first place," I began, "you shouldn't expect so much
in such a short time. You've only been studying for six weeks and
it's obvious that you don't have enough time off to prepare the les–
sons decently. Besides, this is something you're not accustomed to.
It's the first time in your life that you ever tried to do something
like this.
If
you could put it off for a while and study on your
own until you had mastered the book, then I think you'd have a
much better chance."
"Look, you know that none of us studies on our own.
If
I don't
pass
that test now I can't go on by myself. That's why I want to pass
it, ya see?"
I didn't see, nor did he. He had turned
his
back to the bar and
was leaning against it looking at the near wall. He lifted his glass
of beer, and I noticed a speckle of blue in the joint of his elbow. I
looked more closely as he unbent his arm. It was writing, but it was
upside down, and I couldn't read it.
