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

“God-damned velours,” he said finally. “It’s the hottest stuff I ever sat on.”

“Next summer we’ll get covers,” Sadie reassured him, “with a flower pattern if you like. What’s your favorite flower?” she asked, just to make conversation and to distract him from looking at her face.

Bert Hoffer stared at her as if she’d quite taken leave of her senses. He was a fat man with a red face and wavy hair. Instead of answering this question, which he considered idiotic, he mopped his brow with his handkerchief.

“I’ll fix you a canned pineapple salad for supper,” she said to him with glowing eyes. “It will taste better than heavy meat on a night like this.”

“If you’re going to dish up pineapple salad for supper,” Bert Hoffer answered with a dark scowl, “you can telephone some other guy to come and eat it. You’ll find me over at Martie’s Tavern eating meat and potatoes, if there’s any messages to deliver.”

“I thought because you were hot,” said Sadie.

“I was talking about the velvet, wasn’t I? I didn’t say anything about the meat.”

He was a very trying man indeed, particularly in a small apartment, but Sadie never dwelled upon this fact at all. She was delighted to cook and clean for him and for her sister Evelyn so long as they consented to live under the same roof with her and Harriet.

Just then Evelyn walked briskly into the parlor. Like Sadie she was dark, but here the resemblance ceased, for she had a small and wiry build, with a flat chest, and her hair was as straight as an Indian’s. She stared at her husband’s shirt sleeves and at Sadie’s apron with distaste. She was wearing a crisp summer dress with a very low neckline, an unfortunate selection for one as bony and fierce-looking as she.

“You both look ready for the dump heap, not for the dining room,” she said to them. “Why do we bother to have a dining room … is it just a farce?”

“How was the office today?” Sadie asked her sister.

Evelyn looked at Sadie and narrowed her eyes in closer scrutiny. The muscles in her face tightened. There was a moment of dead silence, and Bert Hoffer, cocking a wary eye in his wife’s direction, recognized the dangerous flush on her cheeks. Secretly he was pleased. He loved to look on when Evelyn blew up at Sadie, but he tried to conceal his enjoyment because he did not consider it a very masculine one.

“What’s the matter with you?” Evelyn asked finally, drawing closer to Sadie. “There’s something wrong besides your dirty apron.”

Sadie colored slightly but said nothing.

“You look crazy,” Evelyn yelled. “What’s the matter with you? You look so crazy I’d be almost afraid to ask you to go to the store for something. Tell me what’s happened!” Evelyn was very excitable; nonetheless hers was a strong and sane nature.

“I’m not crazy,” Sadie mumbled. “I’ll go get the dinner.” She pushed slowly past Evelyn and with her heavy step she left the parlor.

The mahogany dining table was much too wide for the small oblong-shaped room, clearing the walls comfortably only at the two ends. When many guests were present some were seated first on one side of the room and were then obliged to draw the table toward themselves, until its edge pressed painfully into their diaphragms, before the remaining guests could slide into their seats on the opposite side.

Sadie served the food, but only Bert Hoffer ate with any appetite. Evelyn jabbed at her meat once or twice, tasted it, and dropped her fork, which fell with a clatter on to her plate.

Had the food been more savory she might not have pursued her attack on Sadie until later, or very likely she would have forgotten it altogether. Unfortunately, however, Sadie, although she insisted on fulfilling the role of housewife, and never allowed the others to acquit themselves of even the smallest domestic task, was a poor cook and a careless cleaner as well. Her lumpy gravies were tasteless, and she had once or twice boiled a good cut of steak out of indifference. She was lavish, too, in spite of being indifferent, and kept her cupboards so loaded with food that a certain quantity spoiled each week and there was often an unpleasant odor about the house. Harriet, in fact, was totally unaware of Sadie’s true nature and had fallen into the trap her sister had instinctively prepared for her, because beyond wearing an apron and simulating the airs of other housewives, Sadie did not possess a community spirit at all, as Harriet had stated to Beryl the waitress. Sadie certainly yearned to live in the grown-up world that her parents had established for them when they were children, but in spite of the fact that she had wanted to live in that world with Harriet, and because of Harriet, she did not understand it properly. It remained mysterious to her even though she did all the housekeeping and managed the apartment entirely alone. She couldn’t ever admit to herself that she lived in constant fear that Harriet would go away, but she brooded a great deal on outside dangers, and had she tried, she could not have remembered a time when this fear had not been her strongest emotion.

Sometimes an ecstatic and voracious look would come into her eyes, as if she would devour her very existence because she loved it so much. Such passionate moments of appreciation were perhaps her only reward for living a life which she knew in her heart was one of perpetual narrow escape. Although Sadie was neither sly nor tricky, but on the contrary profoundly sincere and ingenuous, she schemed unconsciously to keep the Hoffers in the apartment with them, because she did not want to reveal the true singleness of her interest either to Harriet or to herself. She sensed as well that Harriet would find it more difficult to break away from all three of them (because as a group they suggested a little society, which impressed her sister) than she would to escape from her alone. In spite of her mortal dread that Harriet might strike out on her own, she had never brooded on the possibility of her sister’s marrying. Here, too, her instinct was correct: she knew that she was safe and referred often to the “normal channels of marriage,” conscious all the while that such an intimate relationship with a man would be as uninteresting to Harriet as it would to herself.

From a financial point of view this communal living worked out more than satisfactorily. Each sister had inherited some real estate which yielded her a small monthly stipend; these stipends, combined with the extra money that the Hoffers contributed out of their salaries, covered their common living expenses. In return for the extra sum the Hoffers gave toward the household expenses, Sadie contributed her work, thus saving them the money they would have spent hiring a servant, had they lived alone. A fourth sister, whose marriage had proved financially more successful than Evy’s, contributed generously toward Harriet’s support at Camp Cataract, since Harriet’s stipend certainly did not yield enough to cover her share of their living expenses at the apartment and pay for a long vacation as well.

Neither Sadie nor Bert Hoffer had looked up when Evy’s fork clattered onto her plate. Sadie was truly absorbed in her own thoughts, whereas Bert Hoffer was merely pretending to be, while secretly he rejoiced at the unmistakable signal that his wife was about to blow up.

“When I find out why Sadie looks like that if she isn’t going to be crazy, then I’ll eat,” Evelyn announced flatly, and she folded her arms across her chest.

“I’m not crazy,” Sadie said indistinctly, glancing toward Bert Hoffer, not in order to enlist his sympathies, but to avoid her younger sister’s sharp scrutiny.

“There’s a big danger of your going crazy because of Grandma and Harriet,” said Evelyn crossly. “That’s why I get so nervous the minute you look a little out of the way, like you do tonight. It’s not that you get Harriet’s expression … but then you might be getting a different kind of craziness … maybe worse. She’s all right if she can go away and there’s not too much excitement … it’s only in spells anyway. But you — you might get a worse kind. Maybe it would be steadier.”