by Jane Bowles
Mr. Copperfield chuckled. "You're so crazy," he said to her with indulgence. He was delighted to be in the Tropics at last and he was more than pleased with himself that he had managed to dissuade his wife from stopping at a ridiculously expensive hotel where they would have been surrounded by tourists. He realized that this hotel was sinister, but that was what he loved.
They followed the bellhop to one of the rooms, and no sooner had they arrived there than Mrs. Copperfield began pushing the door backwards and forwards. It opened both ways and could only be locked by means of a little hook.
"Anyone could break into this room," said Mrs. Copperfield.
"I dare say they could, but I don't think they would be very likely to, do you?" Mr. Copperfield made a point of never reassuring his wife. He gave her fears their just due. However, he did not insist, and they decided upon another room, with a stronger door.
Mrs. Copperfield was amazed at her husband's vivacity. He had washed and gone out to buy a papaya.
She lay on the bed thinking.
"Now," she said to herself, "when people believed in God they carried Him from one place to another. They carried Him through the jungles and across the Arctic Circle. God watched over everybody, and all men were brothers. Now there is nothing to carry with you from one place to another, and as far as I'm concerned, these people might as well be kangaroos; yet somehow there must be someone here who will remind me of something ... I must try to find a nest in this outlandish place."
Mrs. Copperfield's sole object in life was to be happy, although people who had observed her behavior over a period of years would have been surprised to discover that this was all.
She rose from her bed and pulled Miss Goering's present, a manicuring set, from her grip. "Memory," she whispered. "Memory of the things I have loved since I was a child. My husband is a man without memory." She felt intense pain at the thought of this man whom she liked above all other people, this man for whom each thing he had not yet known was a joy. For her, all that which was not already an old dream was an outrage. She got back on her bed and fell sound asleep.
When she awoke, Mr. Copperfield was standing near the foot of the bed eating a papaya.
"You must try some," he said. "It gives you lots of energy and-besides it's delicious. Won't you have some?" He looked at her shyly.
"Where have you been?" she asked him.
"Oh, walking through the streets. As a matter of fact, I've walked for miles. You should come out, really. It's a madhouse. The streets are full of soldiers and sailors and whores. The women are all in long dresses . . . incredibly cheap dresses.
They'll all talk to you. Come on out,"
They were walking through the streets arm in arm. Mrs. Copperfield's forehead was burning hot and her hands were cold. She felt something trembling in the pit of her stomach. When she looked ahead of her the very end of the street seemed to bend and then straighten out again. She told this to Mr. Copperfield and he explained that it was a result of their having so recently come off the boat. Above their heads the children were jumping up and down on the wooden porches and making the houses shake. Someone bumped against Mrs. Copperfield's shoulder and she was almost knocked over. At the same time she was very much aware of the strong and fragrant odor of rose perfume. The person who had collided with her was a Negress in a pink silk evening dress.
"I can't tell you how sorry I am. I can't tell you," she said to them. Then she looked around her vaguely and began to hum.
"I told you it was a madhouse," Mr. Copperfield said to his wife.
"Listen," said the Negress, "go down the next street and you'll like it better. I've got to meet my beau over at that bar." She pointed it out to them. "That's a beautiful barroom. Everyone goes in there," she said. She moved up closer and addressed herself solely to Mrs. Copperfield. "You come along with me, darling, and you'll have the happiest time you've ever had before. I'll be your type. Come on."
She took Mrs. Copperfield's hand in her own and started to drag her away from Mr. Copperfield. She was bigger than either of them.
"I don't believe that she wants to go to a bar just now," said Mr. Copperfield. "We'd like to explore the town awhile first."
The Negress caressed Mrs. Copperfield's face with the palm of her hand. "Is that what you want to do, darling, or do you want to come along with me?" A policeman stopped and stood a few feet away from them. The Negress released Mrs. Copperfield's hand and bounded across the street laughing.
"Wasn't that the strangest thing you've ever seen?" said Mrs. Copperfield, breathlessly.
