Two Serious Ladies

by Jane Bowles

  They ran to the house and up the back stairway that led to the tower. It was hot in the tower room because all the windows had been shut. Christina suddenly felt very ill.

  "Go," she said to Mary, "go into the bath and clean yourself off. I'm going to draw." She was deeply troubled. "It's over," she said to herself, "the game is over. I'll tell Mary to go home after she's dried off. I'll give her some colored pencils to take home with her."

  Mary returned from the bath wrapped in a towel. She was still shivering. Her hair was wet and straight. Her face looked smaller than it did ordinarily.

  Christina looked away from her. "The game is over," she said, "it took only a few minutes—you should be dried off— I'm going out." She walked out of the room leaving Mary behind, pulling the towel closer around her shoulders.

  As a grown woman Miss Goering was no better liked than she had been as a child. She was now living in her home outside New York, with her companion, Miss Gamelon.

  Three months ago Miss Goering had been sitting in the parlor, looking out at the leafless trees, when her maid announced a caller.

  "Is it a gentleman or a lady?" Miss Goering asked.

  "A lady."

  "Show her in immediately," said Miss Goering.

  The maid returned followed by the caller. Miss Goering rose from her seat. "How do you do?" she said. "I don't believe I've ever laid eyes on you before this moment, but please sit down."

  The lady visitor was small and stocky and appeared to be in her late thirties or early forties. She wore dark, unfashionable clothing and, but for her large gray eyes, her face might on all occasions have passed unnoticed.

  "I'm your governess's cousin," she said to Miss Goering. "She was with you for many years. Do you remember her?"

  "I do," said Miss Goering.

  "Well, my name is Lucie Gamelon. My cousin used to talk about you and about your sister Sophie all the time. I've been meaning to call on you for years now, but one thing and another always got in the way. But then, we never know it to fail."

  Miss Gamelon reddened. She had not yet been relieved of her hat and coat.

  "You have a lovely home," she said. "I guess you know it and appreciate it a lot."

  By this time Miss Goering was filled with curiosity concerning Miss Gamelon. "What's your business in life?" she asked her.

  "Not very much, I'm afraid. I've been typing manuscripts for famous authors all my life, but there doesn't seem to be much demand for authors any more unless maybe they are doing their own typing."

  Miss Goering, who was busy thinking, said nothing.

  Miss Gamelon looked around helplessly.

  "Do you stay here the greater portion of the time or do you travel mostly?" she asked Miss Goering unexpectedly.

  "I never thought of traveling," said Miss Goering. "I don't require travel."

  "Coming from the family you come from," said Miss Gamelon, "I guess you were born full of knowledge about everything. You wouldn't need to travel. I had opportunity to travel two or three times with my authors. They were willing to pay all my expenses and my full salary besides, but I never did go except once, and that was to Canada."

  "You don't like to travel," said Miss Goering, staring at her.

  "It doesn't agree with me, I tried it that once. My stomach was upset and I had nervous headaches all the time. That was enough. I had my warning."

  "I understand perfectly," said Miss Goering.

  "I always believe," continued Miss Gamelon, "that you get your warning. Some people don't heed their warnings. That's when they come into conflict. I think that anything you feel strange or nervous about, you weren't cut out to do."

  "Go on," said Miss Goering.

  "Well, I know, for instance, that I wasn't cut out to be an aviator. I've always had dreams of crashing down to the earth. There are quite a few things that I won't do, even if I am thought of as a stubborn mule. I won't cross a big body of water, for instance, I could have everything I wanted if I would just cross the ocean and go over to England, but I never will."

  "Well," said Miss Goering, "let's have some tea and some sandwiches."

  Miss Gamelon ate voraciously and complimented Miss Goering on her good food.

  "I like good things to eat," she said, "I don't have so much good food any more. I did when I was working for the authors."

  When they had finished tea, Miss Gamelon took leave of her hostess.

