The Other Woman

by Sherwood Anderson

While The Other Woman is an interesting read standing alone as a completed isolated short story, it becomes even more interesting when one considers that Sherwood Anderson was a very introspective and subjective writer whose work was often loaded with personal experience. As you read the following story, keep in mind that Anderson married four times! His spouses were: Cornelia Pratt Lane (1904–1916), Tennessee Claflin Mitchell (1916–1924), Elizabeth Prall (1924–1932), Eleanor Copenhaver (1933–1941).

"I am in love with my wife," he said--a superfluous remark, as I hadnot questioned his attachment to the woman he had married. We walkedfor ten minutes and then he said it again. I turned to look at him. Hebegan to talk and told me the tale I am now about to set down.The thing he had on his mind happened during what must have been themost eventful week of his life. He was to be married on Fridayafternoon. On Friday of the week before he got a telegram announcinghis appointment to a government position. Something else happened thatmade him very proud and glad. In secret he was in the habit of writingverses and during the year before several of them had been printed inpoetry magazines. One of the societies that give prizes for what theythink the best poems published during the year put his name at the headof its list. The story of his triumph was printed in the newspapers ofhis home city and one of them also printed his picture.As might have been expected he was excited and in a rather highlystrung nervous state all during that week. Almost every evening he wentto call on his fiancee, the daughter of a judge. When he got there thehouse was filled with people and many letters, telegrams and packageswere being received. He stood a little to one side and men and womenkept coming up to speak to him. They congratulated him upon his successin getting the government position and on his achievement as a poet.Everyone seemed to be praising him and when he went home and to bed hecould not sleep. On Wednesday evening he went to the theatre and itseemed to him that people all over the house recognized him. Everyonenodded and smiled. After the first act five or six men and two womenleft their seats to gather about him. A little group was formed.Strangers sitting along the same row of seats stretched their necks andlooked. He had never received so much attention before, and now a feverof expectancy took possession of him.As he explained when he told me of his experience, it was for him analtogether abnormal time. He felt like one floating in air. When he gotinto bed after seeing so many people and hearing so many words ofpraise his head whirled round and round. When he closed his eyes acrowd of people invaded his room. It seemed as though the minds of allthe people of his city were centred on himself. The most absurd fanciestook possession of him. He imagined himself riding in a carriagethrough the streets of a city. Windows were thrown open and people ranout at the doors of houses. "There he is. That's him," they shouted,and at the words a glad cry arose. The carriage drove into a streetblocked with people. A hundred thousand pairs of eyes looked up at him."There you are! What a fellow you have managed to make of yourself!"the eyes seemed to be saying.My friend could not explain whether the excitement of the people wasdue to the fact that he had written a new poem or whether, in his newgovernment position, he had performed some notable act. The apartmentwhere he lived at that time was on a street perched along the top of acliff far out at the edge of his city, and from his bedroom window hecould look down over trees and factory roofs to a river. As he couldnot sleep and as the fancies that kept crowding in upon him only madehim more excited, he got out of bed and tried to think.As would be natural under such circumstances, he tried to control histhoughts, but when he sat by the window and was wide awake a mostunexpected and humiliating thing happened. The night was clear andfine. There was a moon. He wanted to dream of the woman who was to behis wife, to think out lines for noble poems or make plans that wouldaffect his career. Much to his surprise his mind refused to do anythingof the sort.At a corner of the street where he lived there was a small cigar storeand newspaper stand run by a fat man of forty and his wife, a smallactive woman with bright grey eyes. In the morning he stopped there tobuy a paper before going down to the city. Sometimes he saw only thefat man, but often the man had disappeared and the woman waited on him.She was, as he assured me at least twenty times in telling me his tale,a very ordinary person with nothing special or notable about her, butfor some reason he could not explain, being in her presence stirred himprofoundly. During that week in the midst of his distraction she wasthe only person he knew who stood out clear and distinct in his mind.When he wanted so much to think noble thoughts he could think only ofher. Before he knew what was happening his imagination had taken holdof the notion of having a love affair with the woman."I could not understand myself," he declared, in telling me the story."At night, when the city was quiet and when I should have been asleep,I thought about her all the time. After two or three days of that sortof thing the consciousness of her got into my daytime thoughts. I wasterribly muddled. When I went to see the woman who is now my wife Ifound that my love for her was in no way affected by my vagrantthoughts. There was but one woman in the world I wanted to live withand to be my comrade in undertaking to improve my own character and myposition in the world, but for the moment, you see, I wanted this otherwoman to be in my arms. She had worked her way into my being. On allsides people were saying I was a big man who would do big things, andthere I was. That evening when I went to the theatre I walked homebecause I knew I would be unable to sleep, and to satisfy the annoyingimpulse in myself I went and stood on the sidewalk before the tobaccoshop. It was a two story building, and I knew the woman lived upstairswith her husband. For a long time I stood in the darkness with my bodypressed against the wall of the building, and then I thought of the twoof them up there and no doubt in bed together. That made me furious."Then I grew more furious with myself. I went home and got into bed,shaken with anger. There are certain books of verse and some prosewritings that have always moved me deeply, and so I put several bookson a table by my bed."The voices in the books were like the voices of the dead. I did nothear them. The printed words would not penetrate into my consciousness.I tried to think of the woman I loved, but her figure had also becomesomething far away, something with which I for the moment seemed tohave nothing to do. I rolled and tumbled about in the bed. It was amiserable experience."On Thursday morning I went into the store. There stood the womanalone. I think she knew how I felt. Perhaps she had been thinking of meas I had been thinking of her. A doubtful hesitating smile played aboutthe corners of her mouth. She had on a dress made of cheap cloth andthere was a tear on the shoulder. She must have been ten years olderthan myself. When I tried to put my pennies on the glass counter,behind which she stood, my hand trembled so that the pennies made asharp rattling noise. When I spoke the voice that came out of my throatdid not sound like anything that had ever belonged to me. It barelyarose above a thick whisper. 'I want you,' I said. 'I want you verymuch. Can't you run away from your husband? Come to me at my apartmentat seven tonight.'"The woman did come to my apartment at seven. That morning she didn'tsay anything at all. For a minute perhaps we stood looking at eachother. I had forgotten everything in the world but just her. Then shenodded her head and I went away. Now that I think of it I cannotremember a word I ever heard her say. She came to my apartment at sevenand it was dark. You must understand this was in the month of October.I had not lighted a light and I had sent my servant away."During that day I was no good at all. Several men came to see me at myoffice, but I got all muddled up in trying to talk with them. Theyattributed my rattle-headedness to my approaching marriage and wentaway laughing."It was on that morning, just the day before my marriage, that I got along and very beautiful letter from my fiancee. During the night beforeshe also had been unable to sleep and had got out of bed to write theletter. Everything she said in it was very sharp and real, but sheherself, as a living thing, seemed to have receded into the distance.It seemed to me that she was like a bird, flying far away in distantskies, and that I was like a perplexed bare-footed boy standing in thedusty road before a farm house and looking at her receding figure. Iwonder if you will understand what I mean?"In regard to the letter. In it she, the awakening woman, poured outher heart. She of course knew nothing of life, but she was a woman. Shelay, I suppose, in her bed feeling nervous and wrought up as I had beendoing. She realized that a great change was about to take place in herlife and was glad and afraid too. There she lay thinking of it all.Then she got out of bed and began talking to me on the bit of paper.She told me how afraid she was and how glad too. Like most young womenshe had heard things whispered. In the letter she was very sweet andfine. 'For a long time, after we are married, we will forget we are aman and woman,' she wrote. 'We will be human beings. You must rememberthat I am ignorant and often I will be very stupid. You must love meand be very patient and kind. When I know more, when after a long timeyou have taught me the way of life, I will try to repay you. I willlove you tenderly and passionately. The possibility of that is in me orI would not want to marry at all. I am afraid but I am also happy. O, Iam so glad our marriage time is near at hand!'"Now you see clearly enough what a mess I was in. In my office, after Ihad read my fiancee's letter, I became at once very resolute andstrong. I remember that I got out of my chair and walked about, proudof the fact that I was to be the husband of so noble a woman. Rightaway I felt concerning her as I had been feeling about myself before Ifound out what a weak thing I was. To be sure I took a strongresolution that I would not be weak. At nine that evening I had plannedto run in to see my fiancee. 'I'm all right now,' I said to myself.'The beauty of her character has saved me from myself. I will go homenow and send the other woman away.' In the morning I had telephoned tomy servant and told him that I did not want him to be at the apartmentthat evening and I now picked up the telephone to tell him to stay athome."Then a thought came to me. 'I will not want him there in any event,' Itold myself. 'What will he think when he sees a woman coming in myplace on the evening before the day I am to be married?' I put thetelephone down and prepared to go home. 