My Sister's Hand in Mine (12 page)

“My God!” said Pacifica, “my life is hard enough and I am all alone, but I can still enjoy myself like a young girl.
You,
you are an old man.”

“Your life don't have to be hard, Pacifica.”

“Well, your life is still very hard and you are always trying to make it easy. That's the hardest part even of your life.”

“I'm just waitin' to get a break. With my ideas and a break my life can be easy overnight.”

“And then what will you do?”

“Keep it that way or maybe make it even easier. I'll be plenty busy.”

“You will never have any time for anything.”

“What's a guy like me want time for—plantin' tulips?”

“You don't enjoy to talk to me, Toby.”

“Sure. You're friendly and cute and you got a good brain aside from a few phony ideas.”

“And what about me? Am I friendly and cute too?” asked Mrs. Copperfield.

“Sure. You're all friendly and cute.”

“Copperfield, I think we have just been insulted,” said Pacifica, drawing herself up.

Mrs. Copperfield started to march out of the room in mock anger, but Pacifica was already thinking of something else and Mrs. Copperfield found herself to be in the ridiculous position of the performer who is suddenly without an audience. She came back to the bar.

“Listen,” said Pacifica, “go upstairs and knock on Mrs. Quill's door. Tell her that Mr. Toby wants to meet her very much. Don't say Pacifica sent you. She will know this anyway and it will be easier for her if you don't say it. She will love to come down. That I know like if she was my mother.”

“Oh, I'd love to, Pacifica,” said Mrs. Copperfield, running out of the room.

When Mrs. Copperfield arrived in Mrs. Quill's room, Mrs. Quill was busy cleaning the top drawer of her dresser. It was very quiet in her room and very hot.

“I never have the heart to throw these things away,” said Mrs. Quill, turning around and patting her hair. “I suppose you've met half of Colon,” she said sadly, studying Mrs. Copperfield's flushed face.

“No, I haven't, but would you care to come down and meet Mr. Toby?”

“Who is Mr. Toby, dear?”

“Oh, please come, please come just for me.”

“I will, dear, if you'll sit down and wait while I change into something better.”

Mrs. Copperfield sat down. Her head was spinning. Mrs. Quill pulled out a long black silk dress from her closet. She drew it over her head and then selected some strings of black beads from her jewel-box, and a cameo pin. She powdered her face carefully and stuck several more hairpins into her hair.

“I'm not going to bother to take a bath,” she said when she had finished. “Now, do you really think that I should meet this Mr. Toby, or do you think perhaps another night would be better?”

Mrs. Copperfield took Mrs. Quill's hand and pulled her out of the room. Mrs. Quill's entrance into the barroom was gracious and extremely formal. She was already using the hurt that her beau had caused her to good advantage.

“Now, dear,” she said quietly to Mrs. Copperfield, “tell me which one is Mr. Toby.”

“That one over there, sitting next to Pacifica,” Mrs. Copperfield said hesitantly. She was fearful lest Mrs. Quill should find him completely unattractive and leave the room.

“I see. The stout gentleman.”

“Do you hate fat people?”

“I don't judge people by their bodies. Even when I was a young girl I liked men for their minds. Now that I'm middle-aged I see how right I was.”

“I've always been a body-worshipper,” said Mrs. Copperfield, “but that doesn't mean that I fall in love with people who have beautiful bodies. Some of the bodies I've liked have been awful. Come, let's go over to Mr. Toby.”

Toby stood up for Mrs. Quill and took off his hat.

“Come sit down with us and have a drink.”

“Let me get my bearings, young man. Let me get my bearings.”

“This bar belongs to you, don't it?” said Toby, looking worried.

“Yes, yes,” said Mrs. Quill blandly. She was staring at the top of Pacifica's head. “Pacifica,” she said, “don't you drink too much. I have to watch out for you.”

“Don't you worry, Mrs. Quill. I have been taking care of myself for a long time.” She turned to Lou and said solemnly: “Fifteen years.” Pacifica was completely natural. She behaved as though nothing had occurred between her and Mrs. Quill. Mrs. Copperfield was enchanted. She put her arms around Mrs. Quill's waist and hugged her very tight.

