Had I a Hundred Mouths

by William Goyen

  Well, one time Little Pigeon and Sammye had a real frickus, all over the lost purse again, nobody could find it anywhere; and Sammye just couldn’t stand it any longer so just walked out the front door and went back to Rodunda, tired of it all. She stayed a few weeks, and no long distance calls came from Little Pigeon, no sound or sign of her; and Sammye said just let her stew and learn her lesson. Finally, though, Sammye got worried and was in a stew herself—that’s the way Little Pigeon did her: always turned things back onto her, and double—so took the bus and came on to Little Pigeon’s. She went in the house, unlocked as usual, and couldn’t find her anywhere. She called and she called, but no Little Pigeon. Then she looked out the window and what did she spy but the two of them, Little Pigeon, her sweet sister, and Old Mrs. Woman, prissing arm in arm down the sidewalk like two Queen of Shebas. Old Mrs. Woman and Little Pigeon had made friends! Sammye saw Little Pigeon all dressed up and all fixed up like she had never seen her before, her hair waved and set, lipstick on and rouge on, her ruby earbobs on, her good shoes on, and the right shoe on the right foot, and in her lovely fur coat. Glued onto her and just as prissy was Old Mrs. Woman, fat as ever but primped up, too, and they were going along like this. Sammye raised the window and called “Little Pigeon! Little Pigeon! This is Sister Sammye come to visit her sweet sister, come on in and let me kiss you hello!” But know what Little Pigeon did? Prissed at Sammye and raised her nose, turned her head away and walked on, Old Mrs. Woman clamped onto her and walking straight along without moving her eyes from ahead. This hurt Sammye to the core. But she pulled down the window and sat down in Little Pigeon’s living room to think about it. She thought, well I’ll leave; and then she thought, no, I’ll just stay, that’s what I’ll do.

  Then they came home, after they had had their beauty walk and seen a show, they came in the house and began ignoring Sammye. Sammye could have been a ghost for all she knew. They went into the kitchen, whispering and cooing, and Sammye came in and said, “It’s time for your insulin, Little Pigeon,” just to see. Little Pigeon turned and declared that only Mrs. Woman gave her her insulin anymore. Then they fixed supper and invited Sammye to sit down and eat, oh they offered her some supper, but they never talked to her at all, they talked about the picture show they had seen, Old Mrs. Woman saying in her baby-talk, “What did the man in the picture show do, Sweetest Thing in This World?” and Sweetest Thing in This World answering, “Killed the woman!” And Old Mrs. Woman spoke back so smart, “Tha-a-a-s right!” It was plain to Sammye that Old Mrs. Woman had taken over Little Pigeon and had made a kindergarten out of Little Pigeon’s house, for she saw those tissue paper snow crystals pasted on the sun porch windows. Old Mrs. Woman would coo, “Now drink your milk, Sweet Thing”; and Little Pigeon would drink it right down. Then she said, “Now Sweet Thing it’s time for bed, let’s go on upstairs.” And up they went without a whimper from Little Pigeon. What is this new Little Pigeon, my sweet sister? Sammye thought. She just stood up and said, mad as the mischief at the bottom of the staircase, “Well how do you do!” Then she got her things and went straight back to Rodunda, where she wrote a letter to Old Mrs. Woman at Little Pigeon’s address. “I demand to know,” her letter stated, “what have you caused to come over my sister, what have you done to turn her against me?” Said, “If you think you will get her to give you some of her pretty things you are just sadly mistaken, because you won’t.” Said, “I want you to stop taking her around, and I want you to stop prissing her up and I want you to stop humoring her, right this very minute. She’s not your sister.” Sammye sent the letter.

  In a few days a call came for Sammye and it was Old Mrs. Woman on the telephone, long distance, in her creamiest voice, as if she was a receptionist or something—and had never received the letter. “Your sister has lost her purse and says to call you because you have hidden it.” Sammye said, “I certainly have not and you will do me the favor of stopping ever calling me about my sister’s purse or about any other thing that goes on in my sister’s house, I am through. You have done something or said something to lowrate me in the eyes of my sister. You old crazy, you have lost your marbles. You have turned my sweet sister against me and if you are not careful I will take out action against you.” She told her upside down, crossways and crooked; then she hung up in Old Mrs. Woman’s face and began to think: now use your head, Sammye Johnson, and take aholt of the situation, now that you have told Old Mrs. Woman off. You have fussed and nearly pulled your hair out because of the worry of Little Pigeon, now here is somebody to look after her if you handle it right. Make out a list of what she must do for Little Pigeon, tell her you will pay her by the week, and you have got the practical nurse for Little Pigeon and one she apparently will let stay in the house.

  A few days passed and Sammye could find nothing to do with herself. Rodunda was small and there were only a handful of people she would have anything to do with, and they were all busy with their husbands and housekeeping. Sammye begun to realize that she had nothing in her life to do or take her mind and interest because she had centered everything around worrying over Little Pigeon. She suddenly felt how alone she would be not to have to worry or look after Little Pigeon. What did she have? She looked around her house one night and got scared. She put on her things next morning and went to go see Little Pigeon.

