Beth stayed with Beebo that night and they sat up and talked through
most of it. Beebo told her about the two years she and Laura had lived
together, what a paradise it had been at first, what a red hell it had
become when Laura had fallen out of love.
“She was looking for a substitute for you when I met her,” Beebo
admitted. “When I turned out to be myself, not you, she was
disillusioned. She held it against me, in a way. And in another way,
after a while, I think she learned to love me for myself. But it was
never good enough. I was so much older; I’d done my running around and I
wanted to settle down. Laura was It as far as I was concerned. The end
of the trail. I was through looking over the field, through chasing
after new affairs.
“But for Laura it came too soon. She was too young. She hadn’t seen more
than a little corner of life and I wasn’t enough for her. She needed
variety, she needed to know other women, and that was more than I could
bear. And at the same time, she needed security. Somebody had to take
care of her, watch over her, provide for her. All of that. I wanted to
desperately, but I didn’t qualify. I was a woman and I was a
disappointing lover to boot. She needed a man, one who understood that
she was gay and would always be gay, and not interfere with that part of
her life.”
“Where did she meet him—her husband?” Beth asked. She was sitting
cross-legged on the floor in Beebo’s living room, drinking the coffee
Beebo had fixed for her, while Beebo sat on the couch above her with her
legs split casually over the long coffee table. She was still drinking
whiskey and water.
“She met him on a blind date,” Beebo said. “And a few weeks later he
introduced me to Laura. He lived down here at the time.”
“What’s his name?”
“Jack. Jack Mann.”
Beth memorized it. “But you and Laura lived together for a couple of
years before she married Jack?”
“Yeah. They loved each other all along, though. They got very close. The
worse things were between me and Laura, the closer they were between
Laura and Jack. She always ran to him when anything went wrong.”
“Was she _in_ love with him?”
“No. And he isn’t in love with her. Maybe that’s why they’re so happy.
No romance, no jealousy. No matter what passionate affairs they may be
having on the outside, their marriage is sacred to them. And it works.
It works a hell of a lot better than a lot of straight marriages I
know.”
“Do you mean Jack’s gay too?”
“Yes, honey. He’s gay.” Beebo looked down at her, and smiled. “He had
‘Beth’ problems when he married her, too. She was still thinking about
you even then. Used to drive him nuts. I remember he finally gave her a
lecture about it. Said you’d never see her again, you were gone out of
her life and probably married, and Laura had better grow up and realize
it.”
“Did she?” Beth asked shyly.
“I’m inclined to think she did,” Beebo said. “As a matter of fact, I
can’t help wondering what good it’ll do to open a closed chapter, Beth.
If it’s no good for Laura it can’t be much good for you.”
Beth hung her head, watching her cigarette burn and feeling the smoke
sting her eyes, without moving the thing or blowing at it.
“Maybe no good at all,” she admitted. “But I have to know. I’ve come so
far and I’ve had to face so much. I can’t run out now when I’m so close
to finding her. I wonder how she thinks of me now.”
“Probably pretty much the same way, _when_ she thinks of you.
Romanticized. You symbolized everything good, everything wise and
beautiful for her. You were an ideal love that, just by accident, wasn’t
so ideal after all. If you ever hurt her or crossed her up, you were
forgiven. As far as Jack and I could see you never did any wrong.”
Beth smiled ironically at her.
“I think she realizes now that you weren’t perfect, if only because you
were human. She’s not in love with you any more, but she still idealizes
you to some extent. That’s the way I see it, at least.”
“Is she still so beautiful?” Beth asked softly.
“Yes.” Beebo was watching her carefully, deeply interested in this
pretty young woman who had caused her such exasperation and heartache
years before. “Some people don’t think she _is_ beautiful, you know.”
“Some people are blind. She’s lovely—I mean, unless she’s changed?”
“No, not so much. Not to look at. But in other ways she’s changed a lot.
Remember, when you knew her before, you were the sophisticated one. You
were the one with experience and you taught Laura. Now it’s the other
way around. Laura’s the woman of the world and you’re the provincial
housewife. Do you want to start all over with her on that basis? Can
you?”
