East of Eden

by John Steinbeck

"Funny? No, it isn't funny."

  "I mean, a will is a strange present. But it means more than that. Now you are my real daughter I can tell you. I--no, we--have cash and securities in excess of sixty thousand dollars. In my desk are notations of accounts and safe-deposit boxes. I sold the place in Sacramento for a very good price. Why are you so silent, child? Is something bothering you?"

  "A will sounds like death. That's thrown a pall."

  "But everyone should make a will."

  "I know, Mother." Kate smiled ruefully. "A thought crossed my mind. I thought of all your kin coming in angrily to break such a will as this. You can't do this."

  "My poor little girl, is that what's bothering you? I have no folks. As far as I know I have no kin. And if I did have some--who would know? Do you think you are the only one with secrets? Do you think I use the name I was born with?"

  Kate looked long and levelly at Faye.

  "Kate," she cried, "Kate, it's a party. Don't be sad! Don't be frozen!"

  Kate got up, gently pulled the table aside, and sat down on the floor. She put her cheek on Faye's knee. Her slender fingers traced a gold thread on the skirt through its intricate leaf pattern. And Faye stroked Kate's cheek and hair and touched her strange ears. Shyly Faye's fingers explored to the borders of the scar.

  "I think I've never been so happy before," said Kate.

  "My darling. You make me happy too. Happier than I have ever been. Now I don't feel alone. Now I feel safe."

  Kate picked delicately at the gold thread with her fingernails.

  They sat in the warmth for a long time before Faye stirred. "Kate," she said, "we're forgetting. It's a party. We've forgotten the wine. Pour it, child. We'll have a little celebration."

  Kate said uneasily, "Do we need it, Mother?"

  "It's good. Why not? I like to take on a little load. It lets the poison out. Don't you like champagne, Kate?"

  "Well, I never have drunk much, it's not good for me."

  "Nonsense. Pour it, darling."

  Kate got up from the floor and filled the glasses.

  Faye said, "Now drink it down. I'm watching you. You're not going to let an old woman get silly by herself."

  "You're not an old woman, Mother."

  "Don't talk--drink it. I won't touch mine until yours is empty." She held her glass until Kate had emptied hers, then gulped it. "Good, that's good," she said. "Fill them up. Now, come on dear--down the rat hole. After two or three the bad things go away."

  Kate's chemistry screamed against the wine. She remembered, and she was afraid.

  Faye said, "Now let me see the bottom, child--there. You see how good it is? Fill up again."

  The transition came to Kate almost immediately after the second glass. Her fear evaporated, her fear of anything disappeared. This was what she had been afraid of, and now it was too late. The wine had forced a passage through all the carefully built barriers and defenses and deceptions, and she didn't care. The thing she had learned to cover and control was lost. Her voice became chill and her mouth was thin. Her wide-set eyes slitted and grew watchful and sardonic.

  "Now you drink--Mother--while I watch," she said. "There's a--dear. I'll bet you can't drink two without stopping."

  "Don't bet me, Kate. You'd lose. I can drink six without stopping."

  "Let me see you."

  "If I do, will you?"

  "Of course."

  The contest started, and a puddle of wine spread out over the tabletop and the wine went down in the magnum.

  Faye giggled. "When I was a girl--I could tell you stories maybe you wouldn't believe."

  Kate said, "I could tell stories nobody would believe."

  "You? Don't be silly. You're a child."

  Kate laughed. "You never saw such a child. This is a child--yes--a child!" She laughed with a thin penetrating shriek.

  The sound got through the wine that was muffling Faye. She centered her eyes on Kate. "You look so strange," she said. "I guess it's the lamplight. You look different."

  "I am different."

  "Call me 'Mother,' dear."

  "Mother--dear."

  "Kate, we're going to have such a good life."

  "You bet we are. You don't even know. You don't know."

  "I've always wanted to go to Europe. We could get on a ship and have nice clothes--dresses from Paris."

  "Maybe we'll do that--but not now."

  "Why not, Kate? I have plenty of money."

  "We'll have plenty more."

  Faye spoke pleadingly, "Why don't we go now? We could sell the house. With the business we've got, we could get maybe ten thousand dollars for it."

  "No."