  But when she got there it was too late. They wouldn’t let her in because they shouted out the window that she had hidden Little Pigeon’s purse. That settles it, Sammye said; and went back to Rodunda. She kept saying to herself, But Sammye why are you so upset? You ought to be relieved. Take this good thing while you can. You are free of all that worry that was driving you to your grave.

  Some nights in her house Sammye got unnerved because she was so all alone. She tried to fix up her house, to have some company, to visit around; but she was so all alone. Often she dreamt of Little Pigeon. Why didn’t she think of her sister, why didn’t she have the telephone operator call her sister? Finally she said to herself, This is too much of a good thing; and she got on the bus and went to go see Little Pigeon.

  But when she got there they wouldn’t let her in again, even after three weeks. In fact, Little Pigeon’s face at the window looked like she thought Sammye was a stranger or a ghost. She didn’t care about her at all. And Old Mrs. Woman wouldn’t come to the window at all or unlock the door. Well, Sammye felt like some dream was going on inside that house, that she was left outside some dream. She cried, “I have to get in to see you Little Pigeon, I have to talk to you, I am your Sister Sammye, have you lost your mind?” What could she do? Night was falling and she left and went down to the drug store and ate her a sandwich, to let things settle. She walked on back to Little Pigeon’s in the dark, wondering whether she would have her in, this time; and thinking, well, maybe I am a ghost, I’ve been by myself so long I don’t know whether I’m live or dead.

  But the drapes were drawn almost to, and when she peeked in between them she saw the two of them by the fire, Little Pigeon just dreaming and purring, Old Mrs. Woman lumped and rolled up into herself whispering some story to herself. But what kind of a room was this? The room was so full of decorations and stuff that there wasn’t enough space left in it to cuss a cat in. There were hanging paper lanterns, paper streamers streaming from the ceiling, paper balls and paper stars. They had made a fairyland playhouse out of Little Pigeon’s spodess living room. Then Sammye saw Old Mrs. Woman moving around through all the waving shapes and strands of colored paper. She saw her go to the mirror and look in it at herself and say, “I’m not so fat, am I, Sweet Thing?’’ And heard Little Pigeon answer back, “No, Mrs. Woman.’’

  Sammye said to herself outside the window, “I know one thing and that is that Old Mrs. Woman is crazy. I’ll break up this playparty.” She began to beat on the sides of the house calling, “Little Pigeon! Little Pigeon! Let me in. I am your sweet sister who loves and adores you!” But she could not disturb the dream of this playhouse. She walked round and round the
house, trying to understand it and decide what to do. She saw across the yard Old Mrs. Woman’s big dark empty house, wrapped in a dream, too. She felt so left out. Then she thought of what to do. She tried the basement door and it was unlocked. She went down there quietly and sat under them to see what else she could hear. Suddenly she heard the music begin, it was “Whispering,” and she heard their feet adancing, just like ghost feet. They danced and they danced, then the music stopped and Sammye heard their feet going up the staircase to bed. Then it was all quiet. Sammye went to sleep on the basement divan, cold and peeved, down among the pipes and storage like a mouse or a lonesome cricket.

  The next morning they were up there, in the kitchen, over Sammye. She heard them fix their breakfast and eat it, she heard Little Pigeon getting her insulin. Then they went into the dining room and they were in the china and the silverware. Sammye heard Little Pigeon say where each piece came from, how her husband had given her this and that, not to smutten up the Dresden compote made of Dresden, Sammye heard her ghostly voice counting the table service of pure silver, one two three four five—and heard Old Mrs. Woman say softly, “Tha-a-a-s right!”

  After awhile Little Pigeon suddenly came into the basement without a word of warning. She saw Sammye sitting there and did not pay her any mind. Finally Sammye spoke out and said, “Hello Little Pigeon!” and Little Pigeon said, “Hush up, ghost of Sister Sammye.” She was looking for her purse, very seriously, going through everything in the baesment. Then she said, “Well, I guess it’s not down here, guess Sister Sammye’s stolen it,” and went on up and out in her dream that Old Mrs. Woman had put her into.

  This gave Sammye an idea. For then she knew that Old Mrs. Woman had told Little Pigeon that she had passed on, or something, and that her face at the window and around the house had been her ghost and not to worry about it. Sammye made her a plan. “If that’s the way they want it, I’ll just be a ghost, and a good one at that!” she declared. She decided to make her home in the basement for awhile, and started making it nice down there where poor Selmus had come to live when Little Pigeon abused him so, by making him go down there to listen to the horse races, which he adored.

  Then when Sammye heard Old Mrs. Woman go out the back door, she watched her through the basement window and saw her going over to her big empty house across the yard. When Old Mrs. Woman was inside her big house, Sammye rapped on the basement ceiling and called out very mournfully, “Little Pigeon! Little Pigeon!” Sammye heard Little Pigeon’s feet acoming down the basement stairs. Little Pigeon came in the basement. The two stood looking at each other. Then Little Pigeon said, “You are Sister Sammye’s ghost, and go away.” Sammye said, “Now looka here, I am not my ghost, I am your real Sister Sammye and you are looking straight at me. I am live as a coal of fire, and want to know what’s going on in this house that I have to bang on the sides of it and at the windows to try to get in to see my own sister. What has Old Mrs. Woman done to you to change you? Now tell your sweet sister.”