"You better mind your own business," said the policeman. "Why don't you go over and look at the stores? Everybody walks along the streets where the stores are. Buy something for your uncle or your cousin."
"No, that's not what I want to do," said Mrs. Copperfield.
"Well, then, go to a movie," said the policeman, walking away.
Mr. Copperfield was hysterical with laughter. He had his handkerchief up to his mouth. "This is the sort of thing I love," he managed to say. They walked along farther and turned down another street. The sun was setting and the air was still and hot. On this street there were no balconies, only little one-story houses. In front of every door at least one woman was seated. Mrs. Copperfield walked up to the window of one house and looked in. The room inside was almost entirely filled by a large double bed with an extremely bumpy mattress over which was spread a lace throw. An electric bulb under a lavender chiffon lamp shade threw a garish light over the bed, and there was a fan stamped Panama City spread open on the pillow.
The woman seated in front of this particular house was rather old. She sat on a stool with her elbows resting on her knees, and it seemed to Mrs. Copperfield, who had now turned to look at her, that she was probably a West Indian type. She was flat-chested and raw-boned, with very muscular arms and shoulders. Her long disgruntled-looking face and part of her neck were carefully covered with a light-colored face powder, but her chest and arms remained dark. Mrs. Copperfield was amused to see that her dress was of lavender theatrical gauze. There was an attractive gray streak in her hair.
The Negress turned around, and when she saw that both Mr. and Mrs. Copperfield were watching her, she stood up and smoothed the folds of her dress. She was almost a giantess.
"Both of you for a dollar," she said.
"A dollar," Mrs. Copperfield repeated after her. Mr. Copperfield, who had been standing nearby at the curb, came closer to them.
"Frieda," he said, "let's walk down some more streets."
"Oh, please!" said Mrs. Copperfield. "Wait a minute."
"A dollar is the best price I can make," said the Negress.
"If you care to stay here," suggested Mr. Copperfield, "I'll walk around a bit and come back for you in a little while. Maybe you'd better have some money with you. Here is a dollar and thirty-five cents, just in case. . . ,"
"I want to talk to her," said Mrs. Copperfield, looking fixedly into space.
"I'll see you, then, in a few minutes. I'm restless," he announced, and he walked away.
"I love to be free," Mrs. Copperfield said to the woman after he had left. "Shall we go into your little room? I've been admiring it through the window. . . ."
Before she had finished her phrase the woman was pushing her through the door with both hands and they were inside the room. There was no rug on the floor, and the walls were bare. The only adornments were those which had been visible from the street. They sat down on the bed.
"I had a little gramophone in that corner over there," said the woman. "Someone who came off a ship lent it to me. His friend came and took it back."
"Te-ta-ta-tee-ta-ta," she said and tapped her heels for a few seconds. She took both Mrs. Copperfield's hands in her own and pulled her off the bed. "Come on now, honey." She hugged Mrs. Copperfield to her. "You're awful little and very sweet. You are sweet, and maybe you are lonesome." Mrs. Copperfield put her cheek on the woman's breast. The smell of the theatrical
gauze reminded her of her first part in a school play. She smiled up at the Negress, looking as tender and as gentle as she was able.
"What do you do in the afternoons?" she asked the woman.
"Play cards. Go to a movie. . . ."
Mrs. Copperfield stepped away from her. Her cheeks were flamed-red. They both listened to the people walking by. They could now hear every word that was being said outside the window. The Negress was frowning. She wore a look of deep concern.
"Time is gold, honey," she said to Mrs. Copperfield, "but maybe you're too young to realize that."
Mrs. Copperfield shook her head. She felt sad, looking at the Negress. "I'm thirsty,',' she said. Suddenly they heard a man's voice saying:
"You didn't expect to see me back so soon, Podie?" Then several girls laughed hysterically. The Negress's eyes came to life.
