My Sister's Hand in Mine

by Jane Bowles

  (MOLLY, a girl of eighteen with straight black hair cut in bangs and a somnolent impassive face, does not hear GERTRUDE’s question but remains in the summer house. GERTRUDE, repeating, goes to railing)

  Are you in the summer house?

  MOLLY Yes, I am.

  GERTRUDE If I believed in acts of violence, I would burn the summer house down. You love to get in there and loll about hour after hour. You can’t even see out because those vines hide the view. Why don’t you find a good flat rock overlooking the ocean and sit on it? (MOLLY fingers the vine) As long as you’re so indifferent to the beauties of nature, I should think you would interest yourself in political affairs, or in music or painting or at least in the future. But I’ve said this to you at least a thousand times before. You admit you relax too much?

  MOLLY I guess I do.

  GERTRUDE We already have to take in occasional boarders to help make ends meet. As the years go by the boarders will increase, and I can barely put up with the few that come here now; I’m not temperamentally suited to boarders. Nor am I interested in whether this should be considered a character defect or not. I simply hate gossiping with strangers and I don’t want to listen to their business. I never have and I never will. It disgusts me. Even my own flesh and blood saps my vitality—particularly you. You seem to have developed such a slow and gloomy way of walking lately … not at all becoming to a girl. Don’t you think you could correct your walk?

  MOLLY I’m trying. I’m trying to correct it.

  GERTRUDE I’m thinking seriously of marrying Mr. Solares, after all. I would at least have a life free of financial worry if I did, and I’m sure I could gradually ease his sister, Mrs. Lopez, out of the house because she certainly gets on my nerves. He’s a manageable man and Spanish men aren’t around the house much, which is a blessing. They’re always out … not getting intoxicated or having a wild time … just out … sitting around with bunches of other men … Spanish men … Cubans, Mexicans … I don’t know … They’re all alike, drinking little cups of coffee and jabbering away to each other for hours on end. That was your father’s life anyway. I minded then. I minded terribly, not so much because he left me alone, but he wasn’t in his office for more than a few hours a day … and he wasn’t rich enough, not like Mr. Solares. I lectured him in the beginning. I lectured him on ambition, on making contacts, on developing his personality. Often at night I was quite hoarse. I worked on him steadily, trying to make him worry about sugar. I warned him he was letting his father’s interests go to pot. Nothing helped. He refused to worry about sugar; he refused to worry about anything. (She knits a moment in silence) I lost interest finally. I lost interest in sugar … in him. I lost interest in our life together. I wanted to give it all up … start out fresh, but I couldn’t. I was carrying you. I had no choice. All my hopes were wrapped up in you then, all of them. You were my reason for going on, my one and only hope … my love. (She knits furiously. Then, craning her neck to look in the summer house, she gets up and goes to the rail) Are you asleep in there, or are you reading comic strips?

  MOLLY I’m not asleep.

  GERTRUDE Sometimes I have the strangest feeling about you. It frightens me … I feel that you are plotting something. Especially when you get inside that summer house. I think your black hair helps me to feel that way. Whenever I think of a woman going wild, I always picture her with black hair, never blond or red. I know that what I’m saying has no connection with a scientific truth. It’s very personal. They say red-haired women go wild a lot but I never picture it that way. Do you?

  MOLLY I don’t guess I’ve ever pictured women going wild.

  GERTRUDE And why not? They do all the time. They break the bonds … Sometimes I picture little scenes where they turn evil like wolves … (Shuddering) I don’t choose to, but I do all the same.

  MOLLY I’ve never seen a wild woman.

  GERTRUDE (Music) On the other hand, sometimes I wake up at night with a strange feeling of isolation … as if I’d fallen off the cliffs and landed miles away from everything that was close to my heart … Even my griefs and my sorrows don’t seem to belong to me. Nothing does—as if a shadow had passed over my whole life and made it dark. I try saying my name aloud, over and over again, but it doesn’t hook things together. Whenever I feel that way I put my wrapper on and I go down into the kitchen. I open the ice chest and take out some fizzy water. Then I sit at the table with the light switched on and by and by I feel all right again. (The music fades. Then in a more matter-of-fact tone) There is no doubt that each one of us has to put up with a shadow or two as he grows older. But if we occupy ourselves while the shadow passes, it passes swiftly enough and scarcely leaves a trace of our daily lives … (She knits for a moment. Then looks up the road) The girl who is coming here this afternoon is about seventeen. She should be arriving pretty soon. I also think that Mr. Solares will be arriving shortly and that he’ll be bringing one of his hot picnic luncheons with him today. I can feel it in my bones. It’s disgraceful of me, really, to allow him to feed us on our own lawn, but then, their mouths count up to six, while ours count up to only two. So actually it’s only half a disgrace. I hope Mr. Solares realizes that. Besides, I might be driven to accepting his marriage offer and then the chicken would be in the same pot anyway. Don’t you agree?