  "I've had a very sociable time," she said. "I would like to stay longer, but tonight I have promised a niece of mine that I would watch over her children for her. She is going to attend a ball."

  "You must be very depressed with the idea," said Miss Goering.

  "Yes, you're right," Miss Gamelon replied.

  "Do return soon," said Miss Goering.

  The following afternoon the maid announced to Miss Goering that she had a caller. "It's the same lady that called here yesterday," said the maid.

  "Well, well," thought Miss Goering, "that's good."

  "How are you feeling today?" Miss Gamelon asked her, coming into the room. She spoke very naturally, not appearing to find it strange that she was returning so soon after her first visit. "I was thinking about you all last night," she said. "It's a funny thing. I always thought I should meet you. My cousin used to tell me how queer you were. I think, though, that you can make friends more quickly with queer people. Or else you don't make friends with them at all—one way or the other. Many of my authors were very queer. In that way I've had an advantage of association that most people don't have. I know something about what I call real honest-to-God maniacs, too."

  Miss Goering invited Miss Gamelon to dine with her. She found her soothing and agreeable to be with. Miss Gamelon was very much impressed with the fact that Miss Goering was so nervous. Just as they were about to sit down, Miss Goering said that she couldn't face eating in the dining-room and she asked the servant to lay the table in the parlor instead. She spent a great deal of time switching the lights off and on.

  "I know how you feel," Miss Gamelon said to her.

  "I don't particularly enjoy it," said Miss Goering, "but I expect in the future to be under control."

  Over wine at dinner Miss Gamelon told Miss Goering that it was only correct that she should be thus. "What do you expect, dear," she said, "coming from the kind of family you come from? You're all tuned high, all of you. You've got to allow yourself things that other people haven't any right to allow themselves."

  Miss Goering began to feel a little tipsy. She looked dreamily at Miss Gamelon, who was eating her second helping of chicken cooked in wine. There was a little spot of grease in the corner of her mouth.

  "I love to drink," said Miss Gamelon, "but there isn't much point to it when you have to work. It's fine enough when you have plenty of leisure time. I have a lot of leisure time now."

  "Have you a guardian angel?" asked Miss Goering.

  "Well, I have a dead aunt, maybe that's what you mean; she might be watching over me."

  "That is not what I mean—I mean something quite different,"

  "Well, of course . . ." said Miss Gamelon.

  "A guardian angel comes when you are very young, and gives you special dispensation."

  "From what?"

  "From the world. Yours might be luck; mine is money. Most people have a guardian angel; that's why they move slowly."

  "That's an imaginative way of talking about guardian angels. I guess my guardian angel is what I told you about heeding my warnings. I think maybe she could warn me about both of us. In that way I could keep you out of trouble. Of course, with your consent," she added, looking a little confused.

  Miss Goering had a definite feeling at that moment that Miss Gamelon was not in the least a nice woman, but she refused to face this because she got too much enjoyment from the sensation of being nursed and pampered. She told herself that it would do no harm for a little while.

  "Miss Gamelon," said Miss Goering, "I think it would be a very fine idea if
you were to make this your home—for the time being, at least. I don't think you have any pressing business that would oblige you to remain elsewhere, have you?"

  "No, I haven't any business," said Miss Gamelon. "I don't see why I couldn't stay here—I'd have to get my things at my sister's house. Outside of that I don't know of anything else."

  "What things?" asked Miss Goering impatiently. "Don't go back at all. We can get things at the stores." She got up and walked quickly up and down the room.

  "Well," said Miss Gamelon, "I think I had better get my things."

  "But not tonight," said Miss Goering, "tomorrow—tomorrow in the car."

  "Tomorrow in the car," repeated Miss Gamelon after her.

  Miss Goering made arrangements to give Miss Gamelon a room near her own, to which she led her shortly after dinner was over.

  "This room," said Miss Goering, "has one of the finest views in the entire house." She drew the curtains apart. "You've got your moon and your stars tonight, Miss Gamelon, and a very nice silhouette of trees against the sky."