"Give me one dollar! Give me one dollar!" she screamed excitedly at Mrs. Copperfield. "You have stayed your time here anyway." Mrs. Copperfield hurriedly gave her a dollar and the Negress rushed out into the street. Mrs. Copperfield followed her.
In front of the house several girls were hanging onto a heavy man who was wearing a crushed linen suit. When he saw Mrs. Copperfield's Negress in the lavender dress, he broke away from the others and put his arms around her. The Negress rolled her eyes joyously and led him into the house without so much as nodding good-by to Mrs. Copperfield. Very shortly the others ran down the street and Mrs. Copperfield was left alone. People passed by on either side of her, but none of them interested her yet. On the other hand, she herself was of great interest to everyone, particularly to those women who were seated in front of their doors. She was soon accostcd by a girl with fuzzy hair.
"Buy me something, Momma," said the girl.
As Mrs. Copperfield did not answer but simply gave the girl a long sad look, the girl said:
"Momma, you can pick it out yourself. You can buy me even a feather, I don't care." Mrs. Copperfield shuddered. She thought she must be dreaming.
"What do you mean, a feather? What do you mean?"
The girl squirmed with delight.
"Oh, Momma," she said in a voice which broke in her throat. "Oh, Momma, you're funny! You're so funny. I don't know what is a feather, but anything you want with your heart, you know."
They walked down the street to a store and came out with a little box of face powder. The girl said good-by and disappeared round the corner with some friends. Once again Mrs. Copperfield was alone. The hacks went past filled with tourists, "Tourists, generally speaking," Mrs. Copperfield had written in her journal, "are human beings so impressed with the importance and immutability of their own manner of living that they are capable of traveling through the most fantastic places without experiencing anything more than a visual reaction. The hardier tourists find that one place resembles another."
Very soon Mr. Copperfield came back and joined her. "Did you have a wonderful time?" he asked her.
She shook her head and looked up at him. Suddenly she felt so tired that she began to cry.
"Cry-baby," said Mr. Copperfield.
Someone came up behind them. A low voice said: "She was lost?" They turned around to see an intelligent-looking girl with sharp features and curly hair standing right behind them. "I wouldn't leave her in the streets here if I were you," she said.
"She wasn't lost; she was just depressed," Mr. Copperfield explained.
"Would you think I was fresh if I asked you to come to a nice restaurant where we can all eat dinner?" asked the girl. She was really quite pretty.
"Let's go," said Mrs. Copperfield vehemently. "By all means." She was now excited; she had a feeling that this girl would be all right. Like most people, she never really believed that one terrible thing would happen after another.
The restaurant wasn't really nice. It was very dark and very long and there was no one in it at all.
"Wouldn't you rather eat somewhere else?" Mrs. Copperfield asked the girl.
"Oh no! I would never go anywhere else. I'll tell you if you are not angry. I can get a little bit of money here when I come and bring some people."
"Well, let me give you the money and we'll go somewhere else. I'll give you whatever he gives you," said Mrs. Copperfield.
"That's silly," said the girl. "That's very silly."
"I have heard there is a place in this city where we can order wonderful lobster. Couldn't we go there?" Mrs. Copperfield was pleading with the girl now.
"No—that's silly." She called a waiter who had just arrived with some newspapers under his arm.
"Adalberte, bring us some meat and some wine. Meat first." This she said in Spanish.
"How well you speak English!" said Mr. Copperfield.
"I always love to be with Americans when I can," said the girl.
"Do you think they're generous?" asked Mr. Copperfield.
"Oh, sure," said the girl. "Sure they're generous. They're generous when they have the money. They're even more generous when they've got their family with them, I once knew a man. He was an American man. A real one, and he was staying at the Hotel Washington. You know that's the most beautiful hotel in the world. In the afternoon every day his wife would take a siesta. He would come quickly in a taxicab to Colon and he was so excited and frightened that he would not get back to his wife on time that he would never take me into a room and so he would go with me instead to a store and he would say to me: 'Quick, quick—pick something—anything that you want, but be in a hurry about it."
"How terrifying!" said Mrs. Copperfield.
