The Giant's House
Page 27
Sometimes I try to pull myself into my body. Sometimes I can, I can even feel my self unscrolling from my head down, to my shoulders, my chest, down to my hips, and I try to hold it. It’s a physical, definite sensation. But it’s as if my self is a stubborn window shade. The minute I loosen my grip, it goes snapping back up, leaving only the faintest wind.
I live in my head and my hands, the mouth that kissed James and the hands that held him. Plenty of space.
I take walks in town with Dotty on her summer visits. We are bold, a scandalous woman with definite proof of scandal, my definite Dotty. The tourists look at us and I see them forming certain questions. But there are some things even a tourist won’t put into words.
“I want to tell you about somebody,” I say, and they listen. They send me postcards addressed to Mrs. James Carlson Sweatt. When I write back, I sign my letters the same way. It’s the first posthumous marriage in history, a true, real marriage. Don’t doubt that.
They talk about me in this town. I have passed into legend, even though I’m still around in the flesh. Who would have thought? people say to each other. Now, when I walk past the windows of the library, into stores, along the beach, I am discussed. I know the sound; I heard it enough with James. See that woman? they say.
I am a figure they imagine knocking on their doors, to test them. They don’t know what they should do to pass the test: let me in to sit by the radiator, or send me down the sidewalk to bewitch another house. They anticipate me at any moment, thrilled with the possibilities.
for Robert Sidney Phelps
a giant of a friend
My thanks to the following good readers: Karen Bender, Kermit Cole, Bruce Holbert, Max Phillips, Robert Siegel. Ann Patchett’s ability to read and reread this manuscript probably qualifies her for sainthood or psychiatric evaluation. Thanks also to Henry Dunow, Kathleen Jayes, and Susan Kamil. Thanks for various types of support and inspiration to: the MacDowell Colony; The Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown; the staff of the Somerville Public Library; the reference staff of Van Pelt Library, University of Pennsylvania; Sam, Natalie, and Harry McCracken; and Elizabeth Perowsky.
Also by Elizabeth McCracken
Niagara Falls All Over Again
Here’s Your Hat, What’s Your Hurry
About the Author
Elizabeth McCracken is the recipient of the Harold Vursell Award from the American Academy of Arts and Letters and the PEN/Winship Award. She has received grants from the Guggenheim Foundation, the Michener Foundation, the Fine Arts Center in Provincetown, and the National Endowment for the Arts. She was also honored as one of Granta’s 20 Best Writers Under 40.