  MOLLY Yes.

  GERTRUDE You don’t seem very interested in what I’m saying.

  MOLLY Well, I …

  GERTRUDE I think that you should be more of a conversationalist. You never express an opinion, nor do you seem to have an outlook. What on earth is your outlook?

  MOLLY (Uncertainly) Democracy …

  GERTRUDE I don’t think you feel very strongly about it. You don’t listen to the various commentators, nor do you ever glance at the newspapers. It’s very easy to say that one is democratic, but that doesn’t prevent one from being a slob if one is a slob. I’ve never permitted myself to become a slob, even though I sit home all the time and avoid the outside world as much as possible. I’ve never liked going out any more than my father did. He always avoided the outside world. He hated a lot of idle gossip and had no use for people anyway. “Let the world do its dancing and its drinking and its interkilling without me,” he always said. “They’ll manage perfectly well; I’ll stick to myself and my work.” (The music comes up again and she is lost in a dream) When I was a little girl I made up my mind that I was going to be just like him. He was my model, my ideal. I admired him more than anyone on earth. And he admired me of course. I was so much like him—ambitious, defiant, a fighting cock always. I worshipped him. But I was never meek, not like Ellen my sister. She was very frail and delicate. My father used to put his arms around her, and play with her hair, long golden curls … Ellen was the weak one. That’s why he spoiled her. He pitied Ellen. (With wonder, and very delicately, as if afraid to break a spell. The music expresses the sorrow she is hiding from herself) Once he took her out of school, when she was ten years old. He bought her a little fur hat and they went away together for two whole weeks. I was left behind. I had no reason to leave school. I was healthy and strong. He took her to a big hotel on the edge of a lake. The lake was frozen, and they sat in the sunshine all day long, watching the people skate. When they came back he said, “Look at her, look at Ellen. She has roses in her cheeks.” He pitied Ellen, but he was proud of me. I was his true love. He never showed it … He was so frightened Ellen would guess. He didn’t want her to be jealous, but I knew the truth … He didn’t have to show it. He didn’t have to say anything. (The music fades and she knits furiously, coming back to the present) Why don’t you go inside and clean up? It might sharpen your wits. Go and change that rumpled dress.

  MOLLY (MOLLY comes out of the summer house and sniffs a blossom) The honeysuckle’s beginning to smell real good. I can never remember when you planted this vine, but it’s sure getting thick. It makes the summer house so nice and shady inside.

  GERTRUDE (Stiffening in anger) I told you never to menti
on that vine again. You know it was there when we bought this house. You love to call my attention to that wretched vine because it’s the only thing that grows well in the garden and you know it was planted by the people who came here before us and not by me at all. (She rises and paces the balcony) You’re mocking me for being such a failure in the garden and not being able to make things grow. That’s an underhanded Spanish trait of yours you inherit from your father. You love to mock me.

  MOLLY (Tenderly) I would never mock you.

  GERTRUDE (Working herself up) I thought I’d find peace here … with these waving palms and the ocean stretching as far as the eye can see, but you don’t like the ocean … You won’t even go in the water. You’re afraid to swim … I thought we’d found a paradise at last—the perfect place—but you don’t want paradise … You want hell. Well, go into your little house and rot if you like … I don’t care. Go on in while you still can. It won’t be there much longer … I’ll marry Mr. Solares and send you to business school. (The voices of MR. SOLARES and his family arriving with a picnic lunch stop her. She leans over the railing of the balcony and looks up the road) Oh, here they come with their covered pots. I knew they’d appear with a picnic luncheon today. I could feel it in my bones. We’ll put our own luncheon away for supper and have our supper tomorrow for lunch … Go and change … Quickly … Watch that walk. (MOLLY exits into the house. GERTRUDE settles down in her chair to prepare for MR. SOLARES’ arrival) I wish they weren’t coming. I’d rather be here by myself really. (Enter Spanish people) Nature’s the best company of all. (She pats her bun and rearranges some hairpins. Then she stands up and waves to her guests, cupping her mouth and yelling at the same time) Hello there!

