Read Online Evil Eye by Joyce Carol Oates - Free Book Online

Mariana stood in the doorway of the bedroom, listening.
    A female voice, or voices. Austin’s voice. Though Austin had forbidden her to follow him Mariana made her way barefoot and cautious to the other end of the house where Austin appeared to be pleading with someone. Was a door locked? Was Ines locked in the bathroom? What was that faint wailing sound, that seemed to be coming from a distance?
    Mariana dared to come up behind Austin and clutch at his arm.
    â€œWhat is it? What has happened?”
    â€œGo back to bed, Mariana. Please. This doesn’t concern you.”
    â€œBut—is Ines ill? Has she hurt hersel f ? Where is Hortensa?”
    â€œGod damn it, Mariana! Do as I tell you. Go back to bed .”
    Mariana returned to the bedroom but not to bed. She was too excited, anxious.
    Has she tried to hurt hersel f ? Kill hersel f ? In Austin’s house?
    That is her revenge. . . .
    It must have been a half hour later, when the commotion in the guest wing had subsided, that Mariana saw, at an angle, the bright lights of a vehicle arriving on the roadway outside. At first she thought it must be a medical vehicle but she didn’t see a flashing light, had not heard a siren, but she could hear a dispatcher’s radio voice.
    Shortly then Mariana saw figures on the front walk, not clearly but at an angle. She had to bring her face close to the window, to see slantwise what was going on. A tall figure—this would be Austin—was walking with another tall figure—Hortensa?—and between them was a child-sized individual, limp-limbed, who had to be Ines. Mariana cranked open a window to hear the frail pettish familiar voice—“I am not crippled for Christ’s sake. I can walk as well as any of you—God damn you!” The driver of the vehicle, evidently a taxi, took luggage from Austin and placed it in the trunk. After some difficulty, Ines was bundled into the backseat with Hortensa. Austin slammed the door and conferred with the driver, and the women were borne away in the chill mist of a dawn in the Berkeley hills.
    Mariana examined the guest bathroom in which Ines had locked herself. Both the sink and the Mexican tile floor were damp; the sink had a faint-red hue that made Mariana feel sick to see.
    In the wastebasket were blood-soaked tissues. Not just a few but a dozen. She cut herself. She bled, in this house. We will never be free of her now.
    Austin came to look for Mariana, pulled her out of the airless bathroom and slammed the door. He was flushed with emotion, his hair disheveled and his jaws unshaven. Mariana asked what had happened and Austin said it was none of her concern and Mariana said of course it was her concern: she was his wife, she lived in this house, too. Had Ines tried to hurt hersel f ? Had she cut hersel f ? With a razor? What had happened?
    Austin said, with a pose of indifference: “She’s gone. And she won’t be back. That’s all you need to know.”
    Mariana followed him into the other part of the house. She saw that he was stroking his unshaven jaws with a look of chagrin and rage. But the rage wasn’t for her, at least. She said: “She’s not well. She’s been wounded by—someone. Why didn’t you warn me that she was missing an eye? It was such a shock to open the door and see her, without being prepared.”
    â€œMissing—what?”
    â€œMissing an eye. Her right eye, I think. Why didn’t you warn me?”
    Austin stared at Mariana as if he suspected she was trying to joke with him, at this inopportune time. He took hold of her arm at the elbow, to give her a little shake, as one might give a willful child.
    â€œMissing an eye? What on earth are you talking about now, Mariana?”
    â€œHer eye. Ines’s right eye. The empty socket—it’s so horrible to see, and so sad. . . .”
    â€œYou’ve had too much to drink. You can’t drink, Mariana. You know