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

They had bought the chairs that very morning and were consequently feeling lighthearted and festive. When the children arrived they were singing a little song together.

“Why don’t we buy something to drink?” said Gudelia, when they stopped singing.

“Now you’re going to go crazy, I see,” said Ramón’s mother. “You’re very disagreeable when you’re drinking.”

“No, I’m not,” said Gudelia.

“Mother,” said Ramón. “This little girl has come to buy Victoria.”

“I have never seen you before,” said Ramón’s mother to Lilina.

“Nor I,” said Gudelia. “I am Ramón’s aunt, Gudelia. This is my house.”

“My name is Lilina Ramirez. I want to bargain for Ramón’s Victoria.”

“Victoria,” they repeated gravely.

“Ramón is very fond of Victoria and so are Gudelia and I,” said his mother. “It’s a shame that we sold Alfredo the parrot. We sold him for far too little. He sang and danced. We have taken care of Victoria for a long time, and it has been very expensive. She eats much meat.” This was an obvious lie. They all looked at Lilina.

“Where do you live, dear?” Gudelia asked Lilina.

“I live in the capital, but I’m staying now at Señora Espinoza’s pension.”

“I meet her in the market every day of my life,” said Gudelia. “Maria de la Luz Espinoza. She buys a lot. How many people has she staying in her house? Five, six?”

“Nine.”

“Nine! Dear God! Does she have many animals?”

“Certainly,” said Lilina.

“Come,” said Ramón to Lilina. “Let’s go outside and bargain.”

“He loves that snake,” said Ramón’s mother, looking fixedly at Lilina.

The aunt sighed. “Victoria … Victoria.”

Lilina and Ramón climbed through a hole in the wall and sat down together in the midst of some foliage.

“Listen,” said Ramón. “If you kiss me, I’ll give you Victoria for nothing. You have blue eyes. I saw them when we were in the street.”

“I can hear what you are saying,” his mother called out from the kitchen.

“Shame, shame,” said Gudelia. “Giving Victoria away for nothing. Your mother will be without food. I can buy my own food, but what will your mother do?”

Lilina jumped to her feet impatiently. She saw that they were getting nowhere, and unlike most of her countrymen, she was always eager to get things done quickly.

She stamped back into the kitchen, opened her eyes very wide in order to frighten the two ladies, and shouted as loud as she could: “Sell me that snake right now or I will go away and never put my foot in this house again.”

The two women were not used to such a display of rage over the mere settlement of a price. They rose from their chairs and started moving about the room to no purpose, picking up things and putting them down again. They were not quite sure what to do. Gudelia was terribly upset. She stepped here and there with her hand below her breast, peering about cautiously. Finally she slipped out into the patio and disappeared.

Ramón took Victoria out of his pocket. They arranged a price and Lilina left, carrying her in a little box.

* * *

Meanwhile Señora Ramirez and her daughter were on their way home from the band concert. Both of them were in a bad humor. Consuelo was not disposed to talk at all. She looked angrily at the houses they were passing and sighed at everything her mother had to say. “You have no merriment in your heart,” said Señora Ramirez. “Just revenge.” As Consuelo refused to answer, she continued. “Sometimes I feel that I am walking along with an assassin.”

She stopped still in the street and looked up at the sky. “Jesu Maria!” she said. “Don’t let me say such things about my own daughter.” She clutched at Consuelo’s arm.

“Come, come. Let us hurry. My feet ache. What an ugly city this is!”

Consuelo began to whimper. The word “assassin” had affected her painfully. Although she had no very clear idea of an assassin in her mind, she knew it to be a gross insult and contrary to all usage when applied to a young lady of breeding. It so frightened her that her mother had used such a word in connection with her that she actually felt a little sick to her stomach.

“No, mamá, no!” she cried. “Don’t say that I am an assassin. Don’t!” Her hands were beginning to shake, and already the tears were filling her eyes. Her mother hugged her and they stood for a moment locked in each other’s arms.

Maria, the servant, was standing near the fountain looking into it when Consuelo and her mother arrived at the pension. The traveler and Señorita Córdoba were seated together having a chat.

“Doesn’t love interest you?” the traveler was asking her.

“No … no…” answered Señorita Córdoba. “City life, business, the theater.…” She sounded somewhat halfhearted about the theater.

“Well, that’s funny,” said the traveler. “In my country most young girls are interested in love. There are some, of course, who are interested in having a career, either business or the stage. But I’ve heard tell that even these women deep down in their hearts want a home and everything that goes with it.”

“So?” said Señorita Córdoba.

“Well, yes,” said the traveler. “Deep down in your heart, don’t you always hope the right man will come along some day?”

“No … no … no.… Do you?” she said absentmindedly.

“Who, me? No.”

“No?”

She was the most preoccupied woman he had ever spoken with.

“Look, señoras,” said Maria to Consuelo and her mother. “Look what is floating around in the fountain! What is it?”

Consuelo bent over the basin and fished around a bit. Presently she pulled out her mother’s pink corset.

“Why, mamá,” she said. “It’s your corset.”

Señora Ramirez examined the wet corset. It was covered with muck from the bottom of the fountain. She went over to a chair and sat down in it, burying her face in her hands. She rocked back and forth and sobbed very softly. Señora Espinoza came out of her room.

“Lilina, my sister, threw it into the fountain,” Consuelo announced to all present.

Señora Espinoza looked at the corset.

“It can be fixed. It can be fixed,” she said, walking over to Señora Ramirez and putting her arms around her.

“Look, my friend. My dear little friend, why don’t you go to bed and get some sleep? Tomorrow you can think about getting it cleaned.”

“How can we stand it? Oh, how can we stand it?” Señora Ramirez asked imploringly, her beautiful eyes filled with sorrow. “Sometimes,” she said in a trembling voice, “I have no more strength than a sparrow. I would like to send my children to the four winds and sleep and sleep and sleep.”

Consuelo, hearing this, said in a gentle tone: “Why don’t you do so, mamá?”

“They are like two daggers in my heart, you see?” continued her mother.

“No, they are not,” said Señora Espinoza. “They are flowers that brighten your life.” She removed her glasses and polished them on her blouse.

“Daggers in my heart,” repeated Señora Ramirez.

“Have some hot soup,” urged Señora Espinoza. “Maria will make you some — a gift from me — and then you can go to bed and forget all about this.”

“No, I think I will just sit here, thank you.”

“Mamá is going to have one of her fits,” said Consuelo to the servant. “She does sometimes. She gets just like a child instead of getting angry, and she doesn’t worry about what she is eating or when she goes to sleep, but she just sits in a chair or goes walking and her face looks very different from the way it looks at other times.” The servant nodded, and Consuelo went in to bed.