  (In another moment MR. SOLARES, MRS. LOPEZ and her daughter, FREDERICA, and the three servants enter, walking in single file down the lane. Two of the servants are old hags and the third is a young half caste, ESPERANZA, in mulberry-colored satin. The servants all carry pots wrapped with bright bandanas.)

  MR. SOLARES (He wears a dark dusty suit. Pushing ahead of his sister, MRS. LOPEZ, in his haste to greet GERTRUDE and thus squeezing his sister’s arm rather painfully against the gate post) Hello, Miss Eastman Cuevas! (MRS. LOPEZ squeals with pain and rubs her arm. She is fat and middle-aged. She wears a black picture hat and black city dress. Her hat is decorated with flowers, MR. SOLARES speaks with a trace of an accent, having lived for many years in this country. Grinning and bobbing around) We brought you a picnic. For you and your daughter. Plenty of everything! You come down into the garden.

  (The others crowd slowly through the gate and stand awkwardly in a bunch looking up at GERTRUDE.)

  GERTRUDE (Perfunctorily) I think I’ll stay here on the balcony, thank you. Just spread yourselves on the lawn and we’ll talk back and forth this way. It’s all the same. (To the maids) You can hand me up my food by stepping on that little stump and I’ll lean over and get it.

  MRS. LOPEZ (Her accent is much thicker than her brother’s, smiling up at GERTRUDE) You will come down into the garden, Miss Eastman Cuevas?

  MR. SOLARES (Giving his sister a poke) Acaba de decirte que se queda arriba. ¿Ya no oyes? (The next few minutes on the stage have a considerable musical background. The hags and ESPERANZA start spreading bandanas on the lawn and emptying the baskets. The others settle on the lawn. ESPERANZA and the hags sing a raucous song as they work, the hags just joining in at the chorus and a bit off key. ESPERANZA brings over a pot wrapped in a Turkish towel and serves the family group. They all take enormous helpings of spaghetti. MR. SOLARES serves himself) Italian spaghetti with meat balls! Esperanza, serve a big plate to Miss Eastman Cuevas up on the porch. You climb on that.

  (He points to a fake stump with a gnome carved on one side of it.)

  ESPERANZA (Disagreeably) ¡Caramba!

  (She climbs up on the stump after filling a plate with spaghetti and hands it to GERTRUDE, releasing her hold on the plate before GERTRUDE has secured her own grip. ESPERANZA jumps out of the way immediately and the plate swings downward under the weight of the food, dumping the spaghetti on MRS. LOPEZ’ head.)

  GERTRUDE Oh! (To ESPERANZA) You didn’t give me a chance to get a firm hold on it!

  MR. SOLARES ¡Silencio!

  (ESPERANZA rushes over to the hags and all three of them become hysterical with laughter. After their hysterics they pull themselves together and go over to clean up MRS. LOPEZ and to restore GERTRUDE’S plate to her filled with fresh spaghetti. They return to their side of the garden in a far corner and everyone starts to eat.)

  MR. SOLARES (To GERTRUDE) Miss Eastman Cuevas, you like chop suey?

  GERTRUDE I have never eaten any.

  MRS. LOPEZ (Eager to get into the conversation and expressing great wonder in her voice) Chop suey? What is it?

  MR. SOLARES (In a mean voice to MRS. LOPEZ) You know what it is. (In Spanish) Que me dejes hablar con la señora Eastman Cuevas por favor. (To GERTRUDE) I’ll bring you some chop suey tomorrow in a box, or maybe we better go out to a restaurant, to a dining and dancing. Maybe you would go to try out some chop suey … Would you?

  GERTRUDE (Coolly) That’s very nice of you but I’ve told you before that I don’t care for the type of excitement you get when you go out … You know what I mean—entertainment, dancing, etc. Why don’t you describe chop suey to me and I’ll try and imagine it? (MRS. LOPEZ roars with laughter for no apparent reason. GERTRUDE cranes her neck and looks down at her over the balcony with raised eyebrows) I could die content without ever setting foot in another restaurant. Frankly, I would not care if every single one of them burned to the ground. I really love to sit on my porch and look out over the ocean.

  MRS. LOPEZ You like the ocean?

  GERTRUDE I love it!

  MRS. LOPEZ (Making a wild gesture with her arm) I hate it!

  GERTRUDE I love it. It’s majestic …

  MRS. LOPEZ I hate!

  GERTRUDE (Freezing up) I see that we don’t agree.

