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

“Oh! Christina Goering,” cried Mrs. Copperfield, startled to see her friend suddenly seated beside her, “I’m going away!”

“Do you mean,” said Miss Goering, “that you are leaving this party?”

“No, I am going on a trip. Wait until I tell you about it. It’s terrible.”

Miss Goering noticed that Mrs. Copperfield’s eyes were brighter than usual. “What is wrong, little Mrs. Copperfield?” she asked, rising from her seat and looking around the room with a bright smile on her face.

“Oh, I’m sure,” said Mrs. Copperfield, “that you wouldn’t want to hear about it. You can’t possibly have any respect for me, but that doesn’t make any difference because I have the utmost respect for you. I heard my husband say that you had a religious nature one day, and we almost had a very bad fight. Of course he is crazy to say that. You are gloriously unpredictable and you are afraid of no one but yourself. I hate religion in other people.”

Miss Goering neglected to answer Mrs. Copperfield because for the last second or two she had been staring at a stout dark-haired man who was walking heavily across the room in their direction. As he came nearer, she saw that he had a pleasant face with wide jowls that protruded on either side but did not hang down as they do on most obese persons. He was dressed in a blue business suit.

“May I sit beside you?” he asked them. “I have met this young lady before,” he said, shaking hands with Mrs. Copperfield, “but I am afraid that I have not yet met her friend.” He turned and nodded to Miss Goering.

Mrs. Copperfield was so annoyed at the interruption that she neglected to introduce Miss Goering to the gentleman. He drew up a chair next to Miss Goering’s and looked at her.

“I have just come from a most wonderful dinner,” he said to her, “moderate in price, but served with care and excellently prepared. If it would interest you I can write down the name of the little restaurant for you.”

He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a leather billfold. He found only one slip of paper which was not already covered with addresses.

“I will write this down for you,” he said to Miss Goering. “Undoubtedly you will be seeing Mrs. Copperfield and then you can pass the information on to her, or perhaps she can telephone to you.”

Miss Goering took the slip of paper in her hand and looked carefully at the writing.

He had not written down the name of a restaurant at all; instead he had asked Miss Goering to consent to go home with him later to his apartment. This pleased her greatly as she was usually delighted to stay out as late as possible once she had left her home.

She looked up at the man, whose face was now inscrutable. He sipped his drink with calm, and looked around the room like someone who has finally brought a business conversation to a close. However, there were some sweat beads on his forehead.

Mrs. Copperfield stared at him with distaste, but Miss Goering’s face suddenly brightened. “Let me tell you,” she said to them, “about a strange experience I had this morning. Sit still, little Mrs. Copperfield, and listen to me.” Mrs. Copperfield looked up at Miss Goering and took her friend’s hand in her own.

“I stayed in town with my sister Sophie last night,” said Miss Goering, “and this morning I was standing in front of the window drinking a cup of coffee. The building next to Sophie’s house is being torn down. I believe that they are intending to put an apartment house in its place. It was not only extremely windy this morning, but it was raining intermittently. From my window I could see into the rooms of this building, as the wall opposite me had already been torn down. The rooms were still partially furnished, and I stood looking at them, watching the rain spatter the wallpaper. The wallpaper was flowered and already covered with dark spots, which were growing larger.”

“How amusing,” said Mrs. Copperfield, “or perhaps it was depressing.”

“I finally felt rather sad watching this and I was about to go away when a man came into one of these rooms and, walking deliberately over to the bed, took up a coverlet which he folded under his arm. It was undoubtedly a personal possession which he had neglected to pack and had just now returned to fetch. Then he walked around the room aimlessly for a bit and finally he stood at the very edge of his room looking down into the yard with his arms akimbo. I could see him more clearly now, and I could easily tell that he was an artist. As he stood there, I was increasingly filled with horror, very much as though I were watching a scene in a nightmare.”

At this point Miss Goering suddenly stood up.

“Did he jump, Miss Goering?” Mrs. Copperfield asked with feeling.

“No, he remained there for quite a while looking down into the courtyard with an expression of pleasant curiosity on his face.”

“Amazing, Miss Goering,” said Mrs. Copperfield. “I do think it’s such an interesting story, really, but it has quite scared me out of my wits and I shouldn’t enjoy hearing another one like it.” She had scarcely finished her sentence when she heard her husband say:

“We will go to Panama and linger there awhile before we penetrate into the interior.” Mrs. Copperfield pressed Miss Goering’s hand.

“I don’t think I can bear it,” she said. “Really, Miss Goering, it frightens me so much to go.”

“I would go anyway,” said Miss Goering.

Mrs. Copperfield jumped off the arm of the chair and ran into the library. She locked the door behind her carefully and then she fell in a little heap on the sofa and sobbed bitterly. When she had stopped crying she powdered her nose, seated herself on the window-sill, and looked down into the dark garden below.

An hour or two later Arnold, the stout man in the blue suit, was still talking to Miss Goering. He suggested to her that they leave the party and go to his own house. “I think that we will have a much nicer time there,” he said to her. “There will be less noise and we will be able to talk more freely.”

As yet Miss Goering had no desire at all to leave, she enjoyed so much being in a room full of people, but she did not quite know how to get out of accepting his invitation.

“Certainly,” she said, “let’s be on our way.” They rose and left the room together in silence.

“Don’t say anything to Anna about our leaving,” Arnold told Miss Goering. “It will only cause a commotion. I promise you I’ll send some sweets to her tomorrow, or some flowers.” He pressed Miss Goering’s hand and smiled at her. She was not sure that she did not find him a bit too familiar.

* * *

After leaving Anna’s party, Arnold walked awhile with Miss Goering and then hailed a cab. The road to his home led through many dark and deserted streets. Miss Goering was so nervous and hysterical about this that Arnold was alarmed.

“I always think,” said Miss Goering, “that the driver is only waiting for the passengers to become absorbed in conversation in order to shoot down some street, to an inaccessible and lonely place where he will either torture or murder them. I am certain that most people feel the same way about it that I do, but they have the good taste not to mention it.”

“Since you live so far out of town,” said Arnold, “why don’t you spend the night at my house? We have an extra bedroom.”

“I probably shall,” said Miss Goering, “although it is against my entire code, but then, I have never even begun to use my code, although I judge everything by it.” Miss Goering looked a little morose after having said this and they drove on in silence until they reached their destination.

Arnold’s flat was on the second floor. He opened the door and they walked into a room lined to the ceiling with bookshelves. The couch had been made up and Arnold’s slippers were lying on the rug beside it. The furniture was heavy and some small Oriental rugs were scattered here and there.