It was an acute observation. Beth had never thought of her relationship
with Laura. “Well, I—I’m not _that_ provincial,” she said in stammering
defense of herself. “I’ve been married, I have a couple of children.
That counts for some experience, doesn’t it?”
“Laura’s married too. Laura has a daughter six years old. And why the
hell did you lie to me about having children?”
Beth flushed crimson, overcome by the revelation of Laura’s maternity as
much as her own lie. After a moment’s confusion she said, “Beebo,
I—forgive me. I didn’t know you, I didn’t know whether to trust you. I—”
and she had to cry. It was the first time since she had met Beebo that
evening that her feelings unwound enough for her to let the tears come.
The storm was brief and hard but it cleared the air. “I love them
terribly, but I can’t live with them,” she confessed brokenly when she
could talk. “I left them with Charlie, my husband.”
“You ran away?” Beebo frowned at her.
“Sort of. He knew I was going; I didn’t try to hide it. But he doesn’t
know where I am now. He thinks I’m with my aunt and uncle in Chicago.”
“And where do they think you are?”
“God knows. I blew up at my uncle and when I left, I sneaked off like a
thief in the night.” Beebo tossed her a white linen handkerchief and
Beth blew her nose gratefully.
“That’s too bad, honey,” Beebo said gently. “You’re in a hell of a
situation. Me, I told off all my relatives twenty-five years ago, and
left before I had any obligations. They all predicted I’d go straight to
hell. But when I look back on it, I’m not sorry, strange to say. Some of
it’s been hell, all right. But some of it’s been ... wonderful. Just
wonderful. Makes the rest of it worth the pain. Like the first year with
Laura.”
Beth gazed up at her and caught a faraway smile on her face. “You must
be lonely, Beebo,” she said. “Living alone like this. Or aren’t you
alone?”
“I live alone,” Beebo said. “But I have a lot of company. A lot of
drinking buddies.”
“That still makes you pretty lonely, doesn’t it?” Beth knew that
loneliness, and she sympathized eagerly.
“Yes, honey, it does. I had a couple of dogs, once. Dachshunds. They
helped for a while. But they died.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Actually, they were—killed.”
“How awful.” And Beth sensed a whole story, a whole miniature tragedy
behind the words. But she dared not press Beebo for it.
“What’s Laura’s little girl’s name?” Beth asked.
Beebo came back from her reverie and smiled at her, pouring herself
another inch of whiskey from the bottle by her feet. “Elizabeth,” she
said. “What else?”
“For me?” Beth said.
Beebo nodded. “They call her Betsy, though. Jack put his foot down on
Beth.”
And oddly it struck them both funny and they laughed together, and Beth
found herself reaching for Beebo’s hand. Just to grasp, just to hold for
an instant in gratitude. “God, I’m so glad I found you,” she said. “I
was so depressed. It all seemed so hopeless.”
“I can imagine,” Beebo said with a humorous edge in her voice, “if Nina
Spicer was showing you around town.”
“Is she like that with everybody?”
“She tries to be. Too bad. She’s a shrewd girl and she’s made quite a
success of this writing bit. But she has to analyze everybody. She
learns enough about human nature to use people but not enough to help
them. It’s not in her nature to give a damn what happens to them after
they cease to amuse her. She just likes to pull the strings and see them
hop. That’s not saying she can’t teach you a few things, Beth. But she
can crack your ego at the same time and it’s not worth the aches and
pains involved.”
“Are most gay people like that?” Beth asked.
“No. But a lot of them are. Too many. That’s the most valuable lesson
Nina can teach you, honey. It doesn’t last long in the gay world and
when it’s over it keeps on hurting for a long time. You’re on your own.
You watch out for yourself. You haven’t any of the safeguards or the
consolations or the help that straight people have. There’s nobody you
can run crying to when you’re the loser.”
“Nina taught me something else. I’m gay,” Beth said.
“Oh, hell,” Beebo said and laughed good-naturedly. “You learn that
yourself, nobody teaches you.”
“She said if I cut off my hair and went to live in the Village I’d be a
butch.”
“Good God, you’re no butch!” Beebo exclaimed. “She’s filling you full of
bull just to amuse herself.”