'If I want my servant out ofthe apartment it is because I do not want him to hear me talk with thewoman. I cannot be rude to her. I will have to make some kind of anexplanation,' I said to myself."The woman came at seven o'clock, and, as you may have guessed, I lether in and forgot the resolution I had made. It is likely I never hadany intention of doing anything else. There was a bell on my door, butshe did not ring, but knocked very softly. It seems to me thateverything she did that evening was soft and quiet, but very determinedand quick. Do I make myself clear? When she came I was standing justwithin the door where I had been standing and waiting for a half hour.My hands were trembling as they had trembled in the morning when hereyes looked at me and when I tried to put the pennies on the counter inthe store. When I opened the door she stepped quickly in and I took herinto my arms. We stood together in the darkness. My hands no longertrembled. I felt very happy and strong."Although I have tried to make everything clear I have not told youwhat the woman I married is like. I have emphasized, you see, the otherwoman. I make the blind statement that I love my wife, and to a man ofyour shrewdness that means nothing at all. To tell the truth, had I notstarted to speak of this matter I would feel more comfortable. It isinevitable that I give you the impression that I am in love with thetobacconist's wife. That's not true. To be sure I was very conscious ofher all during the week before my marriage, but after she had come tome at my apartment she went entirely out of my mind."Am I telling the truth? I am trying very hard to tell what happened tome. I am saying that I have not since that evening thought of the womanwho came to my apartment. Now, to tell the facts of the case, that isnot true. On that evening I went to my fiancee at nine, as she hadasked me to do in her letter. In a kind of way I cannot explain theother woman went with me. This is what I mean--you see I had beenthinking that if anything happened between me and the tobacconist'swife I would not be able to go through with my marriage. 'It is onething or the other with me,' I had said to myself."As a matter of fact I went to see my beloved on that evening filledwith a new faith in the outcome of our life together. I am afraid Imuddle this matter in trying to tell it. A moment ago I said the otherwoman, the tobacconist's wife, went with me. I do not mean she went infact. What I am trying to say is that something of her faith in her owndesires and her courage in seeing things through went with me. Is thatclear to you? When I got to my fiancee's house there was a crowd ofpeople standing about. Some were relatives from distant places I hadnot seen before. She looked up quickly when I came into the room. Myface must have been radiant. I never saw her so moved. She thought herletter had affected me deeply, and of course it had. Up she jumped andran to meet me. She was like a glad child. Right before the people whoturned and looked inquiringly at us, she said the thing that was in hermind. 'O, I am so happy,' she cried. 'You have understood. We will betwo human beings. We will not have to be husband and wife.'"As you may suppose everyone laughed, but I did not laugh. The tearscame into my eyes. I was so happy I wanted to shout. Perhaps youunderstand what I mean. In the office that day when I read the lettermy fiancee had written I had said to myself, 'I will take care of thedear little woman.' There was something smug, you see, about that. Inher house when she cried out in that way, and when everyone laughed,what I said to myself was something like this: 'We will take care ofourselves.' I whispered something of the sort into her ears. To tellyou the truth I had come down off my perch. The spirit of the otherwoman did that to me. Before all the people gathered about I held myfiancee close and we kissed. They thought it very sweet of us to be soaffected at the sight of each other. What they would have thought hadthey known the truth about me God only knows!"Twice now I have said that after that evening I never thought of theother woman at all. That is partially true but, sometimes in theevening when I am walking alone in the street or in the park as we arewalking now, and when evening comes softly and quickly as it has cometo-night, the feeling of her comes sharply into my body and mind. Afterthat one meeting I never saw her again. On the next day I was marriedand I have never gone back into her street. Often however as I amwalking along as I am doing now, a quick sharp earthy feeling takespossession of me. It is as though I were a seed in the ground and thewarm rains of the spring had come. It is as though I were not a man buta tree."And now you see I am married and everything is all right. My marriageis to me a very beautiful fact. If you were to say that my marriage isnot a happy one I could call you a liar and be speaking the absolutetruth. I have tried to tell you about this other woman. There is a kindof relief in speaking of her. I have never done it before. I wonder whyI was so silly as to be afraid that I would give you the impression Iam not in love with my wife. If I did not instinctively trust yourunderstanding I would not have spoken. As the matter stands I have alittle stirred myself up. To-night I shall think of the other woman.That sometimes occurs. It will happen after I have gone to bed. My wifesleeps in the next room to mine and the door is always left open. Therewill be a moon to-night, and when there is a moon long streaks of lightfall on her bed. I shall awake at midnight to-night. She will be lyingasleep with one arm thrown over her head."What is it that I am now talking about? A man does not speak of hiswife lying in bed. What I am trying to say is that, because of thistalk, I shall think of the other woman to-night. My thoughts will nottake the form they did during the week before I was married. I willwonder what has become of the woman. For a moment I will again feelmyself holding her close. I will think that for an hour I was closer toher than I have ever been to anyone else. Then I will think of the timewhen I will be as close as that to my wife. She is still, you see, anawakening woman. For a moment I will close my eyes and the quick,shrewd, determined eyes of that other woman will look into mine. Myhead will swim and then I will quickly open my eyes and see again thedear woman with whom I have undertaken to live out my life. Then I willsleep and when I awake in the morning it will be as it was that eveningwhen I walked out of my dark apartment after having had the mostnotable experience of my life. What I mean to say, you understand isthat, for me, when I awake, the other woman will be utterly gone."

The Other Woman was featured as TheShort Story of the Day on Tue, Jul 18, 2017

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