unopened, for May, June and July. Her personal checkbook was in the top drawer of the living-room desk, a built-in affair. She had not balanced it in some time, and I estimated she had a couple of hundred dollars in her account.
At nine-thirty I called D. Harper Fairlea in New Haven. They said he was ill and could not come to the phone. I asked to talk to his wife.
She had a soft, pleasant voice.
"Mr. McGee, surely Lois could tell you that Harp had a severe heart attack some months ago.
He's been home a few weeks now, and it is going to be a long haul. Really, I thought the very least she could do was come up here. He is her only blood relative, you know. And I have been wondering why we haven't heard from her. If she is in some sort of trouble and needs help, about all we can say is that we hope things will work out for her. We really can't give her any kind of assistance right now.
We have three children in school, Mr. McGee.
I don't even want to tell Harp about this. I don't want to give him something else to fret about.
I've been inventing imaginary phone calls from Lois, inventing concern and telling him she is fine."
"I'll know better in a few days, how she is and what will have to be done."
"I understood she has some nice friends down there."
"Not lately."
Page 31
"What is that supposed to mean?"
.,I think she gave, up her nice friends."
"Please have her phone me when she's able.
I'm going to worry about her. But there's just nothing I can do. I can't leave Harp now, and I just don't see how I could take her in."
No help there. She hadn't seemed very concerned about who I might be. I sensed that the two sisters-in-law had not got-ten along too well. So it was no longer a case of waiting for somebody to come and take over. I was stuck, temporarily.
I made up a bed in the bedroom next to hers. I left my door and her door open. In the middle of the night I was awakened by the sound of glass breaking. I pulled my pants on and went looking. Her bed was empty. The nightgown and bed jacket were on the floor beside the bed.
The nightgown was ripped.
I found her in the kitchen alcove, fumbling with the bottles. I turned on the white blaze of fluorescence and she squinted toward me, standing naked in spilled liquor and broken glass. She looked at me but I do not think she knew me. 'Where is Fancha?" she yelled.
"Where is that bitch? I hear her singing.
She was beautifully made, but far too thin.
Her bones were sharp against the smoothness of her, her ribs visible. Except in the meagerness of hips and breasts, all the fatty tissue had been burned away, and her belly had the slight bloat that indicates starvation. I got her away from there. Miraculously, she had not cut her feet. She squirmed with surprising strength, whining, trying to scratch and bite. I got her back Into her bed, and when she stopped fighting me, I got one of the other pills down her. Soon it began to take effect. I put the lights out. I sat by her. She held my wrist very tightly, and fought against the effects of the pill.
She would start to slide away and then struggle back to semi-consciousness. I did not understand a lot of her mumbling. Sometimes she seemed to be talking to me, and at other times she was back in her immediate past.
Once, with great clarity, with a mature and stately indignation she said, 'I will not do than"
Moments later she repeated it, but this time in the lisping narrow voice of a scared young child.
"Oh, I will not do that!" The contrast came close to breaking my heart.
And then at last she slept. I, cleaned up, hid the remaining liquor and went back to bed.
in the morning she was rational, and even a bit hungry. She ate eggs scrambled with butter and cream, and had a slice of toast. She napped for a little while, and then she wanted to talk.
"It was such a stupid thing, in the beginning," she said. "You live here all year aroundo and you want the natives to like you. You try to be pleasant. It's a small
At nine-thirty I called D. Harper Fairlea in New Haven. They said he was ill and could not come to the phone. I asked to talk to his wife.
She had a soft, pleasant voice.
"Mr. McGee, surely Lois could tell you that Harp had a severe heart attack some months ago.
He's been home a few weeks now, and it is going to be a long haul. Really, I thought the very least she could do was come up here. He is her only blood relative, you know. And I have been wondering why we haven't heard from her. If she is in some sort of trouble and needs help, about all we can say is that we hope things will work out for her. We really can't give her any kind of assistance right now.
We have three children in school, Mr. McGee.
I don't even want to tell Harp about this. I don't want to give him something else to fret about.
I've been inventing imaginary phone calls from Lois, inventing concern and telling him she is fine."
"I'll know better in a few days, how she is and what will have to be done."
"I understood she has some nice friends down there."
"Not lately."
Page 31
"What is that supposed to mean?"
.,I think she gave, up her nice friends."
"Please have her phone me when she's able.
I'm going to worry about her. But there's just nothing I can do. I can't leave Harp now, and I just don't see how I could take her in."
No help there. She hadn't seemed very concerned about who I might be. I sensed that the two sisters-in-law had not got-ten along too well. So it was no longer a case of waiting for somebody to come and take over. I was stuck, temporarily.
I made up a bed in the bedroom next to hers. I left my door and her door open. In the middle of the night I was awakened by the sound of glass breaking. I pulled my pants on and went looking. Her bed was empty. The nightgown and bed jacket were on the floor beside the bed.
The nightgown was ripped.
I found her in the kitchen alcove, fumbling with the bottles. I turned on the white blaze of fluorescence and she squinted toward me, standing naked in spilled liquor and broken glass. She looked at me but I do not think she knew me. 'Where is Fancha?" she yelled.
"Where is that bitch? I hear her singing.
She was beautifully made, but far too thin.
Her bones were sharp against the smoothness of her, her ribs visible. Except in the meagerness of hips and breasts, all the fatty tissue had been burned away, and her belly had the slight bloat that indicates starvation. I got her away from there. Miraculously, she had not cut her feet. She squirmed with surprising strength, whining, trying to scratch and bite. I got her back Into her bed, and when she stopped fighting me, I got one of the other pills down her. Soon it began to take effect. I put the lights out. I sat by her. She held my wrist very tightly, and fought against the effects of the pill.
She would start to slide away and then struggle back to semi-consciousness. I did not understand a lot of her mumbling. Sometimes she seemed to be talking to me, and at other times she was back in her immediate past.
Once, with great clarity, with a mature and stately indignation she said, 'I will not do than"
Moments later she repeated it, but this time in the lisping narrow voice of a scared young child.
"Oh, I will not do that!" The contrast came close to breaking my heart.
And then at last she slept. I, cleaned up, hid the remaining liquor and went back to bed.
in the morning she was rational, and even a bit hungry. She ate eggs scrambled with butter and cream, and had a slice of toast. She napped for a little while, and then she wanted to talk.
"It was such a stupid thing, in the beginning," she said. "You live here all year aroundo and you want the natives to like you. You try to be pleasant. It's a small
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