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

Julia was Mexican and a great favorite with the men, who enjoyed feeling that they were endangering her very life by going to bed with her.

“Well,” said Inez, “I think that this afternoon I will go to the movies, if you will lend me a pair of your stockings. You had better lie here in your bed. I would sit here with you but it makes me feel very strange now to stay in this room. It is peculiar because, you know, I am a very calm woman and have suffered a great deal since I was born. You should go to a doctor,” she added.

“I cannot bear to be out in the street,” said Julia. “The sun is too hot and the wind is too cold. The smell of the market makes me feel sick, although I have known it all my life. No sooner have I walked a few blocks than I must find some park to sit in, I am so tired. Then somebody comes and tries to sell me orchids and I buy them. I have been out three times, this week and each time I have bought some flowers. Now you know I can’t afford to do this, but I am so weak and ill that I am becoming more like my grandmother every day. She had a feeling that she was not wanted here on this earth, either by God or by other people, so she never felt that she could refuse anyone anything.”

“Well, if you are going to become like your grandmother,” said Inez, “it will be a sad mistake. I should forget this sort of thing. You’ll get to the doctor. Meanwhile, sit in the sun more. I don’t want to be unkind.…”

“No, no. You are not unkind,” Julia protested.

“You sit in this dark room all day long even when there is sun and you do not feel so sick.”

Julia was feeling more desperately lonely than she had ever felt before in her life. She patted her heart. Suddenly the door pushed open and Señor Kurten came into the room. He was a slight man with a low forehead and a long nose.

“Julia and Inez,” he said. “Señor Ramirez just telephoned that he is coming over this afternoon with a friend. He is going to take you both out to the country on a picnic and you are to hurry up and be ready. Try to bring them back to the bar in the evening.”

“Hans,” said Julia. “I am sick. I can’t see Señor Ramirez or anyone else.”

“Well, you know I can’t do anything if he wants to see you. If he was angry he could make too much trouble. I am sorry.” Señor Kurten left the room, closing the door slowly behind him.

“He is so important,” said Inez, rubbing some eau de cologne over Julia’s forehead. “So important, poor child. You must go.” Her hand was hard and dry.

“Inez—” Julia clutched at Inez’s kimono just as she was walking away. She struggled out of bed and threw herself into the arms of her friend. Inez was obliged to brace herself against the foot of the bed to keep from being knocked over.

“Don’t make yourself crazy,” said Inez to Julia, but then Inez began to cry; the sound was high like the squeal of a pig.

“Inez,” said Julia. “Get dressed and don’t cry. I feel better, my little baby.”

They went into the bar and sat down to await the arrival of Señor Ramirez and his friend. Julia’s arm was flung over the side of the chair, and her purse was swinging from her hand on an unusually long strap. She had put a little red dot in the corner of each eye, and rouged her cheeks very highly.

“You don’t look very good,” said Inez. “I’m afraid in my heart for you.”

Julia opened her eyes wide and stared fixedly ahead of her at the wall. The Indian boy was polishing a very large alarm clock with care.

Soon Señor Ramirez stuck his head through the doorway. He had a German face but there was something very Spanish in the angle of his slouched fedora hat. His mustaches were blond and abundant. He had just shaved, and the talcum powder was visible on his chin and on his cheeks. He wore a pink shirt and a light tweed jacket, and on the fourth finger of each hand a heavy gold ring studded with a jewel.

“Come on, daughters,” he said. “The car is waiting outside, with my friend. Move along.”

Señor Ramirez drove very quickly. Julia and Inez sat uncomfortably on the edge of the back seat, hanging onto the straps at the side.

“We are going on a picnic,” shouted Señor Ramirez. “I’ve brought with me five bottles of champagne. They are in the back of the car and they were all packed in ice by my cook. There is no reason why we should not have everything we want with us. They are inside a basket in the back. She wrapped the ice in a towel. That way it doesn’t melt so quickly, but still we have to get there in a pretty short time. I drink nothing but American whiskey, so I brought along a quart of it for myself. What do you think of that?”

“Oh, how nice,” said Julia.

“I think we shall have a wonderful time,” said Inez.

Señor Ramirez’s friend Alfredo looked ill and disgruntled. He did not say anything himself, nor did the angle of his head indicate that he was listening to a word that anyone else was saying.

It was a cold day and the parasols under which the policemen stood were flapping in the wind. They passed a new yellow brick building, high at the top of six or seven flights of yellow brick steps.

“That is going to be a new museum,” said Señor Ramirez. “When it opens we are all going to have a big dinner there together. Everyone there will be an old friend of mine. That’s nothing. I can have dinner with fifty people every night of my life.”

“A life of fiesta,” put in Inez.

“Even more than that. They are more than just fiestas,” he said, without quite knowing what he meant himself.

The sun was shining into Julia’s lap. She felt lightheaded and feverish. Señor Ramirez turned the radio on as loud as he could. They were broadcasting Madame Butterfly as the car reached the outskirts of the city.

“I have three radios at home,” said Señor Ramirez.

“Ah,” said Inez. “One for the morning, one for the night and one for the afternoon.” Julia listened to Inez with interest and wonder. They were on the edge of a deep ravine, going round a curve in the road. The mountainside across the ravine was in the shade, and some Indians were climbing toward the summit.

“Walk, walk, walk…” said Julia mournfully. “Oh, how tired it makes me feel to watch them.”

Inez pinched her friend’s arm. “Listen,” she whispered to her. “You are not in your room. You daren’t say things like that. You must not speak of being tired. It’s no fun for them. They wouldn’t like it.”

“We’ll be coming to that picnic spot in a minute,” said Señor Ramirez. “Nobody knows where it is but me. I like to have a spot, you know, where all my friends won’t come and disturb me. Alfredo,” he added, “are you hungry?”

“I don’t think this Alfredo is very nice, do you?” Inez asked very softly of Julia.

“Oh, yes,” said Julia, for she was not quick to detect a mean nature in anybody, being altogether kind and charitable herself. At last, after driving through a path wide enough for only one car, they arrived at the picnic spot. It was a fair-sized clearing in a little forest. Not far from it, at the bottom of a hill, was a little river and a waterfall. They got out and listened to the noise of the water. Both of the women were delighted with the sound.

“Since it is so sunny out, ladies,” said Señor Ramirez, “I am going to walk around in my underpants. I hope that my friend will do the same if he wants to.”

“What a lucky thing for us,” said Inez in a strident voice. “The day begins right.” Señor Ramirez undressed and slipped on a pair of tennis shoes. His legs were very white and freckled.

“Now I will give you some champagne right away,” he said to them, a little out of breath because he had struggled so quickly out of his clothes. He went over to where he had laid the basket and took from it a champagne bottle. On his way back he stumbled over a rock; the bottle fell from his hand and was smashed in many pieces. For a moment his face clouded over and he looked as though he were about to lose his temper; instead, seizing another bottle from the basket, he flung it high into the air, almost over the tops of the trees. He returned elated to his friends.