Filed under: short stories, Story Sundays | Tags: bone hinge, katie williams, literature, reading, short stories, story sundays
Story Sundays is a weekly feature at Fat Books & Thin Women. Always short stories, always ones available online for free.
Katie Williams’s “Bone Hinge” gives us, early, the image of the piece of bone that connects Sylvie to her sister Hattie: a “bit of bone and skin that joined Hattie and me at the base of our spines.” With Hattie pulling Sylvie along to meet her boyfriend behind a dye vat at their father’s company, it’s easy to expect some level of farce to come from all this. Sylvie is forced to “take quick tripping steps” to keep pace with her sister, who is always the one walking forwards, and when Hattie meets her boyfriend Matthew there are awkward and unintended touches, Sylvie there as an unwilling witness and participant in the couple’s romance.
Williams’s story is really, though, about the relationship between the two sisters, as it plays out through Hattie’s relationship with Matthew. Hattie and Matthew are hoping to elope, and to do so they have to find a match for Sylvie; the suggestion that Sylvie be a forced member of their marriage, with no husband of her own, would be enough to put an end to the whole relationship.
There are elements in this story that feel weakly presented. When describing their early life, Sylvie writes of a town that believes itself touched, in some mystical way, by the birth of these conjoined twins. “The night of our birth, a thunderstorm had cracked a tree in the courtyard of the new church, setting the building afire until it was no more than a charred sliver of steeple and smoking pews.” For years, the sisters would wake up to a yard full of dead crows, or even flocks of live crows, sent to fly at their heads. This image of the crows is briefly touched upon and reads as a half-completed gesture towards another side of this story. As easily as Sylvie might dismiss the idea that her birth was an event of some mystical importance, there are suggestions that she views her relationship with her sister as having some meaning beyond the physical.
The more fully explored side of this story is the relationship between Hattie and Sylvie, formed in such large part by the secret place that joins them, where the “skin of our backs descends into a V, like a bird’s wing does to its body – a bone hinge covered in smooth skin, our spines locked together at the base.” Sylvie allows Hattie to lead as they walk, preferring to see the world after its passed by her sister; here, there is the first hint of how divided Sylvie feels them to be, her sense that Hattie got the good and she the evil.
Sylvie doesn’t want to be pulled into her sister’s relationship with Matthew; nor does she have much interest in a relationship Hattie and Matthew have dreamed up for her and Matthew’s brother, Toby. To see how she reacts to her sister’s desire to elope, and to see her growing understanding of the ways sisters can be divided even when they are, physically, so close, is an almost painful thing; almost as much as Sylvie’s realization that the place where she and her sister are joined may not have as much meaning as she has assigned to it.