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Authors: Isabel Miller
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her.
I’m not proud of myself for this next part, but I’m proud of Sarah, and I have to tell mine to tell hers.
Sarah was at my door. I gasped at the sight of her, and took her arm to draw her in. Her eyes were bruised, face puffy, lip swollen and split, eyebrow cut. “Pa’s here,” she said, and, yes, he was, leaning against the wall beside the door. I hadn’t noticed anything except the condition of Sarah’s face, but when I saw him hulking there my heart began to pound so loud I thought it would deafen me and maybe deafen them too.
They both came in. I shut the door and leaned against it. I was very afraid. We were all mute. Soon I felt the door move, and Edward came in. I suppose Tobe or the children had seen them come and told him. I didn’t care. I may even have been a little glad. Sarah and I were lost anyway. At least Edward could talk.
“Was that necessary, Dowling?” he asked, tilting towards Sarah’s damages.
“I didn’t really hurt her. Just bare bands. That cut there’s the only one she’s got. Her own bone did that.”
Edward’s lips made an excellent scornful line. “Well, what brings you?”
“She was set on it. I thought there’d be no harm as long as I came too. Speak up, gal. We won’t stay long.”
She glanced at them, waiting for them to stand back and let us talk, but they stood right there, wouldn’t budge, and she looked at me and braced herself and said, “Do you still want to go?” She looked at me with love, right there in front of them. I felt angry at her. Embarassed.
“We can’t,” I said, because we couldn’t unless Edward bought me out and Sarah’s father stopped guarding her. We’d need so much help to go, and they’d set their wills against our going, and it was hopeless, and I couldn’t remember love. It was far away and lost, like infancy, and a mistake anyway.
“We can, unless you don’t want to.”
“It wasn’t very reasonable,” I said.
Her father said, “There, Sal, you’ve got your answer. Now let’s go.”
“If you want to, we’ll find a way,” she said.
“There is no way,” I said.
“You’ve got your answer. You was played with,” her father said. “Now come on.”
She said, “Do you want to?”
As a pauper and a fugitive? For a love I couldn’t remember the feel of? I didn’t want to. I wasn’t strong enough. I had to know what I was strong enough for. I had to know that much.
“No.”
With a great wailing groan she made for the door.
I let her go. There was no more to say. Then when she and her father were out the door, there was one more thing to say.
“Sarah!” I called. She faced me so fast, so hopeful.
“Don’t you care what people think?”
“Course I care,” she said. She turned away. She stumbled as she walked away. I shut the door.
Edward was still with me. For something to do, not to look at him or talk, I sat down to spin. He was standing in the middle of my kitchen, just standing there, for the longest time. Go, go, go, go, go, I thought. Out, Edward.
“She really feels,” he said, slowly. “I never knew anybody to feel so much. Not even a man.”
I faced again my fate as spinster sister and aunt, but it was worse now because I believed it, as I never really had before. I knew myself unable to change my life.
I worked at forgetting what I thought I knew when Sarah kissed me. That whole day came to seem very childish and foolish and unworthy of me. I struggled for calm and unselfishness, to be of service to others, and I thought, why, this is suffering, this is the pain of life, this is what they talk about in Church, this daily struggle to keep going without knowing why. And I saw what was meant by faith: faith is the belief that this life is not our only chance. Wavering of faith means beginning to believe in this life and wanting to live it, denying all duties and dashing off uncontrolled. What would I do, I wondered, all uncontrolled and raging and self-seeking, my
I’m not proud of myself for this next part, but I’m proud of Sarah, and I have to tell mine to tell hers.
Sarah was at my door. I gasped at the sight of her, and took her arm to draw her in. Her eyes were bruised, face puffy, lip swollen and split, eyebrow cut. “Pa’s here,” she said, and, yes, he was, leaning against the wall beside the door. I hadn’t noticed anything except the condition of Sarah’s face, but when I saw him hulking there my heart began to pound so loud I thought it would deafen me and maybe deafen them too.
They both came in. I shut the door and leaned against it. I was very afraid. We were all mute. Soon I felt the door move, and Edward came in. I suppose Tobe or the children had seen them come and told him. I didn’t care. I may even have been a little glad. Sarah and I were lost anyway. At least Edward could talk.
“Was that necessary, Dowling?” he asked, tilting towards Sarah’s damages.
“I didn’t really hurt her. Just bare bands. That cut there’s the only one she’s got. Her own bone did that.”
Edward’s lips made an excellent scornful line. “Well, what brings you?”
“She was set on it. I thought there’d be no harm as long as I came too. Speak up, gal. We won’t stay long.”
She glanced at them, waiting for them to stand back and let us talk, but they stood right there, wouldn’t budge, and she looked at me and braced herself and said, “Do you still want to go?” She looked at me with love, right there in front of them. I felt angry at her. Embarassed.
“We can’t,” I said, because we couldn’t unless Edward bought me out and Sarah’s father stopped guarding her. We’d need so much help to go, and they’d set their wills against our going, and it was hopeless, and I couldn’t remember love. It was far away and lost, like infancy, and a mistake anyway.
“We can, unless you don’t want to.”
“It wasn’t very reasonable,” I said.
Her father said, “There, Sal, you’ve got your answer. Now let’s go.”
“If you want to, we’ll find a way,” she said.
“There is no way,” I said.
“You’ve got your answer. You was played with,” her father said. “Now come on.”
She said, “Do you want to?”
As a pauper and a fugitive? For a love I couldn’t remember the feel of? I didn’t want to. I wasn’t strong enough. I had to know what I was strong enough for. I had to know that much.
“No.”
With a great wailing groan she made for the door.
I let her go. There was no more to say. Then when she and her father were out the door, there was one more thing to say.
“Sarah!” I called. She faced me so fast, so hopeful.
“Don’t you care what people think?”
“Course I care,” she said. She turned away. She stumbled as she walked away. I shut the door.
Edward was still with me. For something to do, not to look at him or talk, I sat down to spin. He was standing in the middle of my kitchen, just standing there, for the longest time. Go, go, go, go, go, I thought. Out, Edward.
“She really feels,” he said, slowly. “I never knew anybody to feel so much. Not even a man.”
I faced again my fate as spinster sister and aunt, but it was worse now because I believed it, as I never really had before. I knew myself unable to change my life.
I worked at forgetting what I thought I knew when Sarah kissed me. That whole day came to seem very childish and foolish and unworthy of me. I struggled for calm and unselfishness, to be of service to others, and I thought, why, this is suffering, this is the pain of life, this is what they talk about in Church, this daily struggle to keep going without knowing why. And I saw what was meant by faith: faith is the belief that this life is not our only chance. Wavering of faith means beginning to believe in this life and wanting to live it, denying all duties and dashing off uncontrolled. What would I do, I wondered, all uncontrolled and raging and self-seeking, my
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