"It was terrible," said the Spanish girl. "I always went so crazy that once I was really crazy and I said to him: 'All right, I will buy this pipe for my uncle.' I don't like my uncle, but I had to give it to him."
Mr. Copperfield roared with laughter.
"Funny, isn't it?" said the girl. "I tell you if he ever comes back I will never buy another pipe for my uncle when he takes me to the store. She's not a bad-looker."
"Who?" asked Mr. Copperfield.
"Your wife."
"I look terrible tonight," said Mrs. Copperfield.
"Anyway it does not matter because you are married. You have nothing to worry about."
"She'll be furious with you if you tell her that," said Mr. Copperfield.
"Why will she be furious? That is the most beautiful thing in the whole world, not to have something to worry about."
"That is not what beauty is made of," interposed Mrs. Copperfield. "What has the absence of worry to do with beauty?"
"That has everything to do with what is beautiful in the world. When you wake up in the morning and the first minute you open your eyes and you don't know who you are or what your life has been—that is beautiful. Then when you know who you are and what day in your life it is and you still think you are sailing in the air like a happy bird—that is beautiful. That is, when you don't have any worries. You can't tell me you like to worry."
Mr. Copperfield simpered. After dinner he suddenly felt very tired and he suggested that they go home, but Mrs. Copperfield was much too nervous, so she asked the Spanish girl if she would not consent to spend a little more time in her company. The girl said that she would if Mrs. Copperfield did not mind returning with her to the hotel where she lived.
They said good-by to Mr. Copperfield and started on their way.
The walls of the Hotel de las Palmas were wooden and painted a bright green. There were a good many bird-cages standing in the halls and hanging from the ceilings. Some of them were empty. The girl's room was on the second floor and had brightly painted wooden walls the same as the corridors.
"Those birds sing all day long," said the girl, motioning to Mrs. Copperfield to sit down on the bed beside her. "Sometimes I say to myself: 'Little fools, what are you singing about in your cages?' And then I think: 'Pacifica, you are just as much a fool as those birds. You are also in a cage because you don't have any money. Last night you were laughing for three hours with a German man becau
se he had given you some drinks. And you thought he was stupid.' I laugh in my cage and they sing in their cage."
"Oh well," said Mrs. Copperfield, "there really is no rapport between ourselves and birds."
"You don't think it is true?" asked Pacifica with feeling. "I tell you it is true."
She pulled her dress over her head and stood before Mrs. Copperfield in her underslip.
"Tell me," she said, "What do you think of those beautiful silk kimonos that the Hindu men sell in their shops? If I were with such a rich husband I would tell him to buy me one of those kimonos. You don't know how lucky you are. I would go with him every day to the stores and make him buy me pretty things instead of standing around and crying like a little baby. Men don't like to see women cry. You think they like to see women cry?"
Mrs. Copperfield shrugged her shoulders. "I can't think," she said.
"You're right. They like to see women laugh. Women have got to laugh all night. You watch some pretty girl one time. When she laughs she is ten years older. That is because she does it so much. You are ten years older when you laugh."
"True," said Mrs. Copperfield.
"Don't feel bad," said Pacifica. "I like women very much, I like women sometimes better than men. I like my grandmother and my mother and my sisters. We always had a good time together, the women in my house. I was always the best one. I was the smartest one and the one who did the most work. Now I wish I was back there in my nice house, contented. But I still want too many things, you know. I am lazy but I have a terrible temper too. I like these men that I meet very much. Sometimes they tell me what they will do in their future life when they get off the boat. I always wish for them that it will happen very soon. The damn boats. When they tell me they just want to go around the world all their life on a boat I tell them: 'You don't know what you're missing, I'm through with you, boy.' I don't like them when they are like that. But now I am in love with this nice man who is here in business. Most of the time he can pay my rent for me. Not always every week. He is very happy to have me. Most of the men are very happy to have me. I don't hold my head too high for that. It's from God that it comes." Pacifica crossed herself.
