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

“You see!” Harriet nodded at Sadie with immense satisfaction, “I was not fibbing, was I? How are Evy and Bert?” she asked again, her face twitching a bit. “Is the apartment hot?”

Sadie nodded.

“I don’t know how long you plan to stay,” Harriet rattled on, feeling increasingly powerful and therefore reckless, “but I’m going on a canoe trip the day after tomorrow for five days. We’re going up the river to Pocahontas Falls.… I leave at four in the morning, too, which rather ruins tomorrow as well. I’ve been looking forward to this trip ever since last spring when I applied for my seat, back at the apartment. The canoes are limited, and the guides.… I’m devoted to canoe trips, as you know, and can fancy myself a red-skin all the way to the Falls and back, easily.”

Sadie did not answer.

“There’s nothing weird about it,” Harriet argued. “It’s in keeping with my hatred of industrialization. In any case, you can see what a chopped-up day tomorrow’s going to be. I have to make my pack in the morning and I must be in bed by eight-thirty at night, the latest, so that I can get up at four. I’ll have only one real meal, at two in the afternoon. I suggest we meet at two behind the souvenir booth; you’ll notice it tomorrow.” Harriet waited expectantly for Sadie to answer in agreement to this suggestion, but her sister remained silent.

“Speaking of the booth,” said Rover, “I’m not taking home a single souvenir this year. They’re expensive and they don’t last.”

“You can buy salt-water taffy at Gerald’s Store in town,” Beryl told her. “I saw some there last week. It’s a little stale but very cheap.”

“Why would they sell salt-water taffy in the mountains?” Rover asked irritably.

Sadie was half listening to the conversation; as she sat watching them, all three women were suddenly unrecognizable; it was as if she had flung open the door to some dentist’s office and seen three strangers seated there. She sprang to her feet in terror.

Harriet was horrified. “What is it?” she yelled at her sister. “Why do you look like that? Are you mad?”

Sadie was pale and beads of sweat were forming under her felt hat, but the women opposite her had already regained their correct relation to herself and the present moment. Her face relaxed, and although her legs were trembling as a result of her brief but shocking experience, she felt immensely relieved that it was all over.

“Why did you jump up?” Harriet screeched at her. “Is it because you are at Camp Cataract and not at the apartment?”

“It must have been the long train trip and no food…” Sadie told herself, “only one sandwich.”

“Is it because you are at Camp Cataract and not at the apartment?” Harriet insisted. She was really very frightened and wished to establish Sadie’s fit as a purposeful one and not as an involuntary seizure similar to one of hers.

“It was a long and dirty train trip,” Sadie said in a weary voice. “I had only one sandwich all day long, with no mustard or butter … just the processed meat. I didn’t even eat my fruit.”

“Beryl offered to serve you food in the Grotto!” Harriet ranted. “Do you want some now or not? For heaven’s sake, speak up!”

“No … no.” Sadie shook her head sorrowfully. “I think I’d best go to bed. Take me to your cabin … I’ve got my slippers and my kimono and my nightgown in my satchel,” she added, looking around her vaguely, for the fact that Beryl had carried her grip off had never really impressed itself upon her consciousness.

Harriet glanced at Beryl with an air of complicity and managed to give her a quick pinch. “Beryl’s got you fixed up in one of the upper lodge annex rooms,” she told Sadie in a false, chatterbox voice. “You’ll be much more comfortable up here than you would be down in my cabin. We all use oil lamps in the grove and you know how dependent you are on electricity.”

Sadie didn’t know whether she was dependent on electricity or not since she had never really lived without it, but she was so tired that she said nothing.

“I get up terribly early and my cabin’s drafty, besides,” Harriet went on. “You’ll be much more comfortable here. You’d hate the Boulder Dam wigwams as well. Anyway, the wigwams are really for boys and they’re always full. There’s a covered bridge leading from this building to the annex on the upper floor, so that’s an advantage.”

“O.K., folks,” Beryl cut in, judging that she could best help Harriet by spurring them on to action. “Let’s get going.”

“Yes,” Harriet agreed, “if we don’t get out of the lodge soon the crowd will come back from the movies and we certainly want to avoid them.”

They bade good night to Rover and started up the stairs.

“This balustrade is made of young birch limbs,” Harriet told Sadie as they walked along the narrow gallery overhead. “I think it’s very much in keeping with the lodge, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do,” Sadie answered.

Beryl opened the door leading from the balcony onto a covered bridge and stepped through it, motioning to the others. “Here we go onto the bridge,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “You’ve never visited the annex, have you?” she asked Harriet.

“I’ve never had any reason to,” Harriet answered in a huffy tone. “You know how I feel about my cabin.”

They walked along the imperfectly fitted boards in the darkness. Gusts of wind blew about their ankles and they were constantly spattered with rain in spite of the wooden roofing. They reached the door at the other end very quickly, however, where they descended two steps leading into a short, brightly lit hall. Beryl closed the door to the bridge behind them. The smell of fresh plaster and cement thickened the damp air.

“This is the annex,” said Beryl. “We put old ladies here mostly, because they can get back and forth to the dining room without going outdoors … and they’ve got the toilet right here, too.” She flung open the door and showed it to them. “Then also,” she added, “we don’t like the old ladies dealing with oil lamps and here they’ve got electricity.” She led them into a little room just at their left and switched on the light. “Pretty smart, isn’t it?” she remarked, looking around her with evident satisfaction, as if she herself had designed the room; then, sauntering over to a modernistic wardrobe-bureau combination, she polished a corner of it with her pocket handkerchief. This piece was made of shiny brown wood and fitted with a rimless circular mirror. “Strong and good-looking,” Beryl said, rapping on the wood with her knuckles. “Every room’s got one.”

Sadie sank down on the edge of the bed without removing her outer garments. Here, too, the smell of plaster and cement permeated the air, and the wind still blew about their ankles, this time from under the badly constructed doorsill.

“The cabins are much draftier than this,” Harriet assured Sadie once again. “You’ll be more comfortable here in the annex.” She felt confident that establishing her sister in the annex would facilitate her plan, which was still to prevent her from saying whatever she had come to say.

Sadie was terribly tired. Her hat, dampened by the rain, pressed uncomfortably against her temples, but she did not attempt to remove it. “I think I’ve got to go to sleep,” she muttered. “I can’t stay awake any more.”

“All right,” said Harriet, “but don’t forget tomorrow at two by the souvenir booth … you can’t miss it. I don’t want to see anyone in the morning because I can make my canoe pack better by myself … it’s frightfully complicated.… But if I hurried I could meet you at one-thirty; would you prefer that?”