  Miss Gamelon was standing in semi-darkness near the dressing-table. She was fingering the brooch on her blouse. She wished that Miss Goering would leave so that she could think about the house and Miss Goering's offer, in her own way.

  There was a sudden scrambling in the bushes below the window. Miss Goering jumped.

  "What's that?" Her face was very white and she put her hand to her forehead. "My heart hurts so for such a long time afterwards whenever I'm frightened," she said in a small voice.

  "I think I'd better go to bed now and go to sleep," said Miss Gamelon. She was suddenly overcome by all the wine that she had drunk, Miss Goering took her leave reluctantly. She had been prepared to talk half the night. The following morning Miss Gamelon went home to collect her things and give her sister her new address.

  Three months later Miss Goering knew little more about Miss Gamelon's ideas than she had on the first night that they had dined together. She had learned quite a lot about Miss Gamelon's personal characteristics, however, through careful observation. When Miss Gamelon had first arrived she had spoken a great deal about her love of luxury and beautiful objects, but Miss Goering had since then taken her on innumerable shopping trips; and she had never seemed interested in anything more than the simplest necessities.

  She was quiet, even a little sullen, but she seemed to be fairly contented. She enjoyed dining out at large, expensive restaurants, particularly if dinner music accompanied the meal. She did not seem to like the theater. Very often Miss Goering would buy tickets for a play, and at the last moment Miss Gamelon would decline to go.

  "I feel so lazy," she would say, "that bed seems to be the most beautiful thing in the world at this moment."

  When she did go to the theater, she was easily bored. Whenever the action of the play was not swift, Miss Goering would catch her looking down into her lap and playing with her fingers.

  She seemed now to feel more violently about Miss Goering's activities than she did about her own, although she did not listen so sympathetically to Miss Goering's explanations of herself as she had in the beginning.

  On Wednesday afternoon Miss Gamelon and Miss Goering were sitting underneath the trees in front of the house. Miss Goering was drinking whisky and Miss Gamelon was reading. The maid came out and announced to Miss Goering that she was wanted on the telephone.

  The call was from Miss Goering's old friend Anna, who invited her to a party the following night. Miss Goering came back out on the lawn, very excited.

  "I'm going to a party tomorrow night," she said, "but I don't see how I can wait until then—I look forward to going to parties so much and I am invited to so few that I scarcely know how to behave about them. What will we do to make the hours pass until then?" She took both Miss Gamelon's hands in her own.

  It was getting a little chilly. Miss Goering shivered and smiled. "Do you enjoy our little life?" she asked Miss Gamelon.

  "I'm always content," said Miss Gamelon, "because I know what to take and what to leave, but you are always at the mercy."

  Miss Goering arrived at Anna's looking flushed and a little overdressed. She was wearing velvet and Miss Gamelon had fastened some flowers in her hair.

  The men, most of whom were middle-aged, were standing together in one corner of the room, smoking and listening to each other attentively. The ladies, freshly powdered, were seated around the room, talking very little. Anna seemed to be a little tense, although she was smiling. She wore a hostess gown adapted from a central European peasant costume.

  "You will have drinks in a minute," she announced to her guests, and then, seeing Miss Goering, she went over to her and led her to a chair next to Mrs. Copperfield's without saying a word.

  Mrs. Copperfield had a sharp little face and very dark hair. She was unusually small and thin. She was nervously rubbing her bare arms and looking around the room when Miss Goering seated herself in the chair beside her. They had met for many years at Anna's parties and they occasionally had tea with each other.

  "Oh! Christina Goering," cried Mrs. Copperfield, startled to see her friend suddenly seated beside her, "I'm going away!"

  "Do you mean," said Miss Goering, "that you are leaving this party?"

  "No, I am going on a trip. Wait until I tell you about it. It's terrible."

  Miss Goering noticed that Mrs. Copperfield's eyes were brighter than usual. "What is wrong, little Mrs. Copperfield?" she asked, rising from her seat and looking around the room with a bright smile on her face.