  "What do you mean, no? It's my house. I can sell it."

  "Did you forget I'm your daughter?"

  "I don't like your tone, Kate. What's the matter with you? Is there any more wine?"

  "Sure, there's a little. Look at it through the bottle. Here, drink it out of the bottle. That's right--Mother--spill it down your neck. Get it in under your corset, Mother, against your fat stomach."

  Faye wailed, "Kate, don't be mean! We were feeling so nice. What do you want to go and spoil it for?"

  Kate wrenched the bottle from her hand. "Here, give me that." She tipped it up and drained it and dropped it on the floor. Her face was sharp and her eyes glinted. The lips of her little mouth were parted to show her small sharp teeth, and the canines were longer and more pointed than the others. She laughed softly. "Mother--dear Mother--I'm going to show you how to run a whorehouse. We'll fix the gray slugs that come in here and dump their nasty little loads--for a dollar. We'll give them pleasure, Mother dear."

  Faye said sharply. "Kate, you're drunk. I don't know what you're talking about."

  "You don't, Mother dear? Do you want me to tell you?"

  "I want you to be sweet. I want you to be like you were."

  "Well, it's too late. I didn't want to drink the wine. But you, you nasty fat worm, you made me. I'm your dear, sweet daughter--don't you remember? Well, I remember how surprised you were that I had regulars. Do you think I'll give them up? Do you think they give me a mean little dollar in quarters? No, they give me ten dollars, and the price is going up all the time. They can't go to anybody else. Nobody else is any good for them."

  Faye wept like a child. "Kate," she said, "don't talk like that. You're not like that. You're not like that."

  "Dear Mother, sweet fat Mother, take down the pants of one of my regulars. Look at the heelmarks on the groin--very pretty. And the little cuts that bleed for a long time. Oh, Mother dear, I've got the sweetest set of razors all in a case--and so sharp, so sharp."

  Faye struggled to get out of her chair. Kate pushed her back. "And do you know, Mother dear, that's the way this whole house is going to be. The price will be twenty dollars, and we'll make the bastards take a bath. We'll catch the blood on white silk handkerchiefs--Mother dear--blood from the little knotted whips."

  In her chair Faye began to scream hoarsely. Kate was on her instantly with a hard hand cupped over her mouth. "Don't make a noise. There's a good darling. Get snot all over your daughter's hand--but no noise." Tentatively she took her hand away and wiped it on Faye's skirt.

  Faye whispered, "I want you out of the house. I want you out. I run a good house without nastiness. I want you out."

  "I can't go, Mother. I can't leave you alone, poor dear." Her voice chilled. "Now I'm sick of you. Sick of you." She took a wineglass from the table, went to the bureau, and poured paregoric until the glass was half full. "Here, Mother, drink it. It will be good for you."

  "I don't want to."

  "There's a good dear. Drink it." She coaxed the fluid into Faye. "Now one more swallow--just one more."

  Faye mumbled thickly for a while and then she relaxed in her chair and slept, snoring thickly.

  3

  Dread began to gather in the corners of Kate's mind, and out of dread came panic. She remembered the other time and a nausea swept through her. She gr
ipped her hands together, and the panic grew. She lighted a candle from the lamp and went unsteadily down the dark hall to the kitchen. She poured dry mustard in a glass, stirred water into it until it was partly fluid, and drank it. She held on to the edge of the sink while the paste went burning down. She retched and strained again and again. At the end of it, her heart was pounding and she was weak--but the wine was overcome and her mind was clear.

  She went over the evening in her mind, moving from scene to scene like a sniffing animal. She bathed her face and washed out the sink and put the mustard back on the shelf. Then she went back to Faye's room.

  The dawn was coming, lighting up the back of Fremont's Peak so that it stood black against the sky. Faye was still snoring in her chair. Kate watched her for a few moments and then she fixed Faye's bed. Kate dragged and strained and lifted the dead weight of the sleeping woman. On the bed Kate undressed Faye and washed her face and put her clothes away.

  The day was coming fast. Kate sat beside the bed and watched the relaxed face, the mouth open, lips blowing in and out.

  Faye made a restless movement and her dry lips slobbered a few thick words and sighed off to a snore again.

