What Maisie Knew, by Henry James

In which we are introduced to Maisie.

Maisie rang. And rang again. No one answered; so, she let herself in. She was used to doing for herself since the adults in her life often weren’t around. Besides, Mrs. Wix was waiting in the car; probably watching her now.

She could see Bob and Anya in the living room and hear the others in the kitchen. She had a choice to make: Bob and Anya were much more recent characters; Emily, David and Dorothea were closer to her time. She was in the middle. Stuck in the middle again between two sets of adults. She had a mind to sneak some food from the kitchen and take it upstairs to her own party.

Just as she finished this thought, Emily popped out of the kitchen, “Why you little monkey,” she said affectionately, “how long have you been standing there? Here let me help you out of that long coat. That’s a nice coat. Your step-father bought you that? How is he? And your mother? Oh and your father? And your step-mother? Come join us in the kitchen. I daresay, you don’t quite belong there; you haven’t found the love of your life yet.” Emily giggles. “But there’s still time; and we’ll help!” Maise obediently follows Emily into the kitchen.

“But, I say, a woman’s place is in the home. All of the women I knew made me happy by making me a home.”

“David, I agree that is one place women can be useful, but they also have the ability to learn much more about art and society and make themselves useful outside the home. I inspired the idea of building better homes for the serfs on my neighbor’s property and that worked out quite well,” Dorothea retorted.

“I don’t think adults are much of use for anything, especially being in love,” Maisie added.

“Maisie, dear, I dare say you’re infected with some of that modernism that has Anya and Bob so enthralled. Not all adults are as neglectful as your parents and most certainly aren’t given to the degree of lasciviousness that characterized their relationships.” Dorothea tried to comfort her.

“That’s right. Look at Agnes and me. Completely in love with each other. Though, Dora did have to die before I could remarry; no divorce for me!” said David.

“Mac and I just sleep all around with everyone. And we’re as happy as anyone is today,” Anya tossed out as she entered the room with Bob. The others cringed at their return.

“Maisie, you’re stuck in the middle between Victorian sensibility and modern experience. Things are worse for you, but not as bad as for Anya and I. Things were never as good for the others, though they liked to pretend they were. And with that said, you’re far too young for me, so I’m going back to starting at Anya’s breasts while the rest of you talk,” Bob offered. Anya gives him a shove.

“So, there it is then. I’ll have more of a real life than David and the others, but it won’t be as bad as Anya’s or Bob’s,” she says the last disparagingly and throws a glace at Bob who is still staring at Anya. “I know more about love and relationships than you think I do.”

Anya smiles comfortingly. Emily says, “We wish you the best luck. You’re still so young.” And while the others are agreeing, the doorbell rings.

Something Happened, by Joseph Heller

In which we are introduced to Bob.

Anya answers the door; would David even know how to work the knob? “Bob,” she’s actually pleasantly surprised; she’d hoped she’d see him but didn’t think he would come.

Bob, for his part, immediately wanted Anya. Take her right there in the doorway. But how would he let her know? Twist her titty? (Ha, ha). He felt he hadn’t grown up any since his days at the insurance company. Maybe they could at least do it on the couch?

“Hey, Anya. Is Mac around?” Was that too obvious? First thing asking about Mac?

“No, he couldn’t come. So we can do it later in the bedroom.”

He was kicking himself; he couldn’t tell if she was serious. Too bad he’d cut out from work early to give it to a prostitute before the party. At least the company paid for that.

“Jesus, you think I’m serious?” Anya sighed. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re here. I’m so bored. The lollypop kids are in the kitchen.”

She’d tried a joke. He should laugh. He waited too long; she was staring. He took a quick look at her boobs. At least he’d had that glance. He’d never have a woman like Marie Jencks. Unless he paid for her.

“Let’s go talk on the couch,” Anya says.

“Alright. You know, I’m sorry Anya. Things are been hard since my son died.”

Anya hoped this wouldn’t be all they talked about. Things are hard all around. But his child’s death. She couldn’t avoid talking about it if he pressed on with it.

“Things have gotten better since I took control of my life. Like when Martha went crazy. I had them call her a limo. That was thinking!”

“You’re doing real well,” Anya attempted to conform him. She was surprised when David entered the room.

“How’s things, old Chap?” David asked.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“You don’t have to talk to him,” Anya interceded.

“I’ve had rough times too, Bob. I always came through them. Maybe you should have been published in serial form?”

“Christ!” clearly disgusted, Bob storms out of the room and Anya after him, giving David a reproachful, dirty look.

Middlemarch, by George Eliot

In which we are introduced to Dorothea.

The bell rings another time and still no one answers it: Emily and David are busy catching up in the kitchen. Anya is wandering back down the hall, hoping to use the bell as a distraction to sneak into the garage and smoke unnoticed.

She has just taken her first drawn when suddenly, the garage door jerks up, then a pair of hands grab under the door and lifts it open further. A dark shape ducks underneath.

“Dorothea?”

“Hello, Anya.”

“No one answered the door?”