  Little Pigeon just swanked and said, “Go ’way, ghost of Sister Sammye.”

  Sammye waited a minute and then said, in a ghost’s voice, “Put out something you treasure for a ghost and he will go away.”

  “But what?” Little Pigeon asked. “You are trying to get my things, just like Old Mrs. Woman said.”

  Sammye said, “I don’t care about your things, put out the ghost some supper. And never tell a soul.”

  Well, this is the way Sammye got her supper, for a while.

  Then Sammye started working her plan. Sammye thought, I’ll wart them to death, I’ll be a regular Jonah to those two, I’ll give them what they asked for and deserve. When Little Pigeon and Old Mrs. Woman would be out walking, Sammye would steal up into the house and touch her fingers on the silver or on the crystal. When they would come back Little Pigeon would find the prints and smuts of fingers on her things and say, “Somebody’s fingers been on my things. The ghost has been here.” And Old Mrs. Woman would look with big eyes and not know what to think. Or, again, Sammye would sneak Little Pigeon’s purse from where she had it and put it in another place. Sammye would hear the two of them tearing the house down looking for it.

  Well, you don’t have to hear any more, you can see how it all ended up: Old Mrs. Woman began to get the blame from Little Pigeon for all the stunts Sammye pulled. She tried then to say there was no ghost and to blame Little Pigeon for trying to devil her, Little Pigeon was all mixed up but said there most assuredly was one, for she had seen it, etc. etc.; and it was the end of their happy honeymoon when Little Pigeon and Old Mrs. Woman had a knock-down-drag-out in the driveway and Old Mrs. Woman pushed Little Pigeon over into the hedge. Then is when Sammye appeared from the basement and picked Little Pigeon out.

  Old Mrs. Woman went back over to her big empty house, back to crying; and everything was like it started out, except that Little Pigeon couldn’t get ghost out of her mind and still thought Sammye was Sammye’s ghost and Sammye could not change her mind. So Sammye stayed a ghost; anything to humor Little Pigeon. But otherwise everything was just the same, Sammye had Little Pigeon back, worrying her to death, calling her long distance at Rodunda when she was not with her, mistreating her and fussing at her when she was with her, and accusing her of stealing her purse or touching her things—Sammye got the blame for everything that was wrong—Sammye was about to pull her hair out with Little Pigeon, said she had no life of her own, said she had nothing, was just a ghost of herself. “But she is my sweet sister that I love and adore,” Sammye would still say.

  Yet it was peculiar how there seemed to be a real ghost in Little Pigeon’s house, just as Little Pigeon had said; for very often they would hear commotions in the basement, and on many mornings they would come down to find the prints of fingers that had touched all over Little Pigeon’s things. Sammye would go down to the basement to look around for signs, but there seemed nothing. Once in a while she caught Little Pigeon still going faithfully down the basement stairs with some hot supper for the basement ghost and would have to stop her and try to reason with her that the ghost that used to be down there had gone away and would never come again. But this was difficult, since Little Pigeon was so far gone in her dream of things by that time; so often Sammye would just let her go and play with the ghost she thought was living in the basement. Sweet Little Pigeon.

  But when Sammye went down to the basement one day, and just to get something this time, not to investigate or spy, what should she find but Old Mrs. Woman! Sammye smelled a rat and said, looking at her out of the corner of her eye, “Go ’way ghost of Old Mrs. Woman!” Old Mrs. Woman prissed and flaunted and said, “Put out something you treasure for a ghost and she will go away. Ha!”

  Then Sammye, who had always been the practical one, decided to use her head. She sat down on the divan that used to be her bed when she was a ghost in the basement herself, and said, “Well, Mrs. Woman, this is foolishness, a ghost pestering a ghost, we’ll drive each other into insanity and all end up in the Home. I’m not going to give up and you’re not either. We mind as well be ghosts together. I’ve got no household anymore and you’ve got none, nor Little Pigeon either, except for what we make for her, by hook or crook; we mind as well make one whole household out of three pieces of households. Why don’t you move on in the basement, move your cedarchest with the Letter in it on over here and I’ll move my things in from Rodunda—and we’ll all three have us a household, us two old ghosts and the sweet Little Pigeon. She can’t get us out of her head anyway, thinks we’re here when we aren’t and we aren’t when we are. Everybody’s everywhere, so far as I can make out, and I’m beginning to not be sure where I am, myself—and I don’t believe you know. This shuttling from house to house is killing us both and will make ghosts of us before we know it. Come on over, Mrs. Woman.’’ And then Sammye said something which if she had said it much earlier in the game would have changed the whole story from the beginning; and saved a lot of traffic. She said it in a quiet tone t
hat she used in talking to herself, “All we want, I guess, is a household that will let us be the way we are.”