What Was I Thinking? (36 page)

Sarah was a treasure. Within a week I had a
wardrobe of bras in various styles and the original, which I had allowed to be
dismantled in the name of science, expertly reassembled.

Bert came over every weekend to stay, sleeping
in the blue room, and he and I worked long hours in the basement, trying out
theories, scribbling equations on the chalkboards—giant slates, he called
them—he had installed, and frequently yelling at each other in frustration.

“Why haven’t you made more progress than this?”
I demanded one cold Saturday afternoon. “It’s been months since we got back,
and you don’t have one single more datum than you did the day I met you? What
the hell have you been doing?”

“I’ve been working on a perpetual motion
machine!” he retorted. “I proved time travel could be done and I moved on to
the next experiment! I’m a scientist, not a technician!”

We bickered amicably, and got back to work on
the equation he had sketched out on the biggest slate. Now that we had given up
on marriage, romance, and sex, we got along fine.

I assumed he was dating someone else, but I
never asked. Greg Partridge had called for me a few times and I had gone to the
odd concert with him. Bert never asked about that.

To my surprise, Thanksgiving was not very
different from the ones I remembered, except that it started with an unexpected
gift. Augusta had given me a luxurious fur coat, gloves, muff, and hat that
morning, saying she’d meant the set as a Christmas gift, but thought I might
need it at the football game. The three of us, along with Greg and several of
the other guests from the engagement
party,
were going
to a college game that was considered part of the Olympics that special year.
As it turned out, it was a perfect autumn day, so I left the accessories behind
and wore the coat open to watch Wash. U. play the Haskells.

In the evening, we all went to the downtown
house for an elegant dinner.

In short, my life was nearly perfect—as long as
I squinted to block out the memory of the Igorot, pygmies, Africans, and others
on exhibit in the fair. Without discussion, we had let the idea of launching
our business at the fair fade away, and no one had mentioned it since the day I
had run from it.

Chapter Nineteen

Snow

The next Monday it snowed and I just couldn’t
squint hard enough to ignore my conscience anymore, so I went to the fair alone
to see how the captives were equipped for winter and what I could do for them.

It was freezing. I was bundled up in a woolen
dress and jacket, with heavy petticoats, all topped by the fur coat that
Augusta had given me. I wore the matching hat, pulled well down to cover my
ears, a warm scarf, gloves, and put my gloved hands in the fur muff that came
with the coat. I still hunched against the cold and shivered on the trolley
ride to the fair.

When I arrived, I handed in my coupon quickly
and strode straight to the fancy sign that read “Igorot Village—Headhunters of
the Philippines.” It was worse than I had hoped. I had been telling myself that
surely, surely, the management would provide warm clothes and shelter for these
people, but no. It was true, most seemed to be wearing more clothing than when
I’d last seen them, in early Fall, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

I swallowed hard and blinked back tears. This
wasn’t about me and I couldn’t do anyone any good at all if I just got
emotional. I watched for a while, trying to decide who to approach. I couldn’t
pick out anyone who seemed to be in charge. Whatever staff was charged with
maintenance of this—of
this
,
was not in evidence on this icy day.

There were plenty of fairgoers, though. I
strolled quietly, ashamed to look, but needing to see. Finally, I went to the
Igorot section. If I were going to talk to these people, I would have to find
an inmate who spoke English, or at least a European language in which I might
be able to piece together a few words. I figured people from an island recently
occupied by Spanish and American armies were my best bet.

Still, I hesitated. What would I say? How does
one open such a conversation? Sorry about my
race,
and
about most of humankind, but can I do anything to help you? That was pretty
much my point, but it was graceless at best.

While I stood dithering, I heard raised voices
near me. “Land, dear Evelyn, whatever are you thinking, bringing a lady like me
to see such disgusting, naked savages!”

Turning slightly, I saw that the speaker was a
middle-aged lady festooned in furs, leaning on the arm of a smirking dandy. I
had forgotten that Evelyn had originally been a man’s name. I looked back at
the Igorot, finding them considerably more appealing—and noticed that a heavy
Igorot woman, tending a fire near the fence, seemed to be offended by the
comment. Was it possible she understood the words? Of course, it would be easy
enough to take offense to the facial expressions.

“Now, now, Maude.
They can’t help it they were
born
savage,
and not rare beauties like you. Come, my
sweet. We’ll find something to look at that isn’t quite so fat and coarse.”

I was looking right at the woman for that
comment from Evelyn. She definitely understood. The look she gave to
fancy-pants Evelyn made that entirely clear. Then she saw me watching and wiped
away the expression.

I looked away, checking the crowds around me.
When there was a break, with no one in earshot, I stepped closer to the fence
and called out in a low voice.

“Excuse me, I think you speak English. Do you?”

She nodded, staying impassive.

“Would you please come closer so I can speak to
you without shouting?”

She shook her head, looking off to the side, at
what was evidently her hut. A man stepped out of it, approached me, and said in
a heavy accent “My wife does not wish speak with you. What you want?”

He was in a loincloth and nothing else, just as
the Igorot had been in the warm weather. The woman had a kind of a rough shawl
pulled around her shoulders, but she was barelegged, and I could see several
children in the door of the hut, also badly under-dressed for the weather.

“What? What you want? Why you talk wife?”

I bit my lip and forced myself to speak. “I
want to ask what I may do to help you, and your family. Is there anything I can
do, anyone I could speak to, to make you more comfortable?”

He snorted, and turned away, saying, “No help
from you.”

I looked at the woman who had stopped stirring
the fire to listen to the exchange. “Please come here,” I asked, quietly.