  Kate's eyes become alert. She opened the top bureau drawer and examined the bottles which constituted the medicine chest of the house--paregoric, Pain Killer, Lydia Pinkham, iron wine tonic, Hall's Cream Salve, Epsom salts, castor oil, ammonia. She carried the ammonia bottle to the bed, saturated a handkerchief, and, standing well away, held the cloth over Faye's nose and mouth.

  The strangling, shocking fumes went in, and Faye came snorting and fighting out of her black web. Her eyes were wide and terrified.

  Kate said, "It's all right, Mother. It's all right. You had a nightmare. You had a bad dream."

  "Yes, a dream," and then sleep overcame her again and she fell back and began to snore, but the shock of the ammonia had lifted her up nearer consciousness and she was more restless. Kate put the bottle back in its drawer. She straightened the table, mopped up the spilled wine, and carried the glasses to the kitchen.

  The house was dusky with dawnlight creeping in around the edges of the blinds. The cook stirred in his lean-to behind the kitchen, groping for his clothes and putting on his clodhopper shoes.

  Kate moved quietly. She drank two glasses of water and filled the glass again and carried it back to Faye's room and closed the door. She lifted Faye's right eyelid, and the eye looked rakishly up at her but it was not rolled back in her head. Kate acted slowly and precisely. She picked up the handkerchief and smelled it. Some of the ammonia had evaporated but the smell was still sharp. She laid the cloth lightly over Faye's face, and when Faye twisted and turned and came near to waking, Kate took the handkerchief away and let Faye sink back. This she did three times. She put the handkerchief away and picked up an ivory crochet hook from the marble top of the bureau. She turned down the cover and pressed the blunt end of the ivory against Faye's flabby breast with a steady, increasing pressure until the sleeping woman whined and writhed. Then Kate explored the sensitive places of the body with the hook--under the arm, the groin, the ear, the clitoris, and always she removed the pressure just before Faye awakened fully.

  Faye was very near the surface now. She whined and sniffled and tossed. Kate stroked her forehead and ran smooth fingers over her inner arm and spoke softly to her.

  "Dear--dear. You're having a bad dream. Come out of the bad dream, Mother."

  Faye's breathing grew more regular. She heaved a great sigh and turned on her side and settled down with little grunts of comfort.

  Kate stood up from the bed and a wave of dizziness rose in her head. She steadied herself, then went to the door and listened, slipped out, and moved cautiously to her own room. She undressed quickly and put on her nightgown and a robe and slippers. She brushed her hair and put it up and covered it with a sleeping cap, and she sponged her face with Florida water. She went quietly back to Faye's room.

  Faye was still sleeping peacefully on her side. Kate opened the door to the hall. She carried the glass of water to the bed and poured cold water in Faye's ear.

  Faye screamed, and screamed again. Ethel's frightened face looked out of her room in time to see Kate in robe and slippers at Faye's door. The cook was right behind Kate, and he put out his hand to stop her.

  "Now don't go in there, Miss Kate. You don't know what's in there."

  "Nonsense, Faye's in trouble." Kate burst in and ran to the bed.

  Faye's eyes were wild and she was crying and moaning.

  "What is it? What is it, dear?"

  The cook was in the middle of the room, and three sleep-haggard girls stood in the doorway.

  "Tell me, what is it?" Kate cried.

  "Oh, darling--the dreams, the dreams! I can't stand them!"

  Kate turned to the door. "She's had a nightmare--she'll be all night. You go back to bed. I'll stay with her a while. Alex, bring a pot of tea."

  Kate was tireless. The other girls remarked on it. She put cold towels on Faye's aching head and held her shoulders and the cup of tea for her. She petted and babied her, but the look of horror would not go out of Faye's eyes. At ten o'clock Alex brought in a can of beer and without a word put it on the bureau top. Kate held a glass of it to Faye's lips.

  "It will help, darling. Drink it down."

  "I never want another drink."

  "Nonsense! Drink it down like medicine. That's a good girl. Now just lie back and go to sleep."

  "I'm afraid to sleep."

  "Were the dreams so bad?"

  "Horrible, horrible!"

  "Tell me about them, Mother. Maybe that will help."

  Faye shrank back. "I wouldn't tell anyone. How I could have dreamed them! They weren't like my dreams."

