87 292
Ritual, 1969 [two stories]
87
Amanda guessed that the
woman hadn’t seen the
small child in the shop,
hidden as she was by the
window ledge and the
pots of flowers.
The woman came forward
quickly and seemed barely
to register Amanda as she
neared the counter. She
concentrated intensely on
Monsieur Arbot; her eyes,
Amanda noticed, were
darkly circled and the
whites were stained pale
yellow just like the snow
outsidethe lit shopwindow
at twilight. Amanda felt
both fascination and pity
for the woman. There was
ugliness in the eyes and
the pallid skin; her hands
were red, dry and sore
looking and the intricate
mechanisms of the bones
beneath the thin skin
showed through yellow-
white like chicken bones.
If the woman failed to
notice Amanda, Monsieur
Arbot now chose to ignore
the child. Amanda stood
near the counter holding
her wrapped bouquet
of pink and white satin
flowers before her like a
bridesmaid.
The woman placed a new
package of flowers on the
counter for the florist’s
inspection. He poured her
a bowl of coffee. Amanda
noticed how her hands
trembled as she took it
and lifted it to her mouth,
clattering the lip of the
bowl against her teeth at
first, and then drinking
noisily. Neither the woman
nor Monsieur Arbot had
yet spoken.
He opened the package,
but on seeing its contents
clucked his tongue in
disapproval. The woman
continued to suck at