She stepped a little closer. Looking around to
confirm that no one was paying attention to us, I slipped off the beautiful fur
coat and pushed it through the slats of the fence. “Please take this to keep
your children warm,” I said.

She took it automatically, and then looked up
sharply. “Someone
come
,” she said, and vanished into
the hut.

I looked behind me, and saw a florid,
mustachioed man approaching rapidly. “Hi! What goes on here?” he demanded.
“Have those stinking savages stolen your coat, young lady?”

“No, of course not.
I gave it to them. Do you work
here? I’d like to talk to you…”

He wasn’t listening at all. He just grabbed my
elbow and towed me away from the fence.

“Don’t you worry your pretty head about them
savages, miss. We have scientists knows what’s best for them, and young ladies
mucking about don’t make nothing better. Now, then, let’s get you in a nice
tearoom to warm up, and I’ll send a zookeeper in to get your coat back from
them thieving bastards.”

I wrenched my arm free. I was freezing, but I
wasn’t going anywhere with this guy. “No.
Absolutely not.
I don’t want any tea and they aren’t thieves. I gave them my coat because they
needed it.”

“Now, now, don’t be carrying on. You leave it
up to me.
Sanders!”
The last was shouted, and a
younger man, wearing some sort of uniform, hurried over.

“Sanders, this pretty, little lady took pity on
the savages, and let them steal her coat. You go and fetch it right back, you
hear?”

“Yes sir, Mr. Fields. You can depend on me!”
and Sanders bustled off.

“No, don’t, don’t,” I gasped out, but no one
was listening to me. Mr. Fields took a firmer hold and dragged me bodily into
the nearest restaurant. He turned me over to the maître d’ with instructions
that I wasn’t to leave until my husband or father had been found to take
responsibility for me.

I sat down in defeat, ignoring those who were
demanding to know who was responsible for me, and shivering violently.

Presently, Sanders and Fields reappeared
together.
Sanders was
carrying my coat, which now had
a bloody smear on one sleeve. “Had to pop the big fella a good one to make him
leave go,” he said confidentially, “but I got it, sure enough. Here you go,
miss.”

I turned away, shuddering, sick with the
knowledge that I had managed the impossible—I had made life
worse
for the Igorot freezing in an
alien zoo.

I walked away, leaving the formerly beautiful
coat behind with the chattering and exclaiming men. They didn’t want to let me
go without supervision, but couldn’t decide whose job it was to catch me.

I walked all the way back, too upset to bother
with a trolley or a hack. By the time I made it back to Roland House, my teeth
were clattering wildly and my arms felt like ice. I was ashamedly very glad I
still had my gloves and scarf. I had dropped my muff when the odious Mr. Fields
had first grabbed me, but at least my hands had some cover.

I went in the front and straight up to my
apartment, hardly noticing the exclamations and questions that followed me. I
locked the door, pulled off my boots, hat, and gloves, and crawled into bed. I
pulled all the covers tightly around me, curled up in a ball, and just shook.

I couldn’t sort out what was cold, what shame,
what fear, and I didn’t care to try. I just shook, and tried not to think,
until I finally fell asleep.

I woke up in the night, and thought about going
to the bathroom. I thought about needing something to eat. I decided I didn’t
care about either, rolled over, and went back to sleep. When I couldn’t sleep
anymore, I stared at the ceiling and forced myself not to think at all.

I stayed like that for several days, though I
did eventually make a couple trips to the toilet. I found that if I only took a
tiny sip of water when I was absolutely parched, I didn’t really need the
toilet more than once a day or so.

I don’t know how long I’d been like that when
Bert unlocked the door and came in. I thought about asking him how he’d gotten
in, or what business he had barging into a room he had said was mine, but it
seemed like a lot of trouble, so I didn’t.

He spoke, but I wasn’t interested, so I didn’t
listen.

After a while, Augusta came in, and she spoke,
too. They took turns and sometimes they got very loud.

I looked at the ceiling.

Finally, Bert said something very, very loud. I
thought it must have been a threat and I looked at him without willing it.

He noticed, and pushed the advantage. “Last
chance, Addie. Are you going to get out of bed, wash, put on clean clothes, eat
something, and talk to us, or are we going to send for the doctor?”

I thought about that. I don’t know how long,
but when he made a disgusted sound and started to walk away, I sat up. I tried
to speak, but nothing came out. Augusta handed me a glass of water, which she
had evidently been holding ready.

I took a sip, and then said, “Don’t send for
the doctor. I’ll get up. I’m sorry to be a bother.”

They both sighed hugely, and I saw for the
first time how strained they looked.

“I’m really sorry,” I whispered, feeling tears
start. “I’m really, really sorry. The last thing I wanted was to be a bother.”

“Don’t worry about it, dear heart,” Augusta
said, patting my shoulder. “Just you let me help you wash and dress and we’ll
talk it all over.”

I pulled back suddenly at that. “I
don’t
want to talk,” I said, definitely.

They exchanged glances, and Augusta patted me
again. “All right, then. Don’t worry about it. Bert will go order some broth
while you dress, and then we’ll see.”

With some effort, I persuaded Augusta that I
could be trusted to take a bath unsupervised. She insisted on staying in the
sitting room, and that I leave the door open a crack, “Just in case,” and I
didn’t push it. I couldn’t blame her for worrying that I might harm myself in
the bathroom. I hadn’t shown much mental stability lately.

If I were going to rejoin the living, and try
not to be a bother, this would be a good time to start. I took my time with the
bath, loving the feeling of warmth and cleanliness in spite of myself, and then
dressed warmly, with Augusta’s help.