“Oh,” she said, “oh, you make me so happy!”

Toby smiled. “The girl's feelin' good, Mrs. Quill. Now don't you want a drink?”

“Yes, I'll have a glass of gin. It pains me the way these girls come away from their homes so young. I had my home and my mother and my sisters and my brothers until the age of twenty-six. Even so, when I got married I felt like a scared rabbit. As if I was going out into the world. Mr. Quill was like a family to me, though, and it wasn't until he died that I really got out into the world. I was in my thirties then, and more of a scared rabbit than ever. Pacifica's really been out in the world much longer than I have. You know, she is like an old sea captain. Sometimes I feel very silly when she tells me of some of her experiences. My eyes almost pop right out of my head. It isn't so much a question of age as it is a question of experience. The Lord has spared me more than he has spared Pacifica. She hasn't been spared a single thing. Still, she's not as nervous as I am.”

“Well, she certainly don't know how to look out for herself for someone who's had so much experience,” said Toby. “She don't know a good thing when she sees it.”

“Yes, I expect you're right,” said Mrs. Quill, warming up to Toby.

“Sure I'm right. But she's got lots of friends here in Panama, ain't she?”

“I dare say Pacifica has a great many friends,” said Mrs. Quill.

“Come on, you know she's got lots of friends, don't you?”

As Mrs. Quill looked as though she had been somewhat startled by the pressing tone in his voice, Toby decided he was hurrying things too much.

“Who the hell cares, anyway?” he said, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. This seemed to have the right effect on Mrs. Quill, and Toby breathed a sigh of relief.

Mrs. Copperfield went over to a bench in the corner and lay down. She shut her eyes and smiled.

“That's the best thing for her,” said Mrs. Quill to Toby. “She's a nice woman, a dear sweet woman, and she'd had a little too much to drink. Pacifica, she can really take care of herself like she says. I've seen her drink as much as a man, but with her it's different. As I said, she's had all the experience in the world. Now, Mrs. Copperfield and me, we have to watch ourselves more carefully or else have some nice man watching out for us.”

“Yeah,” said Toby, twisting around on his stool. “Bartender, another gin. You want one, don't you?” he asked Mrs. Quill.

“Yes, if you'll watch out for me.”

“Sure I will. I'll even take you home in my arms if you fall down.”

“Oh, no.” Mrs. Quill giggled and flushed. “You wouldn't try that, young man. I'm heavy, you know.”

“Yeah.… Say—”

“Yes?”

“Would you mind telling me something?”

“I'd be delighted to tell you anything you'd like to hear.”

“How is it you ain't never bothered to fix this place up?”

“Oh, dear, isn't it awful? I've always promised myself I would and I never get around to it.”

“No dough?” asked Toby. Mrs. Quill looked vague. “Haven't you got no money to fix it up with?” he repeated.

“Oh yes, certainly I have.” Mrs. Quill looked around at the bar. “I even have some things upstairs that I always promised myself to hang up on the walls here. Everything is so dirty, isn't it? I feel ashamed.”

“No, no,” said Toby impatiently. He was now very animated. “That ain't what I mean at all.”

Mrs. Quill smiled at him sweetly.

“Listen,” said Toby, “I been handlin' restaurants and bars and clubs all my life, and I can make them go.”

“I'm certain that you can.”

“I'm tellin' you that I can. Listen, let's get out of here; let's go some place else where we can really talk. Any place in town you name I'll take you to. It's worth it to me and it'll be worth it to you even more. You'll see. We can have more to drink or maybe a little bite to eat. Listen”—he grabbed hold of Mrs. Quill's upper arm—“would you like to go to the Hotel Washington?”

At first Mrs. Quill did not react, but when she realized what he had said, she answered that she would enjoy it very much, in a voice trembling with emotion. Toby jumped off the stool, pulled his hat down over his face, and started walking out of the bar, saying: “Come on, then,” over his shoulder to Mrs. Quill. He looked annoyed but resolute.

Mrs. Quill took Pacifica's hand in her own and told her that she was going to the Hotel Washington.

“If there was any possible way I would take you with us, I would, Pacifica. I feel very badly to be going there without you, but I don't see how you can come, do you?”

“Now, don't you worry about that, Mrs. Quill. I'm having a very good time here,” said Pacifica in a sincerely world-weary tone of voice.

“That's a hocus-pocus joint,” said Lou.

“Oh no,” said Pacifica, “it is very nice there, very beautiful. She will have a lovely time.” Pacifica pinched Lou. “You don't know,” she said to him.

Mrs. Quill walked out of the bar slowly and joined Toby on the sidewalk. They got into a hack and started for the hotel. Toby was silent. He sprawled way back in his seat and lighted a cigar.

“I regret that automobiles were ever invented,” said Mrs. Quill.

“You'd go crazy tryin' to get from one place to another if they wasn't.”

“Oh, no. I always take my time. There isn't anything that can't wait.”

“That's what you think,” said Toby in a surly tone of voice, sensing that this was just the thing that he would have to combat in Mrs. Quill. “It's just that extra second that makes Man O'War or any other horse come in first,” he said.

“Well, life isn't a horse race.”

“Nowadays that's just what life is.”

“Well, not for me,” said Mrs. Quill.

Toby was disgusted.

The walk which led up to the veranda of the Hotel Washington was lined with African date-palms. The hotel itself was very impressive. They descended from the carriage. Toby stood in the middle of the walk between the scraping palms and looked towards the hotel. It was all lighted up. Mrs. Quill stood beside Toby.

“I'll bet they soak you for drinks in there,” said Toby. “I'll bet they make two hundred per cent profit.”

“Oh, please,” said Mrs. Quill, “if you don't feel you can afford it let's take a carriage and go back. The ride is so pleasant anyway.” Her heart was beating very quickly.

“Don't be a God-damn fool!” Toby said to her, and they headed for the hotel.

The floor in the lobby was of imitation yellow marble. There was a magazine stand in one corner where the guests were able to buy chewing gum and picture postcards, maps, and souvenirs. Mrs. Quill felt as though she had just come off a ship. She wandered about in circles, but Toby went straight up to the man behind the magazine stand and asked him where he could get a drink. He suggested to Toby that they go out on the terrace.

“It's generally where everyone goes,” he said.

They were seated at a table on the edge of the terrace, and they had a very nice view of a stretch of beach and the sea.

Between them on the table there was a little lamp with a rose-colored shade. Toby began at once to twirl the lamp shade. His cigar by now was very short and very wet.

Here and there on the terrace small groups of people were talking together in low voices.

“Dead!” said Toby.

“Oh, I think it's lovely,” said Mrs. Quill. She was shivering a little, as the wind kept blowing over her shoulder, and it was a good deal cooler than in Colon.

A waiter was standing beside them with his pencil poised in the air waiting for an order.

“What do you want?” asked Toby.

“What would you suggest, young man, that's really delicious?” said Mrs. Quill, turning to the waiter.

“Fruit punch à la Washington Hotel,” said the waiter abruptly.

“That
does
sound good.”

“O.K.,” said Toby, “bring one, and a straight rye for me.”

When Mrs. Quill had sipped quite a bit of her drink Toby spoke to her. “So you got the dough, but you never bothered to fix it up.”

“Mmmmmm!” said Mrs. Quill. “They've got every kind of fruit in the world in this drink. I'm afraid I'm behaving just like a baby, but there's no one who likes the good things in this world better than me. Of course, I've never had to do without them, you know.”

“You don't call livin' the way you're livin' havin' the good things in life, do you?” said Toby.

“I live much better than you think. How do you know how I live?”

“Well, you could have more style,” said Toby, “and you could have that easy. I mean the place could be better very easy.”

“It probably would be easy, wouldn't it?”

“Yeah.” Toby waited to see if she would say anything more by herself before he addressed her again.

“Take all these people here,” said Mrs. Quill. “There aren't many of them, but you'd think they'd all get together instead of staying in twos and threes. As long as they're all living here in this gorgeous hotel, you'd think they'd have on their ball dresses and be having a wonderful time every minute, instead of looking out over the terrace or reading. You'd think they'd always be dressed up to the hilt and flirting together instead of wearing those plain clothes.”