  MR. SOLARES (Scowling at MRS. LOPEZ) Oh, she loves the ocean. I don’t know what the hell is the matter with her today. (GERTRUDE winces at his language) Myself, I like ocean, land, mountain, all kinds of food, chop suey, chile, eel, turtle steak … Everything. Solares like everything. (In hideous French accent) Joie de vivre!

  (He snaps his fingers in the air.)

  GERTRUDE (Sucking some long strands of spaghetti into her mouth) What is your attitude toward your business?

  MR. SOLARES (Happily) My business is dandy.

  GERTRUDE (Irritably) Yes, but what is your attitude toward it?

  MR. SOLARES (With his mouth full) O.K.

  GERTRUDE Please try to concentrate on my question, Mr. Solares. Do you like business or do you really prefer to stay home and lazy around?

  MRS. LOPEZ (Effusively) He don’t like no business—he likes to stay home and sleep—and eat. (Then in a mocking tone intended to impress MR. SOLARES himself) “Fula, I got headache … I got bellyache … I stay home, no?” (She jabs her brother in the ribs with her elbow several times rolling her eyes in a teasing manner and repeats) “Fula, I got headache … I got bellyache … I stay home, no?”

  (She jabs him once again even harder and laughs way down in her throat.)

  MR. SOLARES ¡Fula! Esta es la última vez que sales conmigo. Ya, déjame hablar con la señora Eastman Cuevas!

  MRS. LOPEZ Look, Miss Eastman Cuevas?

  GERTRUDE (Looking disagreeably surprised) Yes?

  MRS. LOPEZ You like to talk to me?

  GERTRUDE (As coolly as possible short of sounding rude) Yes, I enjoy it.

  MRS. LOPEZ (Triumphantly to MR. SOLARES) Miss Eastman Cuevas like talk to me, so you shut your mouth. He don’t want no one to talk to you, Miss Eastman Cuevas because he think he gonna marry you.

  (FREDERICA doubles over and buries her face in her hands. Her skinny shoulders shake with laughter.)

  MR. SOLARES (Embarrassed and furious) Bring the chicken and rice, Esperanza.

  ESPERANZA You ain’t
finished what you got!

  MR. SOLARES Cállate, y tráigame el arroz con pollo.

  (ESPERANZA walks across the lawn with the second pot wrapped in a Turkish towel. She walks deliberately at a very slow pace, throwing a hip out at each step, and with a terrible sneer on her face. She serves them all chicken and rice, first removing the spaghetti plates and giving them clean ones. Everyone takes enormous helpings again, with the exception of GERTRUDE who refuses to have any.)

  GERTRUDE (While ESPERANZA serves the others) If Molly doesn’t come out soon she will simply have to miss her lunch. It’s very tiring to have to keep reminding her of the time and the other realities of life. Molly is a dreamer.

  MRS. LOPEZ (Nodding) That’s right.

  GERTRUDE (Watching FREDERICA serve herself) Do you people always eat such a big midday meal? Molly and I are in the habit of eating simple salads at noon.

  MRS. LOPEZ (Wiping her mouth roughly with her napkin. Then without pausing and with gusto) For breakfast: chocolate and sugar bread: for lunch: soup, beans, eggs, rice, roast pork with potatoes and guava paste … (She pulls on a different finger for each separate item) Next day: soup, eggs, beans, rice, chicken with rice and guava paste—other day: soup, eggs, beans, rice, stew meat, roasted baby pig and guava paste. Other day: soup, rice, beans, grilled red snapper, roasted goat meat and guava paste.

  FREDERICA (Speaking for the first time, rapidly, in a scarcely audible voice) Soup, rice, beans, eggs, ground-up meat and guava paste.

  GERTRUDE (Wearily) We usually have a simple salad.

  MR. SOLARES She’s talkin’ about the old Spanish custom. She only come here ten years ago when her old man died. I don’t like a big lunch neither. (In a sudden burst of temerity) Listen, what my sister said was true. I hope I am gonna marry you some day soon. I’ve told you so before. You remember?

  MRS. LOPEZ (Laughing and whispering to FREDERICA, who goes off into hysterics, and then delving into a shopping bag which lies beside her on the grass. In a very gay voice) This is what you gonna get if you make a wedding. (She pulls out a paper bag and hurls it at GERTRUDE’S head with the gesture of a baseball pitcher. The bag splits and spills rice all over GERTRUDE. There is general hilarity and even a bit of singing on the part of ESPERANZA and the hags. MR. LOPEZ yells above the noise) Rice!