  "Oh, I'm sure," said Mrs. Copperfield, "that you wouldn't want to hear about it. You can't possibly have any respect for me, but that doesn't make any difference because I have the utmost respect for you. I heard my husband say that you had a religious nature one day, and we almost had a very bad fight. Of course he is crazy to say that. You are gloriously unpredictable and you are afraid of no one but yourself. I hate religion in other people."

  Miss Goering neglected to answer Mrs. Copperfield because for the last second or two she had been staring at a stout dark-haired man who was walking heavily across the room in their direction. As he came nearer, she saw that he had a pleasant face with wide jowls that protruded on either side but did not hang down as they do on most obese persons. He was dressed in a blue business suit.

  "May I sit beside you?" he asked them. "I have met this young lady before," he said, shaking hands with Mrs. Copperfield, "but I am afraid that I have not yet met her friend." He turned and nodded to Miss Goering.

  Mrs. Copperfield was so annoyed at the interruption that she neglected to introduce Miss Goering to the gentleman. He drew up a chair next to Miss Goering's and looked at her.

  "I have just come from a most wonderful dinner," he said to her, "moderate in price, but served with care and excellently prepared. If it would interest you I can write down the name of the little restaurant for you."

  He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a leather billfold. He found only one slip of paper which was not already covered with addresses.

  "I will write this down for you," he said to Miss Goering. "Undoubtedly you will be seeing Mrs. Copperfield and then you can pass the information on to her, or perhaps she can telephone to you."

  Miss Goering took the slip of paper in her hand and looked carefully at the writing.

  He had not written down the name of a restaurant at all; instead he had asked Miss Goering to consent to go home with him later to his apartment. This pleased her greatly as she was usually delighted to stay out as late as possible once she had left her home.

  She looked up at the man, whose face was now inscrutable. He sipped his drink with calm, and looked around the room like someone who has finally brought a business conversation to a close. However, there were some sweat beads on his forehead.

  Mrs. Copperfield stared at him with distaste, but Miss Goering's face suddenly brightened. "Let me tell you," she said to them, "about a strange experience I had this morning. S
it still, little Mrs. Copperfield, and listen to me." Mrs. Copperfield looked up at Miss Goering and took her friend's hand in her own.

  "I stayed in town with my sister Sophie last night," said Miss Goering, "and this morning I was standing in front of the window drinking a cup of coffee. The building next to Sophie's house is being torn down, I believe that they are intending to put an apartment house in its place. It was not only extremely windy this morning, but it was raining intermittently. From my window I could see into the rooms of this building, as the wall opposite me had already been torn down. The rooms were still partially furnished, and I stood looking at them, watching the rain spatter the wallpaper. The wallpaper was, flowered and already covered with dark spots, which were growing larger."

  "How amusing," said Mrs. Copperfield, "or perhaps it was depressing."

  "I finally felt rather sad watching this and I was about to go away when a man came into one of these rooms and, walking deliberately over to the bed, took up a coverlet which he folded under his arm. It was undoubtedly a personal possession which he had neglected to pack and had just now returned to fetch. Then he walked around the room aimlessly for a bit and finally he stood at the very edge of his room looking down into the yard with his arms akimbo. I could see him more clearly now, and I could easily tell that he was an artist. As he stood there, I was increasingly filled with horror, very much as though I were watching a scene in a nightmare."

  At this point Miss Goering suddenly stood up.

  "Did he jump, Miss Goering?" Mrs. Copperfield asked with feeling.

  "No, he remained there for quite a while looking down into the courtyard with an expression of pleasant curiosity on his face."

  "Amazing, Miss Goering," said Mrs. Copperfield. "I do think it's such an interesting story, really, but it has quite scared me out of my wits and I shouldn't enjoy hearing another one like it." She had scarcely finished her sentence when she heard her husband say:

  "We will go to Panama and linger there awhile before we penetrate into the interior." Mrs. Copperfield pressed Miss Goering's hand.