“No, but, having lived with Casaubon for some time, he did instruct me in the use of levers. And I am, anyway, a fairly independent woman for my time. Pray excuse me if I startled you. Is the party that way?” and she starts off toward the kitchen.

“Dodo!” Emily screams.

David smiles grandly, “Dorothea! Why, this really is old home week.”

“Truly, I’m glad to see you both again,” and she really means it; she feels her heart is warmed deeply by their presence.

“We were just talking about love, Dodo,” Emily remarks. “I found it, finally, after finding it first for so many others. Matchmaker!” she sings out. “David found it at last, too. And so have you!”

“I’m in love too,” Anya says entering the room. “Remember?”

“Well, yes, you have found love, in a way. But your love is so complicated, so pressured. Our loves are just pure and full of romance, and they go on and on forever. I can just see us growing old, surrounded by our grandchildren’s children. One big happy family, with lots of food on the table and big walking gardens. I just can’t imagine how yours will end.”

“In divorce.”

“David, that’s rude,” Dorothea impinges, immediately worried she was too harsh. “There are many different kinds of love in the world. Why I, for one, loved both Casaubon and Laidslaw, two very different people.”

“And I once loved my Emily then married Dora and now I’m married to Anges,” David added.

“Yes but your loves were just narrative devices designed to create suspense and draw out the plot. My love of Mac was the whole story.”

“Oh really, Anya, you are too much. My Emily just a plot twist? Are you saying my whole life was just a long, drawn out ploy used to sell copies of a serial publication?”

“Let’s not argue, really!” Dorothea implores.

“The door bell’s ringing,” Anya adds coolly.

“And something’s burning. Help!” Dorothea rushes to Emily’s aid and Anya and David glower at each other.

“Oh I’ll get it,” Anya concedes

David Copperfield, by Charles Dickens

In which we are introduced to David Copperfield.

Anya opens the door, “Oh, Christ. David.”

“Anya, hello. I can assure you that whatever may have transpired between us in the past, I am quite happy to see you here now.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. How is Agnes?”

“She couldn’t make it. She on visit to Australia with the children—and Emily, you would correctly surmise if you were one to presume.”

“This Emily’s in the kitchen. Go on in, I’m sure she’s waiting for you.”

“You know I’ve always liked you Anya. Oh not like I liked my Emily or Anges, but you always reminded me of a nightingale singing brightly, though at dusk.”

Anya remembered why she couldn’t stand him and smiled sharply.

“David, you came!” squeaked Emily.

“Quite so. I should have gone out of my way to make this party.”

“I’m glad you could come. You’ve had the most exciting adventures. I do hope you’ll tell us all about them.”

“Naturally. But, Emily, you’ve had adventures too—matchmaking—and to find someone for yourself in the end. That’s really grand! Why, now that I think about it, your plot couldn’t have come to a better resolution.”

“But, David, you’ve matured so much. And been all over and seen so many things, even bad things. And the people you’ve met! My people all seem so shallow in comparison. Jane did her best but your people are so real.”

“True, Charles had a way with characters. And some got to change and change again—like me. I do myself feel fortunate.”

Emily laughs, “David, we could go on like this all day! Why don’t you stay and help me in the kitchen. Anya can get the door when more guests arrive.” Then more playfully, “David, look in that box over there.”

“Oh, what is it? I do say it’s repulsive even.”

“It’s your caul. I bought it years ago. Did you think you’d ever see that again?”

“Oh Emily!” and they are both still laughing when the doorbell rings again.

An American Romance, by John Casey

In which we are introduced to Anya.

Ding-dong. Emma walks smarty to the door; she’s sure this will be her best dinner party ever.

“Anya, you made it.”

Anya immediately wishes she hadn’t come. She hands Emily a casserole; her adopted mother’s recipe. She wishes she hadn’t made that recipe. She should have put dog foot in it at least. Tessie would have.

“Mac couldn’t come.” He wouldn’t have to see her behaving herself at the party. “It’s surprising good to see you again, Emily.”

“Oh Anya, it’s good to see you too! Come help me in the kitchen.”

“Am I the first to arrive,” she flinches as soon as it’s out. Emily doesn’t notice. Why did she said that, she wonders. So gauche. She didn’t have to ask; of course she was. Emily would have introduced her if there were others there.

As Emily chats on about the party, Anya just stands there, listening. The kitchen isn’t really her place; she doesn’t know what to do to help.

“I’m just going to go freshen up.” This time she knows why she said that: she isn't going to freshen up at all, she's going to get away from Emily. Anya can hear Emily still talking as she walks down the hallway, slowly looking at the photographs on the wall. As she expects, the pictures are trite: Emily’s plain friends photographed in common situations.

When the pictures stop, she finds herself in front of Emily’s bedroom. She wants to go in, dig up some dirt on Emily. She thinks: a little transgression might cheer her up, and would certainly pass the time until more guests arrive. Anya has her hand on the bedroom doorknob when a knock comes at the front door and Emily sings out, “Anya, could you get that dear?”