  "Poor little Mother! Ilove you," Kate said. "You go to sleep. I'll keep the dreams away."

  Gradually Faye did slip off to sleep. Kate sat beside the bed, studying her.

  Chapter 21

  1

  In human affairs of danger and delicacy successful conclusion is sharply limited by hurry. So often men trip by being in a rush. If one were properly to perform a difficult and subtle act, he should first inspect the end to be achieved and then, once he had accepted the end as desirable, he should forget it completely and concentrate solely on the means. By this method he would not be moved to false action by anxiety or hurry or fear. Very few people learn this.

  What made Kate so effective was the fact that she had either learned it or had been born with the knowledge. Kate never hurried. If a barrier arose, she waited until it had disappeared before continuing. She was capable of complete relaxation between the times for action. Also, she was mistress of a technique which is the basis of good wrestling--that of letting your opponent do the heavy work toward his own defeat, or of guiding his strength toward his weaknesses.

  Kate was in no hurry. She thought to the end very quickly and then put it out of her mind. She set herself to work on method. She built a structure and attacked it, and if it showed the slightest shakiness she tore it down and started fresh. This she did only late at night or otherwise when she was completely alone, so that no change or preoccupation was noticeable in her manner. Her building was constructed of personalities, materials, knowledge, and time. She had access to the first and last, and she set about getting knowledge and materials, but while she did that she set in motion a series of imperceptible springs and pendulums and left them to pick up their own momenta.

  First the cook told about the will. It must have been the cook. He thought he did anyway. Kate heard about it from Ethel, and she confronted him in the kitchen where he was kneading bread, his hairy big arms floured to the elbows and his hands yeast bleached.

  "Do you think it was a good thing to tell about being a witness?" she said mildly. "What do you think Miss Faye is going to think?"

  He looked confused. "But I didn't--"

  "You didn't what--tell about it or think it would hurt?"

  "I don't t
hink I--"

  "You don't think you told? Only three people knew. Do you think I told? Or do you think Miss Faye did?" She saw the puzzled look come into his eyes and knew that by now he was far from sure that he had not told. In a moment he would be sure that he had.

  Three of the girls questioned Kate about the will, coming to her together for mutual strength.

  Kate said, "I don't think Faye would like me to discuss it. Alex should have kept his mouth shut." Their wills wavered, and she said, "Why don't you ask Faye?"

  "Oh, we wouldn't do that!"

  "But you dare to talk behind her back! Come on now, let's go in to her and you can ask her the questions."

  "No, Kate, no."

  "Well, I'll have to tell her you asked. Wouldn't you rather be there? Don't you think she would feel better if she knew you weren't talking behind her back?"

  "Well--"

  "I know I would. I always like a person who comes right out." Quietly she surrounded and nudged and pushed until they stood in Faye's room.

  Kate said, "They asked me about a certain you-know-what. Alex admits he let it out."

  Faye was slightly puzzled. "Well, dear, I can't see that it's such a secret."

  Kate said, "Oh, I'm glad you feel that way. But you can see that I couldn't mention it until you did."

  "You think it's bad to tell, Kate?"

  "Oh, not at all. I'm glad, but it seemed to me that it wouldn't be loyal of me to mention it before you did."

  "You're sweet, Kate. I don't see any harm. You see, girls, I'm alone in the world and I have taken Kate as my daughter. She takes such care of me. Get the box, Kate."

  And each girl took the will in her own hands and inspected it. It was so simple they could repeat it word for word to the other girls.

  They watched Kate to see how she would change, perhaps become a tyrant, but if anything, she was nicer to them.

  A week later when Kate became ill, she went right on with her supervision of the house, and no one would have known if she hadn't been found standing rigid in the hall with agony printed on her face. She begged the girls not to tell Faye, but they were outraged, and it was Faye who forced her to bed and called Dr. Wilde.

  He was a nice man and a pretty good doctor. He looked at her tongue, felt her pulse, asked her a few intimate questions, and then tapped his lower lip.

  "Right here?" he asked and exerted a little pressure on the small of her back. "No? Here? Does this hurt? So. Well, I think you just need a kidney flushing." He left yellow, green, and red pills to be taken in sequence. The pills did good work.