Jane Bowles - My Sister's Hand in Mine - The Collected Works of Jane Bowles

At the same time Miss Gamelon was really worried — although she scarcely admitted this to herself — that Miss Goering was losing her mind. Miss Goering seemed thinner and more nervous and she insisted on doing most of the housework all by herself. She was constantly cleaning the house and polishing the doorknobs and the silver; she tried in many small ways to make the house livable without buying any of the things which were needed to make it so; she had in these last few weeks suddenly developed an extreme avarice and drew only enough money from the bank to enable them to live in the simplest manner possible. At the same time she seemed to think nothing of paying for Arnold’s food, as he scarcely ever offered to contribute anything to the upkeep of the house. It was true that he went on paying his own share in his family’s apartment, which perhaps left him very little to pay for anything else. This made Miss Gamelon furious, because although she did not understand why it was necessary for Miss Goering to live on less than one tenth of her income, she had nevertheless adjusted herself to this tiny scale of living and was trying desperately to make the money stretch as far as possible.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Miss Gamelon was thinking seriously about all these things when suddenly a bottle broke against her head, inundating her with perfume and making quite a deep cut just above her forehead. She started to bleed profusely and sat for a moment with her hands over her eyes.

“I didn’t actually mean to draw blood,” said Arnold leaning out of the window. “I just meant to give her a start.”

Miss Goering, although she was beginning to regard Miss Gamelon more and more as the embodiment of evil, made a swift and compassionate gesture towards her friend.

“Oh, my dear, let me get you something to disinfect the cut with.” She went into the house and passed Arnold in the hall. He was standing with his hand on the front door, unable to decide whether to stay in or go out. When Miss Goering came down again with the medicine, Arnold had disappeared.

* * *

It was near evening, and Miss Gamelon, with a bandaged head, was standing in front of the house. She could see the road between the trees, from where she was standing. Her face was very white and her eyes were swollen because she had been weeping bitterly. She was weeping because it was the first time in her life that anyone had ever struck her physically. The more she thought about it, the more serious it became in her mind, and while she stood in front of the house she was suddenly frightened for the first time in her life. How far she had traveled from her home! Twice she had begun to pack her bags and twice she had decided not to do so, only because she could not bring herself to leave Miss Goering, since in her own way, though she scarcely knew it herself, she was deeply attached to her. It was dark before Miss Gamelon went into the house.

Miss Goering was terribly upset because Arnold had not yet returned, although she did not care for him very much more than she had in the beginning. She, too, stood outside in the dark for nearly an hour because her anxiety was so great that she was unable to remain in the house.

While she was still outside, Miss Gamelon, seated in the parlor before an empty fireplace, felt that all of God’s wrath had descended upon her own head. The world and the people in it had suddenly slipped beyond her comprehension and she felt in great danger of losing the whole world once and for all — a feeling that is difficult to explain.

Each time that she looked over her shoulder into the kitchen and saw Miss Goering’s dark shape still standing in front of the door, her heart failed her a little more. Finally Miss Goering came in.

“Lucy!” she called. Her voice was very clear and a little higher than usual. “Lucy, let’s go and find Arnold.” She sat opposite Miss Gamelon, and her face looked extraordinarily bright.

Miss Gamelon said: “Certainly not.”

“Well, after all,” said Miss Goering, “he lives in my house.”

“Yes, that he does,” said Miss Gamelon.

“And it is only right,” said Miss Goering, “that people in the same house should look after each other. They always do, I think, don’t they?”

“They’re more careful about who gets under the same roof with them,” said Miss Gamelon, coming to life again.

“I don’t think so, really,” said Miss Goering. Miss Gamelon breathed a deep sigh and got up. “Never mind,” she said, “soon I’ll be in the midst of real human beings again.”

They started through the woods along a path which was a short cut to the nearest town, about twenty minutes from their house on foot. Miss Goering screeched at every strange noise and clutched at Miss Gamelon’s sweater all the way. Miss Gamelon was sullen and suggested that they take the long way around on their way back.

At last they came out of the woods and walked a short stretch along the highway. On either side of the road were restaurants which catered mainly to automobilists. In one of these Miss Goering saw Arnold seated at a table near the window, eating a sandwich.

“There’s Arnold,” said Miss Goering. “Come along!” She took hold of Miss Gamelon’s hand and almost skipped in the direction of the restaurant.

“It is really almost too good to be true,” said Miss Gamelon; “he is eating again.”

It was terribly hot inside. They removed their sweaters and went to sit with Arnold at his table.

“Good evening,” said Arnold. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” This he said to Miss Goering. He avoided looking in the direction of Miss Gamelon.

“Well,” said Miss Gamelon, “are you going to explain yourself?”

Arnold had just taken quite a large bite of his sandwich so that he was unable to answer her. But he did roll his eyes in her direction. It was impossible to tell with his cheeks so full whether or not he looked angry. Miss Gamelon was terribly annoyed at this, but Miss Goering sat smiling at them because she was glad to have them both with her again.

Finally Arnold swallowed his food.

“I don’t have to explain myself,” he said to Miss Gamelon, looking very grouchy indeed now that he had swallowed his food. “You owe a profound apology to me for hating me and telling Miss Goering about it.”

“I have a perfect right to hate whom I please,” said Miss Gamelon, “and also, since we live in a free country, I can talk about it on the street corner if I want to.”

“You don’t know me well enough to hate me. You’ve misjudged me anyway, which is enough to make any man furious, and I am furious.”

“Well then, get out of the house. Nobody wants you there anyway.”

“That’s incorrect; Miss Goering, I am sure, wants me there, don’t you?”

“Yes, Arnold, of course,” said Miss Goering.

“There is no justice,” said Miss Gamelon; “you are both outrageous.” She sat up very straight, and both Arnold and Miss Goering stared at her bandage.

“Well,” said Arnold, wiping his mouth and pushing his plate away, “I am sure there is some way whereby we can arrange it so we can both live in the house together.”

“Why are you so attached to the house?” screamed Miss Gamelon. “All you ever do when you’re in it is to stretch out in the parlor and go to sleep.”

“The house gives me a certain feeling of freedom.”

Miss Gamelon looked at him.

“You mean an opportunity to indulge your laziness.”

“Now look,” said Arnold, “suppose that I am allowed to use the parlor after dinner and in the morning. Then you can use it the rest of the time.”

“All right,” said Miss Gamelon, “I agree, but see that you don’t set your foot in it during the entire afternoon.”