“I can’t be obsequious the way you are, Mother. Simply accept that.”
“It wasn’t solely because of the accident that you were sent away, Sadie. You were a difficult child. You refused to be loved. Can you imagine what that must feel like? To be rejected by your own daughter? You made me feel so bitter and unhappy. You looked at me with disgust. I was filled with self-loathing. I thought everything I did was unworthy and stupid. When I looked in the mirror I felt ugly. And I didn’t feel like that until you came back.”
Sadie was so habituated to this sentiment from her mother, she decided to strike back. “Fine!” Sadie yelled heading out onto the dance floor. “I will go and dance!” Sadie cut between a man and a swirling Marie. She caught Marie in her arms. Marie looked delighted as they spun around together, forcing everyone to move out of their way. Sadie caught a glimpse of her mother, who was fuming, and began to dance more ferociously. The heels of their boots hit the floor as though they were knocking on the doors of hell, asking to be let in.
“I wish I could always hold you like this,” Marie said. “I wish a giant spider would come along and cast a web that wraps all around our bodies. We would be in a cocoon together. And when we finally came out, we would be different, more incredible creatures. We would look and realize we had the same bodies, but they would have colorful wings that spread out from them.”
Sadie did not understand her own feelings; she did not know whether she wanted to kiss or strangle Marie. She didn’t want to be put in the position of trying to trap Marie—to restrain her—to demand over and over again for the proof of her love. She did not want to spend her life waiting to be tossed away by Marie. Sadie suddenly felt like a man, and she found men ridiculous.
Sadie let go of Marie’s arms and hurried off the dance floor. As Sadie stepped outside into the cold, there was a crow lifting its wing and spreading its feathers, like a man sticking his hand into a black leather glove. She inhaled deeply, thinking she had escaped. Did Marie expect her to fit into this world? It would be impossible. It was ridiculous. It didn’t suit her personality at all.
Marie stood on the dance floor, confused, her arms stretched outward. She had felt the absolute pleasure of belonging to someone you actually wanted to belong to. She couldn’t stand not knowing what was in Sadie’s head. Sadie did not operate according to the rules of the Golden Mile. Everyone else was predictable. Everyone else was under her and her father’s thumb. She wanted to have her way. She wanted to know if Sadie loved her back. She wanted a commitment from Sadie. She felt like screaming in frustration.
She would accept playing this game where Sadie withheld her affection as long as she knew that, in the end, she would get her way. Sadie would spend the rest of her life in the Golden Mile and be her best friend.
Then she saw Mrs. Arnett. She knew Sadie abhorred her mother. But that didn’t mean Marie couldn’t use her to serve her purpose. Mrs. Arnett was underhanded. She was obsessed with the hierarchy of the Golden Mile. She would do Marie’s bidding. She would do things for Marie that Marie had no right to ask her to do.
Marie was an intelligent, intuitive person, so she knew what she was doing was wrong. But she was also spoiled, so she went to do it anyway.
Mrs. Arnett was about to follow her daughter out of the hall in order to chastise her for leaving so abruptly when Marie stepped into her path.
“Have you seen Sadie’s writing book?” Marie asked.
“I don’t think she has one. I haven’t observed her writing since she returned home.”
“Yes, of course she does. Of course she must. She would never be able to stop writing. If you could just let me see the notebook. I know she’s modest, so she hides it from others. So if you could let me see it without her knowing . . .”
“I haven’t seen her with any notebook.”
“She might hide it where she used to when we were little, underneath her mattress. If you bring it to me, I promise you I will honor my commitment to Philip. I want to be part of your family. I want you to be a part of mine. But Sadie is a dear friend of my youth and I want to make sure we are on good terms.”
Marie was aware she was telling Mrs. Arnett where the secret door to Sadie’s brain was and handing her the key. She did not care what else Mrs. Arnett found there—as long as she brought her back the fruit of knowledge she desired. Mrs. Arnett had no interest in what went on in Sadie’s mind. She instead turned this meeting to her own advantage.
“Come over to dinner next Tuesday with your father, will you? We’ll all be one family.”
“Yes,” Marie answered, and she grasped Mrs. Arnett’s hands.
Mrs. Arnett’s head was filled immediately with plans for the dinner. She went home and began preparations. She forgot all about the notebook. Sadie, meanwhile, was upstairs making her pen tear breathlessly across the page, the words like a black ribbon at the end of a dancing girl’s braid as she recounted the tale of an orgy at a Thanksgiving Ball.
* * *
On the day of the dinner, Sadie was standing out in front of her house. She had her old cloak on over a new pink dress her mother had bought for her. Her large, odd Napoleon hat was pulled over her hair.
She thought her parents were fools. It was idiotic to put her and Marie in the same room. Didn’t they know? Their characters were both too strong. There was just no way they would ever be able to coexist peacefully. They could either resume their explosive love affair that would somehow bring down everyone around them or they ought to be on opposite sides of the Atlantic.
She thought, I will walk in and I will sit quietly for an hour. All I will have to do is perform being a well-mannered girl. It couldn’t be that hard. She would do it just this once. There were girls at every dining-room table performing being good-mannered, so why couldn’t she? There were girls in bedrooms performing desire and submission. There were girls in kitchens performing being hostesses. There were girls in parks performing being coy, delicate flowers or shrinking violets. Was there a girl anywhere in the city who wasn’t performing?
A rat scampered across her boot. As if to remind her of the secret hidden life that existed in the walls and floorboards of the neighborhood. The repressed thoughts that were tucked away, chased into hiding. That was why girls were so afraid of rodents. If their repressed thoughts were to escape—and they were so potent—they would undo everything anyone thought of them.
Sadie caught the rat by its tail and held it up. The rat’s black eyes looked like they were sewn on like round buttons. She wasn’t at all squeamish. She spoke to the rat as though it were a person.