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

Miss Goering went up to Mrs. Copperfield just once, thinking that she might persuade her friend to return to the table. But Mrs. Copperfield showed a furious tear-stained face to Miss Goering and flung her arm out sideways, striking Miss Goering in the nose with her forearm. Miss Goering returned to her seat and sat nursing her nose.

To her great surprise, about twenty minutes later Pacifica arrived, accompanied by her young man. She introduced him to Miss Goering and then hurried over to the bar. The young man stood with his hands in his pockets and looked around him rather awkwardly.

“Sit down,” said Miss Goering. “I thought that Pacifica was not coming.”

“She was not coming,” he answered very slowly, “but then she decided that she would come because she was worried that her friend would be upset.”

“Mrs. Copperfield is a highly strung woman, I am afraid,” said Miss Goering.

“I don’t know her very well,” he answered discreetly.

Pacifica returned from the bar with Mrs. Copperfield, who was now terribly gay and wanted to order drinks for everyone. But neither the boy nor Pacifica would accept her offer. The boy looked very sad and soon excused himself, saying that he had only intended to see Pacifica to the restaurant and then return to his home. Mrs. Copperfield decided to accompany him to the door, patting his hand all the way and stumbling so badly that he was obliged to slip his arm around her waist to keep her from falling. Pacifica, meanwhile, leaned over to Miss Goering.

“It is terrible,” she said. “What a baby your friend is! I can’t leave her for ten minutes because it almost breaks her heart, and she is such a kind and generous woman, with such a beautiful apartment and such beautiful clothes. What can I do with her? She is like a little baby. I tried to explain it to my young man, but I can’t explain it really to anyone.”

Mrs. Copperfield returned and suggested that they all go elsewhere to get some food.

“I can’t,” said Miss Goering, lowering her eyes. “I have an appointment with a gentleman.” She would have liked to talk to Pacifica a little longer. In some ways Pacifica reminded her of Miss Gamelon although certainly Pacifica was a much nicer person and more attractive physically. At this moment she noticed that Ben and his friends were putting on their coats and getting ready to leave. She hesitated only a second and then hurriedly said good-by to Pacifica and Mrs. Copperfield. She was just drawing her wrap over her shoulders when, to her surprise, she saw the four men walk very rapidly towards the door, right past her table. Ben made no sign to her.

“He must be coming back,” she thought, but she decided to go into the hall. They were not in the hall, so she opened the door and stood on the stoop. From there she saw them all get into Ben’s black car. Ben was the last one to get in, and just as he stepped on the running board, he turned his head around and saw Miss Goering.

“Hey,” he said, “I forgot about you. I’ve got to go big distances on some important business. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Good-by.”

He slammed the door behind him and they drove off. Miss Goering began to descend the stone steps. The long staircase seemed short to her, like a dream that is remembered long after it has been dreamed.

She stood on the street and waited to be overcome with joy and relief. But soon she was aware of a new sadness within herself. Hope, she felt, had discarded a childish form forever.

“Certainly I am nearer to becoming a saint,” reflected Miss Goering, “but is it possible that a part of me hidden from my sight is piling sin upon sin as fast as Mrs. Copperfield?” This latter possibility Miss Goering thought to be of considerable interest but of no great importance.

In the Summer House was presented at the Playhouse Theatre in New York on December 29, 1953, by Oliver Smith and the Playwrights’ Company. It was directed by José Quintero with the following cast:

GERTRUDE EASTMAN CUEVAS Judith Anderson

MOLLY, her daughter Elizabeth Ross

MR. SOLARES Don Mayo

MRS. LOPEZ Marita Reid

FREDERICA Miriam Colon

ESPERANZA Isabel Morel

ALTA GRACIA Marjorie Eaton

QUINTINA Phoebe Mackay

LIONEL Logan Ramsey

A FIGURE BEARER Paul Bertelsen

ANOTHER FIGURE BEARER George Spelvin

VIVIAN CONSTABLE Muriel Berkson

CHAUFFEUR Daniel Morales

MRS. CONSTABLE Mildred Dunnock

INEZ Jean Stapleton

Scenery Oliver Smith

Costumes Noel Taylor

Music Paul Bowles

Lighting Peggy Clark

Associate Producer Lyn Austin

ACT I

Scene i Gertrude Eastman Cuevas’ garden on the coast, Southern California

Scene ii The beach. One month later

Scene iii The garden. One month later

ACT II

Scene i The Lobster Bowl. Ten months later, before dawn

Scene ii The same. Two months later, late afternoon

Time: the present

Scene i

GERTRUDE EASTMAN CUEVAS’ garden somewhere on the coast of Southern California. The garden is a mess, with ragged cactus plants and broken ornaments scattered about. A low hedge at the back of the set separates the garden from a dirt lane which supposedly leads to the main road. Beyond the lane is the beach and the sea. The side of the house and the front door are visible. A low balcony hangs over the garden. In the garden itself there is a round summer house covered with vines.

GERTRUDE ( A beautiful middle-aged woman with sharply defined features, a good carriage and bright red hair. She is dressed in a tacky provincial fashion. Her voice is tense but resonant. She is seated on the balcony ) Are you in the summer house?

(MOLLY, a girl of eighteen with straight black hair cut in bangs and a somnolent impassive face, does not hear GERTRUDE ’s question but remains in the summer house. GERTRUDE, repeating, goes to railing )

Are you in the summer house?

MOLLY Yes, I am.

GERTRUDE If I believed in acts of violence, I would burn the summer house down. You love to get in there and loll about hour after hour. You can’t even see out because those vines hide the view. Why don’t you find a good flat rock overlooking the ocean and sit on it? (MOLLY fingers the vine ) As long as you’re so indifferent to the beauties of nature, I should think you would interest yourself in political affairs, or in music or painting or at least in the future. But I’ve said this to you at least a thousand times before. You admit you relax too much?

MOLLY I guess I do.

GERTRUDE We already have to take in occasional boarders to help make ends meet. As the years go by the boarders will increase, and I can barely put up with the few that come here now; I’m not temperamentally suited to boarders. Nor am I interested in whether this should be considered a character defect or not. I simply hate gossiping with strangers and I don’t want to listen to their business. I never have and I never will. It disgusts me. Even my own flesh and blood saps my vitality — particularly you. You seem to have developed such a slow and gloomy way of walking lately … not at all becoming to a girl. Don’t you think you could correct your walk?

MOLLY I’m trying. I’m trying to correct it.

GERTRUDE I’m thinking seriously of marrying Mr. Solares, after all. I would at least have a life free of financial worry if I did, and I’m sure I could gradually ease his sister, Mrs. Lopez, out of the house because she certainly gets on my nerves. He’s a manageable man and Spanish men aren’t around the house much, which is a blessing. They’re always out … not getting intoxicated or having a wild time … just out … sitting around with bunches of other men … Spanish men … Cubans, Mexicans … I don’t know … They’re all alike, drinking little cups of coffee and jabbering away to each other for hours on end. That was your father’s life anyway. I minded then. I minded terribly, not so much because he left me alone, but he wasn’t in his office for more than a few hours a day … and he wasn’t rich enough, not like Mr. Solares. I lectured him in the beginning. I lectured him on ambition, on making contacts, on developing his personality. Often at night I was quite hoarse. I worked on him steadily, trying to make him worry about sugar. I warned him he was letting his father’s interests go to pot. Nothing helped. He refused to worry about sugar; he refused to worry about anything. ( She knits a moment in silence ) I lost interest finally. I lost interest in sugar … in him. I lost interest in our life together. I wanted to give it all up … start out fresh, but I couldn’t. I was carrying you. I had no choice. All my hopes were wrapped up in you then, all of them. You were my reason for going on, my one and only hope … my love. ( She knits furiously. Then, craning her neck to look in the summer house, she gets up and goes to the rail ) Are you asleep in there, or are you reading comic strips?