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

She followed him into the bedroom. He had turned the bed down rather badly and the slips of the two pillows were gray and wrinkled. On his dresser were pictures of several girls, all of them terribly unattractive and plain. They looked more to Miss Goering like the church-going type of young woman than like the mistresses of a bachelor.

“They’re nice-looking girls, aren’t they?” said Andy to Miss Goering.

“Lovely-looking,” she said, “lovely.”

“None of these girls live in this town,” he said. “They live in different towns in the vicinity. The girls here are guarded and they don’t like bachelors my age. I don’t blame them. I go take one of these girls in the pictures out now and then when I feel like it. I even sit in their living-rooms of an evening with them, with their parents right in the house. But they don’t see much of me, I can tell you that.”

Miss Goering was growing more and more puzzled, but she didn’t ask him any more questions because she was suddenly feeling weary.

“I think I’ll be on my way now,” she said, swaying a little on her feet. She realized immediately how rude and unkind she was being and she saw Andy tightening up. He put his fists into his pockets.

“Well, you can’t go now,” he said to her. “Stay a little longer and I’ll make you some coffee.”

“No, no, I don’t want any coffee. Anyway, they’ll be worrying about me at home.”

“Who’s they?” Andy asked her.

“Arnold and Arnold’s father and Miss Gamelon.”

“It sounds like a terrible mob to me,” he said. “I couldn’t stand living with a crowd like that.”

“I love it,” said Miss Goering.

He put his arms around her and tried to kiss her, but she pulled away, “No, honestly, I’m much too tired.”

“All right,” he said, “all right!” His brow was deeply furrowed and he looked completely miserable. He took his bathrobe off and got into his bed. He lay there with the sheet up to his neck, threshing his feet about and looking up at the ceiling like someone with a fever. There was a small light burning on the table beside the bed which shone directly into his face, so that Miss Goering was able to distinguish many lines which she had not noticed before. She went over to his bed and leaned over him.

“What is the matter?” she asked him. “Now it’s been a very pleasant evening and we all need some sleep.”

He laughed in her face. “You’re some lunatic,” he said to her, “and you sure don’t know anything about people. I’m all right here, though.” He pulled the sheet up farther and lay there breathing heavily. “There’s a five o’clock ferry that leaves in about a half hour. Will you come back tomorrow evening? I’ll be where I was tonight at that bar.”

She promised him that she would return on the following evening, and after he had explained to her how to get to the dock, she opened his window for him and left.

Stupidly enough, Miss Goering had forgotten to take her key with her and she was obliged to knock on the door in order to get into her house. She pounded twice, and almost immediately she heard someone running down the steps. She could tell that it was Arnold even before he had opened the door. He was wearing a rose-colored pajama jacket and a pair of trousers. His suspenders were hanging down over his hips. His beard had grown quite a bit for such a short time and he looked sloppier than ever.

“What’s the matter with you, Arnold?” said Miss Goering. “You look dreadful.”

“Well, I’ve had a bad night, Christina. I just put Bubbles to sleep a little while ago; she’s terribly worried about you. As a matter of fact, I don’t think you’ve shown us much consideration.”

“Who is Bubbles?” Miss Goering asked him.

“Bubbles,” he said, “is the name I have for Miss Gamelon.”

“Well,” said Miss Goering, going into the house and seating herself in front of the fireplace, “I took the ferry back across to the mainland and I became very much involved. I might return tomorrow night,” she added, “although I don’t really want to very much.”

“I don’t know why you find it so interesting and intellectual to seek out a new city,” said Arnold, cupping his chin in his hand and looking at her fixedly.

“Because I believe the hardest thing for me to do is really move from one thing to another, partly,” said Miss Goering.

“Spiritually,” said Arnold, trying to speak in a more sociable tone, “spiritually I’m constantly making little journeys and changing my entire nature every six months.”

“I don’t believe it for a minute,” said Miss Goering.

“No, no, it is true. Also I can tell you that I think it is absolute nonsense to move physically from one place to another. All places are more or less alike.”

Miss Goering did not answer this. She pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders and of a sudden looked quite old and very sad indeed.

Arnold began to doubt the validity of what he had just said, and immediately resolved to make exactly the same excursion from which Miss Goering had just returned, on the following night. He squared his jaw and pulled out a notebook from his pocket.

“Now, will you give me the particulars on how to reach the mainland?” said Arnold. “The hours when the train leaves, and so forth.”

“Why do you ask?” said Miss Goering.

“Because I’m going to go there myself tomorrow night. I should have thought you would have guessed that by this time.”

“No, judging by what you just finished saying to me, I would not have guessed it.”

“Well, I talk one way,” said Arnold, “but I’m really, underneath, the same kind of maniac that you are.”

“I would like to see your father,” Miss Goering said to him.

“I think he’s asleep. I hope he will come to his senses and go home,” said Arnold.

“Well, I am hoping the contrary,” said Miss Goering. “I’m terribly attached to him. Let’s go upstairs and just look into his room.”

They went up the stairs together and Miss Gamelon came out to meet them on the landing. Her eyes were all swollen and she was wrapped in a heavy wool bathrobe.

She began speaking to Miss Goering in a voice that was thick with sleep. “Once more, and it will be the last you will see of Lucy Gamelon.”

“Now, Bubbles,” said Arnold, “remember this is not an ordinary household and you must expect certain eccentricities on the part of the inmates. You see, I have dubbed us all inmates.”

“Arnold,” said Miss Gamelon, “now don’t you begin. You know what I told you this afternoon about talking drivel.”

“Please, Lucy,” said Arnold.

“Come, come, let’s all go and take a peek at Arnold’s father,” suggested Miss Goering.

Miss Gamelon followed them only in order to continue admonishing Arnold, which she did in a low voice. Miss Goering pulled the door open. The room was very cold and she realized for the first time that it was already bright outdoors. It had all happened very quickly while she was talking to Arnold in the parlor, but there it was nearly always dark because of the thick bushes outside.

Arnold’s father was sleeping on his back. His face was still and he breathed regularly without snoring. Miss Goering shook him a few times by the shoulder.

“The procedures in this house,” said Miss Gamelon, “are what amount to criminal. Now you’re waking up an old man who needs his sleep, at the crack of dawn. It makes me shudder to stand here and see what you’ve become, Christina.”

At last Arnold’s father awakened. It took him a little while to realize what had happened, but when he had, he leaned on his elbows and said in a very chipper manner to Miss Goering: