My Sister's Hand in Mine (27 page)

He paid no attention to her, but stamped even harder than before, and pressed on the button over and over again as though the fear in her voice had excited him. At last the elevator started to rise. Miss Goering hid her face in her hands. They reached the second floor, where the elevator stopped, and they got out. They waited together in front of one of three doors that opened on a narrow hall.

“Jim has the keys with him,” said Ben; “he'll be up in a minute. I hope you understand that we won't go dancing or any nonsense. I can't stand what people call fun.”

“Oh, I love all that,” said Miss Goering. “Fundamentally I am a light-hearted person. That is, I enjoy all the things that light-hearted people enjoy.”

Ben yawned.

“He's never going to listen to me,” Miss Goering said to herself.

*   *   *

Presently the chauffeur returned with the keys and let them into the apartment. The living-room was small and unattractive. Someone had left an enormous bundle in the middle of the floor. Through some rents in the paper Miss Goering could see that the bundle contained a pretty pink quilt. She felt a little heartened at the sight of the quilt and asked Ben whether or not he had chosen it himself. Without answering her question he called to the chauffeur, who had gone into the kitchen adjoining the living-room. The door between the two rooms was open, and Miss Goering could see the chauffeur standing next to the sink in his hat and coat and slowly unwrapping the steaks.

“I told you to see that they called for that damn blanket,” Ben shouted to him.

“I forgot.”

“Then carry one of those reminder pads with you and pull it out of your pocket once in a while. You can buy one at the corner.”

Ben threw himself down on the couch next to Miss Goering, who had seated herself, and put his hand on her knee.

“Why? Don't you want the quilt now that you have bought it?” Miss Goering asked him.

“I didn't buy it. That girl who was here with me last week bought it, to throw over us in bed.”

“And you don't like the color?”

“I don't like a lot of extra stuff hanging around.”

He sat brooding for a few minutes and Miss Goering, whose heart began to beat much too quickly each time that he lapsed into silence, searched her mind for another question to ask.

“You're not fond of discussions,” she said to him.

“You mean talking?”

“Yes.”

“No, I'm not.”

“Why aren't you?”

“You say too much when you talk,” he answered absently.

“Well, aren't you anxious to find out about people?”

He shook his head. “I don't need to find out about people, and, what's more important, they don't need to find out about me.” He looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Well,” she said a little breathlessly, “there must be something you like.”

“I like women a lot and I like to make money if I can make it quickly.” Without warning he jumped to his feet and pulled Miss Goering up with him, grabbing hold of her wrist rather roughly. “While he's finishing the steaks let's go inside for a minute.”

“Oh, please,” Miss Goering pleaded, “I'm so tired. Let's rest here a little before dinner.”

“All right,” said Ben. “I'm going to my room and stretch out till the steaks are cooked. I like them overdone.”

While he was gone, Miss Goering sat on the couch pulling at her sweating fingers. She was torn between an almost overwhelming desire to bolt out of the room and a sickening compulsion to remain where she was.

“I do hope,” she said to herself, “that the steaks will be ready before I have a chance to decide.”

However, by the time the chauffeur awakened Ben to announce that the steaks were cooked, Miss Goering had decided that it was absolutely necessary for her to stay.

They sat together around a small folding table and ate in silence. They had barely finished their meal when the telephone rang. Ben answered, and when he had finished his conversation he told Miss Goering and Jim that they were all three of them going into the city. The chauffeur looked at him knowingly.

“It doesn't take long from here,” said Ben, pulling on his coat. He turned to Miss Goering. “We are going to a restaurant,” he said to her. “You'll sit patient at a separate table while I talk business with some friends. If it gets terribly late you and me will spend the night in the city at a hotel where I always go, downtown. Jim will drive the car back out and sleep here. Now is everything understood by everybody?”

“Perfectly,” said Miss Goering, who was naturally delighted that they were leaving the apartment.

*   *   *

The restaurant was not very gay. It was in a large square room on the first floor of an old house. Ben led her to a table near the wall and told her to sit down.

“Every now and then you can order something,” he said, and went over to three men who were standing at a makeshift bar improvised of thin strips of wood and papier-mâché.

The guests were nearly all men, and Miss Goering noticed that there were no distinguished faces among them, although not one of them was shabbily dressed. The three men to whom Ben was talking were ugly and even brutal-looking. Presently she saw Ben make a sign to a woman who was seated not far from her own table. She went and spoke to him and then walked quickly over to Miss Goering's table.

“He wants you to know he's going to be here a long time, maybe over two hours. I am supposed to get you what you want. Would you like some spaghetti or a sandwich? I'll get you whichever you want.”

“No, thank you,” said Miss Goering. “But won't you sit down and have a drink with me?”

“To tell you the truth, I won't,” said the woman, “although I thank you very much.” She hesitated a moment before saying good-by. “Of course, I would like to have you come over to our table and join us, but the situation is hard to explain. Most of us here are close friends, and when we see each other we tell each other everything that has happened.”

“I understand,” said Miss Goering, who was rather sad to see her leave because she did not fancy sitting alone for two or three hours. Although she was not anxious to be in Ben's company, the suspense of waiting all that time with so little to distract her was almost unbearable. It occurred to her that she might possibly telephone to a friend and ask her to come and have a drink at the restaurant. “Certainly,” she thought. “Ben can't object to my having a little chat with another woman.” Anna and Mrs. Copperfield were the only two people she knew well enough to invite on such short notice. Of the two she preferred Mrs. Copperfield and thought her the most likely to accept such an invitation. But she was not certain that Mrs. Copperfield had returned yet from her trip through Central America. She called the waiter and requested that he take her to the phone. After asking a few questions he showed her into a drafty hall and called the number for her. She was successful in reaching her friend, who was terribly excited the moment she heard Miss Goering's voice.

“I am flying down immediately,” she said to Miss Goering. “I can't tell you how terrific it is to hear from you. I have not been back long, you know, and I don't think I'll stay.”

Just as Mrs. Copperfield was telling her this, Ben came into the hall and snatched the receiver from Miss Goering's hand. “What's this about, for Christ's sake?” he demanded.

Miss Goering asked Mrs. Copperfield to hold on a moment. “I am calling a woman friend,” she said to Ben, “a woman whom I haven't seen in quite some time. She is a lively person and I thought she might like to come down and have a drink with me. I was growing lonely at my table.”

“Hello,” Ben shouted into the phone, “are you coming down here?”

“By all means and
tout de suite,
” Mrs. Copperfield answered. “I adore her.”

Ben seemed satisfied and returned the receiver to Miss Goering without saying a word. Before leaving the hall, however, he announced to Miss Goering that he was not going to take on two women. She nodded and resumed her conversation with Mrs. Copperfield. She told her the address of the restaurant which the waiter had written down for her, and said good-by.

About half an hour later Mrs. Copperfield arrived, accompanied by a woman whom Miss Goering had never seen before. She was dismayed at the sight of her old friend. She was terribly thin and she appeared to be suffering from a skin eruption. Mrs. Copperfield's friend was fairly attractive, Miss Goering thought, but her hair was far too wiry for her own taste. Both women were dressed expensively and in black.

“There she is,” Mrs. Copperfield screamed, grabbing Pacifica by the hand and running over to Miss Goering's table.

“I can't tell you how delighted I am that you called,” she said. “You are the one person in the world I wanted to have see me. This is Pacifica. She is with me in my apartment.”

Miss Goering asked them to sit down.

“Listen,” said Pacifica to Miss Goering, “I have a date with a boy very far uptown. It is wonderful to see you, but he will be very nervous and unhappy. She can talk to you and I'll go and see him now. You are great friends, she told me.”

Mrs. Copperfield rose to her feet. “Pacifica,” she said, “you must stay here and have drinks first. This is a miracle and you must be in on it.”

“It is so late now that I will be in a damned mess if I don't go right away. She would not come here alone,” Pacifica said to Miss Goering.

“Remember, you promised to come and get me afterwards,” said Mrs. Copperfield. “I will telephone you as soon as Christina is ready to leave.”

Pacifica said good-by and hurried out of the room.

“What do you think of her?” Mrs. Copperfield asked Miss Goering, but without waiting for an answer she called for the waiter and ordered two double whiskies. “What do you think of her?” she repeated.

“Where's she from?”

“She is a Spanish girl from Panama, and the most wonderful character that has ever existed. We don't make a move without each other. I am completely satisfied and contented.”

“I should say, though, that you are a little run down,” said Miss Goering, who was frankly worried about her friend.

“I'll tell you,” said Mrs. Copperfield, leaning over the table and suddenly looking very tense. “I am a little worried—not terribly worried, because I shan't allow anything to happen that I don't want to happen—but I am a little worried because Pacifica has met this blond boy who lives way uptown and he has asked her to marry him. He never says anything and he has a very weak character. But I think he has bewitched her because he pays her compliments all the time. I've gone up to his apartment with her, because I won't allow them to be alone, and she has cooked dinner for him twice. He's crazy for Spanish food and eats ravenously of every dish she puts in front of him.”

Mrs. Copperfield leaned back and stared intently into Miss Goering's eyes.

“I am taking her back to Panama as soon as I am able to book passage on a boat.” She ordered another double whisky. “Well, what do you think of it?” she asked eagerly.

“Perhaps you'd better wait and see whether or not she really wants to marry him.”

“Don't be insane,” said Mrs. Copperfield. “I can't live without her, not for a minute. I'd go completely to pieces.”

“But you have gone to pieces, or do I misjudge you dreadfully?”

“True enough,” said Mrs. Copperfield, bringing her fist down on the table and looking very mean. “I
have
gone to pieces, which is a thing I've wanted to do for years. I know I am as guilty as I can be, but I have my happiness, which I guard like a wolf, and I have authority now and a certain amount of daring, which, if you remember correctly, I never had before.”

Mrs. Copperfield was getting drunk and looking more disagreeable.

“I remember,” said Miss Goering, “that you used to be somewhat shy, but I dare say very courageous. It would take a good deal of courage to live with a man like Mr. Copperfield, whom I gather you are no longer living with. I've admired you very much indeed. I am not sure that I do now.”

“That makes no difference to me,” said Mrs. Copperfield. “I feel that you have changed anyway and lost your charm. You seem stodgy to me now and less comforting. You used to be so gracious and understanding; everyone thought you were light in the head, but I thought you were extremely instinctive and gifted with magic powers.” She ordered another drink and sat brooding for a moment.

“You will contend,” she continued in a very clear voice, “that all people are of equal importance, but although I love Pacifica very much, I think it is obvious that I am more important.”

Miss Goering did not feel that she had any right to argue this point with Mrs. Copperfield.

“I understand how you feel,” she said, “and perhaps you are right.”

“Thank God,” said Mrs. Copperfield, and she took Miss Goering's hand in her own.

“Christina,” she pleaded, “please don't cross me again, I can't bear it.”

Miss Goering hoped that Mrs. Copperfield would now question her concerning her own life. She had a great desire to tell someone everything that had happened during the last year. But Mrs. Copperfield sat gulping down her drink, occasionally spilling a little of it over her chin. She was not even looking at Miss Goering and they sat for ten minutes in silence.

“I think,” said Mrs. Copperfield at last, “that I will telephone Pacifica and tell her to call for me in three quarters of an hour.”

Miss Goering showed her to the phone and returned to the table. She looked up after a moment and noticed that another man had joined Ben and his friends. When her friend returned from the telephone, Miss Goering saw immediately that something was very much the matter. Mrs. Copperfield fell into her seat.