“I thought so,” Beth sighed. “But I’m so damned ignorant. I’m not sure
of anything. I thought maybe Laura could help me understand myself. Show
me what I am.”
“Nobody’s going to draw you any diagrams, sweetheart,” Beebo said.
“I’ve been wondering about it for all these years. Wondering if I did
the right thing in marrying Charlie and leaving Laura.”
“Why did you marry him?”
“I loved him.”
“Do you still?”
“I don’t know. Yes, in a way. I hate him too, though. There were times
when I think I could have killed him.”
“How do you know it won’t be like that with Laura?” Beebo asked. “How do
you know you weren’t cut out to be a loner? Bisexual, maybe. Or the kind
who can only love from a distance, no matter which sex, no matter how
much passion?”
And Beth had to turn away from Beebo’s brilliant, absorbing eyes, too
troubled by her ideas to face her squarely. To change Beebo’s train of
thought she asked, “Why doesn’t Nina like you?”
“I jilted her once. A few years ago. And I don’t read her books. And, I
suppose, she didn’t want me to waltz off with you tonight. Sort of lets
the air out of her balloon.”
Beth smiled silently into her near-empty coffee cup. “Beebo,” she said.
“Will you tell me where Jack and Laura live?”
“Made up your mind?” Beebo said.
“Yes.”
“You’re going to see her?”
“Yes.”
“In spite of all the pitfalls?”
“I’d walk through hell to see her,” Beth whispered.
Unexpectedly Beebo reached over, putting a hand on each of Beth’s
shoulders and pulling her back so that she leaned against the couch
between Beebo’s knees. The hands were strong and firm as a boy’s,
disconcerting in the warm grip. Beth could feel Beebo looking down on
the top of her head and she wished she could see her face.
“Okay, honey,” she heard Beebo say. “I’ll call them and tell them you’re
coming.”
“Oh, God, no!” Beth cried. “No, Beebo. Please. I don’t want her to know
in advance. I want to surprise her. If she knows she’ll change things,
she’ll clean the house, she’ll fix a big dinner, she’ll have something
fixed to say to me that won’t be genuine. It just won’t be the same.
Please, let me surprise her.”
“She won’t thank me for that,” Beebo quipped. “But if that’s the way you
want it.”
“That’s the way.”
“Okay, okay,” Beebo sighed. “They’re up at 528 North Lexington. Eighth
floor. His name is J.F. Mann. And Beth—just for the record—she’s
interested in somebody right now. I don’t know how seriously.”
“Okay. It’s okay. That’s something I expected,” Beth said. She turned
her head to Beebo’s leg and kissed it fervently, impulsively. “Thank
you,” she said, and experienced a strange, unexpected flash of pleasure
at her own boldness, at Beebo’s nearness and warmth.
She stayed the rest of the night, sleeping in spite of her excitement.
Beebo gave her the bed and slept on the couch in the living room. She
had gone out by the time Beth got up the next morning, but there was a
note for her to help herself to some breakfast and to keep in touch with
Beebo. Beth scribbled down her room number and phone at the Beaton on
Beebo’s telephone pad and drank some orange juice. Her mouth was dry
with excitement and she found it hard to eat, but she made herself take
something. At the same time she riffled through the pages of Beebo’s
telephone directory. And there it was. There it had been all along, but
without Beebo’s help she wouldn’t have found it. “J.F. Mann,” and the
address. Beth tore another sheet of paper off the phone pad and made a
note of the number, slipping it into her purse.
Before she left she cleaned up her dishes and the ones Beebo had left,
including the coffee cup and the whiskey glass from the night before.
She made the bed, thinking as she did it that Laura must have slept in
this bed too, once. After that she straightened up the living room. It
wasn’t the same as keeping house for Charlie. She actually enjoyed the
tasks, enjoyed the feeling that Beebo would come home to a clean house
and a tidy kitchen, and it would be due to Beth’s care.
She took a long look at the rooms before she closed the front door after
herself, and she had the feeling that sooner or later, some day, she
would be back. She hoped so. She liked Beebo, she had learned from her,
and it hadn’t been the sharp, painful sort of lesson Nina Spicer taught.
But just as effective. Perhaps more so.