No, she’d never go out, she’d never give them such an easy victory. They were the dependent ones, they couldn’t get ahead of her.
She heard the door open and someone come into the room. She didn’t move or ask, “Who’s there?” She had a bitter pride in this independence. Later on, if she was patient, she would know who was there. It must be Letty or Alice or Ida, and pretty soon whoever it was would make some sound that singled her out from the rest. She lay still and listened.
But Letty knew she was not sleeping because her arms were too rigid, her body too stiff, as if it refused to yield to sleep, considering comfort a weakness or sleep a danger.
Once Letty opened her muth to say “Kelsey?” to let her know who had come in, but she didn’t say it.
She’s sulking again, Letty thought, for some trivial reason she’s sulking, pretending to be asleep. No, it is subtler than that. She doesn’t want me to think she is asleep, she wants me to know she is pretending to be asleep.
With a sigh Letty turned back to the closet and took down the rest of Kelsey’s summer dresses. As she worked she hummed very softly so that Kelsey would know her. Her big bony hands looked out of place against Kelsey’s fragile dresses, but Letty, once sensitive about her size, didn’t notice the contrast.
The room was bare. There was Kelsey’s bed along one wall, her lounge against the window, a bureau, a deep chair covered in blue chintz and a small table beside the bed. The rest of the furniture had been removed piece by piece: the bookshelf, the pictures, the mirrors, a vanity over which Kelsey had once stumbled.
A hanger clattered to the floor. Letty bent over it, knowing that Kelsey would come awake now.
“Letty!”
The voice did not come up, muffled, through clouds of sleep, but sprang sharp and sure across the room.
“What was that, Letty?”
“A hanger,” Letty said. “I thought I’d put away your summer things.”
“Now?” The head came up, the neck twisted, the eyes stared, cold and unseeing. “While I was sleeping?”
“Were you asleep?” Letty said. “I’m sorry, I thought I’d better do this today. Alice said she wanted to spray the closet.”
Kelsey sat up and swung her legs to the floor. For just a moment her mind tricked her and she thought that her eyes were closed and if she opened them she would see herself in the mirror across the room, catch a glimpse of yellow tousled curls, slim arms stretching over her head, long lazy legs. She would open her eyes and walk across the rug toward the mirror, her image becoming clearer and prettier as she drew near, and at the very last she would look at her eyes, blue and dreamy from sleep but excited at waking.
“Have the mirrors been taken away?” she said. “All of them?”
“Last week,” Letty said. “Remember, Alice helped...”
“I don’t remember.”
“Well, they were taken away, even the one in the bathroom.”
“The bathroom? You didn’t poke around in any of my things?”
“No,” Letty said. “No.”
She picked up the dresses, piling them over her arm, but she didn’t move toward the door. She knew that if she walked away the voice would spring at her again, pulling her back.
“You didn’t take the clock away,” Kelsey said. “I can hear it.”
“No, that’s my watch. The clock is gone.”
“What are you standing there for? What time is it?”
“Nearly four,” Letty said. “Today is Tuesday. Johnny will be here early. Hadn’t you better dress?”
“Tuesday,” Kelsey repeated. “Why do you say it in that special way? What’s Tuesday?”
Letty walked to the door and closed it softly. “You remember. Johnny is bringing someone to meet you. A girl, a Miss Moore. What will you wear?”
She spoke briskly and walked back to the clothes closet, making bustling noises that were unnatural to her. “The black suit would be nice — or the blue wool.”
“Wait! I told John I didn’t care to meet Miss Moore!”
“But you said later you would, that you wanted...”
“I don’t remember that,” Kelsey said. “I’m not going down. I’ve seen enough of his women to know they’re all alike anyway.”
Her voice was rough as if the teeth of the past had gnawed at it and left sharp little splinters on the surface. No, Johnny’s women weren’t all alike, no, there was one who wasn’t like the others, one girl who had detached herself from the mass and hung suspended in Kelsey’s mind. The girl’s face was like an animal squatting in the chair, sometimes it breathed and came alive, a sick breathing face. Then it died again and the dead face was better.
“What was her name?” Kelsey said.
“Her name?” Letty turned. “Miss Moore.”
“No, the other one.”
“Oh, her,” Letty said. “I don’t remember. Geraldine, I think. I think the blue wool would be nice. You could wear your sapphires.”
She took the dress out of the closet, making the bustling noises again, pretending that Kelsey had not refused to go downstairs. They had played this game together for a long time and each of them knew the rules. Kelsey began to unbutton the neck of the yellow dress she was wearing. Then she held up her hands and waited for Letty to pull the dress over her head.
“It’s hot,” Kelsey said.
“I’ll open the door again.”
“Why did you close it in the first place?”
“Because,” Letty said calmly, “I thought you might make a fuss. About meeting Miss Moore.”
“Why should I make a fuss about meeting Miss Moore?” Kelsey asked in a reasonable voice. “She’s nothing to me or to Johnny either. I don’t suppose she has enough sense to know that Johnny will never marry her. Can you imagine Johnny getting married on thirty-five dollars a week?”
“He wouldn’t be doing that,” Letty said. “There’s his allowance.”
“Be careful of my hair. No, the other side.”
“You wouldn’t stop giving him that,” Letty said.
“I’m getting thinner. Look, the belt is too loose. No, leave it like that today. There isn’t time to take it in: we must hurry.”
She leaned over and began to take off her shoes, very slowly, pointing up the irony. It was her way of putting Letty in her place, of closing the discussion of Johnny. In silence Letty handed her a comb and Kelsey began to comb out her hair, still moving with the planned deliberate slowness.
“Is the part straight?”
“Yes,” Letty said.
Kelsey’s hands dropped suddenly into her lap and the comb fell to the floor.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” she whispered. “Even about a little thing like that.”
“I am. Now you’re not going to be silly.”
“Silly? You think it’s silly for me to want to see myself again? It’s harder never to see yourself again than never to see other people.”
For you, Letty said silently, for you it is. She dropped on her knees to put Kelsey’s shoes on.
“Other people aren’t real,” Kelsey said.
“No, I guess not.”
“You can’t understand. You’re thinking badly of me, I can feel it. You’re frowning, aren’t you?”
“There’s a spot on your shoe,” Letty said. “Maybe I was frowning. I’ll get a brush.”