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

“I sleep in here,” said Arnold, “and my mother and father occupy the bedroom. We have a small kitchen, but generally we prefer to eat out. There is another tiny bedroom, originally intended for a maid’s room, but I would rather sleep in here and let my eye wander from book to book; books are a great solace to me.” He sighed heavily and laid both his hands on Miss Goering’s shoulders. “You see, my dear lady,” he said, “I’m not exactly doing the kind of thing that I would like to do.… I’m in the real-estate business.”

“What is it that you would like to do?” asked Miss Goering, looking weary and indifferent.

“Something, naturally,” said Arnold, “in the book line, or in the painting line.”

“And you can’t?”

“No,” said Arnold, “my family doesn’t believe that such an occupation is serious, and since I must earn my living and pay for my share of this flat, I have been obliged to accept a post in my uncle’s office, where I must say I very quickly have become his prize salesman. In the evenings, however, I have plenty of time to move among people who have nothing to do with real estate. As a matter of fact, they think very little about earning money at all. Naturally, these people are interested in having enough to eat. Even though I am thirty-nine years old I still am hoping very seriously that I will be able to make a definite break with my family. I do not see life through the same pair of eyes that they do. And I feel more and more that my life here with them is becoming insupportable in spite of the fact that I am free to entertain whom I please since I pay for part of the upkeep of the flat.”

He sat down on the couch and rubbed his eyes with his hands.

“You’ll forgive me, Miss Goering, but I’m feeling very sleepy suddenly. I’m sure the feeling will go away.”

Miss Goering’s drinks were wearing off and she thought it high time that she got back to Miss Gamelon, but she had not the courage to ride all the way out to her home by herself.

“Well, I suppose this is a great disappointment to you,” said Arnold, “but you see I have fallen in love with you. I wanted to bring you here and tell you about my whole life, but now I don’t feel like talking about anything.”

“Perhaps some other time you’ll tell me about your life,” said Miss Goering, beginning to walk up and down very quickly. She stopped and turned towards him. “What do you advise me to do?” she asked him. “Do you advise me to go home or stay here?”

Arnold studied his watch. “Stay here by all means,” he said.

Just then Arnold’s father came in, wearing a lounging-robe and carrying a cup of coffee in his hand. He was very slender and he wore a small pointed beard. He was a more distinguished figure than Arnold.

“Good evening, Arnold,” said his father. “Will you introduce me, please, to this young lady?”

Arnold introduced them and then his father asked Miss Goering why she did not take off her cloak.

“As long as you are up so late at night,” he said, “and not enjoying the comfort and the security of your own bed, you might as well be at ease. Arnold, my son, never thinks of things like this.” He took Miss Goering’s cloak off and complimented her on her lovely dress.

“Now tell me where you have been and what you have done. I myself don’t go out in society, being content with the company of my wife and son.”

Arnold shrugged his shoulders and pretended to look absently around the room. But any person even a little observant could have seen that his face was decidedly hostile.

“Now tell me about this party,” said Arnold’s father adjusting the scarf that he was wearing around his neck. “ You tell me.” He pointed at Miss Goering, who was beginning to feel much gayer already. She had instantly preferred Arnold’s father to Arnold himself.

“I’ll tell you about it,” said Arnold. “There were many people there, the majority of whom were creative artists, some successful and rich, others rich simply because they had inherited money from some member of the family, and others with just barely enough to eat. None of these people, however, were interested in money as an objective but would have been content, all of them, with just enough to eat.”

“Like wild animals,” said his father, rising to his feet. “Like wolves! What separates a man from a wolf if it is not that a man wants to make a profit?”

Miss Goering laughed until the tears streamed down her face. Arnold took some magazines from the table and began looking through them very quickly.

Just then Arnold’s mother came into the room carrying in one hand a plate heaped with cakes and in the other a cup of coffee.

She was dowdy and unimpressive and of very much the same build as Arnold. She was wearing a pink wrapper.

“Welcome,” said Miss Goering to Arnold’s mother. “May I have a piece of your cake?”

Arnold’s mother, who was a very gauche woman, did not offer Miss Goering any of the cake; instead, hugging the platter close to her, she said to Miss Goering: “Have you known Arnold for long?”

“No, I met your son tonight, at a party.”

“Well,” said Arnold’s mother, putting the tray down and sitting on the sofa, “I guess that isn’t long, is it?”

Arnold’s father was annoyed with his wife and showed it plainly in his face.

“I hate that pink wrapper,” he said.

“Why do you talk about that now when there is company?”

“Because the company doesn’t make the wrapper look any different.” He winked broadly at Miss Goering and then burst out laughing. Miss Goering again laughed heartily at his remark. Arnold was even glummer than he had been a moment before.

“Miss Goering,” said Arnold, “was afraid to go home alone, so I told her that she was welcome to sleep in the extra room. Although the bed isn’t very comfortable in there, I think that she will at least have privacy.”

“And why, ” said Arnold’s father, “was Miss Goering afraid to go home alone?”

“Well,” said Arnold, “it is not really very safe for a lady to wander about the streets or even to be in a taxi without an escort at so late an hour. Particularly if she has very far to go. Of course if she hadn’t had so far to go I should naturally have accompanied her myself.”

“You sound like a sissy, the way you talk,” said his father. “I thought that you and your friends were not afraid of such things. I thought you were wild ones and that rape meant no more to you than flying a balloon.”

“Oh, don’t talk like that,” said Arnold’s mother, looking really horrified. “Why do you talk like that to them?”

“I wish you would go to bed,” Arnold’s father said. “As a matter of fact, I am going to order you to go to bed. You are getting a cold.”

“Isn’t he terrible?” said Arnold’s mother, smiling at Miss Goering. “Even when there is company in the house he can’t control his lion nature. He has a nature like a lion, roaring in the apartment all day long, and he gets so upset about Arnold and his friends.”

Arnold’s father stamped out of the room and they heard a door slam down the hall.

“Excuse me,” said Arnold’s mother to Miss Goering, “I didn’t want to upset the party.”

Miss Goering was very annoyed, for she found the old man quite exhilarating, and Arnold himself was depressing her more and more.

“I think I’ll show you where you’re going to sleep,” said Arnold, getting up from the sofa and in so doing allowing some magazines to slide from his lap to the floor. “Oh, well,” he said, “come this way. I’m pretty sleepy and disgusted with this whole affair.”

Miss Goering followed Arnold reluctantly down the hall.