Laura went home. She arrived before ten, but Marcie wasn’t back yet.
Laura put a book she had been reading on Marcie’s bed and climbed into
her own bed. She tried to read herself, but she couldn’t. An hour went
by, and no Marcie. Nervously, Laura shut her book and dropped it to the
floor. She got up and went into the bathroom to brush her teeth, and
remembered she had already done it.
Then she went to the phone. She didn’t know what was coming over her.
She only felt a deep will-defying unhappiness. She pulled out the phone
book and looked up the number of the McAlton Hotel. She sat for a moment
with the book open in her lap, unable to move. Then she reached slowly
for the phone.
Suddenly it rang. Laura screamed, a small quick cry of extreme surprise.
Her heart had taken a tremendous leap at the piercing bell sound in that
still apartment. She let it ring twice more while she caught her breath.
_It must be Marcie_, she thought. _Maybe she’s in trouble._ She lifted
the receiver. “Hello?”
“Hello, Bo-peep.”
Laura’s heart gave another bound. She felt the sweat break out. “Beebo?”
she said faintly.
“How are you, sweetheart? I hear you were looking for me tonight.”
“You didn’t waste any time.” Her voice was sharp.
“I hate to keep a lady waiting. What’s on your mind?”
“I just dropped in for a drink. I was down there in the Village to see
Jack and I just wanted to pay you back.” She spoke in fits and starts.
“You don’t owe me a thing, Bo-peep. Not a thing.”
“A drink.” Laura hated to owe anybody anything. She was meticulous about
her debts, however small the sum.
“You’re right.” Laura could feel her smile. “I nearly forgot. Okay
lover, you owe me one drink.”
“Beebo, I can’t talk now, really.”
“You’re doing fine. What’s the matter, Marcie breathing down your neck?”
“It’s not that.”
“You don’t have to say you love me, you know. Just say you’ll meet me
tomorrow night. About eight.”
“No.”
“Don’t be late, doll. I’ll call Marcie and ask her where the hell you
are.”
“You wouldn’t! You won’t! Damn you, Beebo!”
“I would and I will.” She laughed. “Eight on the dot.”
“I won’t be there.”
“Want to bet?”
Laura hung up on her. She was trembling. Angrily she slammed the heavy
phone back into place, switched out the bedroom light, and got into bed.
The black night settled around her but it brought more restless tossing
than repose. The hours slipped by. No Marcie. No sleep. Only an endless
bitter reviewing of what her father had done to her; the look on the
clerk’s face when he gave her the message; the impotent fury and shame
that besieged her. At last she turned the light back on and began to
pace the room. The electric clock on Marcie’s dresser said two-thirty.
Laura wondered whether to call Burr. Or Jack. She was getting afraid for
Marcie. But nobody knew how to reach her. There was nothing to do but
wait.
It was a few minutes past three when Marcie came in. Laura had left the
living room light on for her and she heard her come in laughing and
heard a male voice answer her. Not Burr’s voice. Somebody else. A deep
mature voice. Laura peeked out through the crack in the kitchen door but
couldn’t see him. Marcie was giggling, as if she were tight, and pushing
him away. Laura could see her now and then.
Marcie said, “I’ll call my roommate. She’ll make you go home.”
“I can’t go home tonight. I live in Chicago.”
“That’s where she’s from!”
“Who?”
“My roommate.”
“To hell with her. Come here, Baby.”
“No!” High as she was, she nevertheless sounded a little scared. She had
stopped laughing.
Laura threw a coat hastily over her pajamas and went into the living
room. A large man, partly bald and handsome in a heavy featured way, had
Marcie wrapped in a bear hug and was trying to drag her to the couch.
“All right,” said Laura sharply. “Get out.”
She startled them both so much that they froze where they were. The man
stared at her. He was drunk, and his balance wasn’t the best. Laura,
pale and silver blond, her long hair falling down her shoulders, her
face strange and sensitive and imperious, looked like an apparition to
him. Without taking his eyes off her he asked Marcie, “Who the hell is
_that_?”
“My roommate.” Marcie took advantage of his interest to slip free. Laura
took her arm firmly and sent her through the kitchen door. Then she
turned back to the man.
“All right, you,” she said as if he were a servant. “Out.”
The impudence of it amused him and angered him at the same time. “You
can’t talk to me like that,” he said.
She advanced on him briskly, pulling the door open sharply and facing
him. “It’s my home and I’ll speak as I please,” she said. She looked as
cold and unapproachable as she was hot and angry. He stared at her, not
sure how to take her, and then came toward her to put a hand on her
shoulder.
“Marcie’s no good,” he said confidentially. “Let’s you and me—”
Laura swept his hand off her shoulder. “Get out of here or I’ll call the
police,” she said.
He got mad. “Jesus, what a chilly little bitch you are!” he growled.
“Get out,” Laura said, so cold, so controlled, that she froze him into
submission. She shut the door after him, resisting the urge to slam it.
_Dear God_, she thought intensely. _If I could do that to my father.
Just once._
“Laura? It was just a party, Laur,” Marcie said. “We went out after
dinner. Just for kicks. He got sort of out of hand. Thanks, Laur, I
don’t know what I’d have done.”
“Come on to bed.” Laura turned and walked toward her and Marcie preceded
her into the bedroom. It occurred to her then that she was behaving with
Marcie much as Beth used to behave with her. She was asserting herself,
taking the lead. She liked it; with Marcie, anyway. She felt her
influence and reveled in it. A feeling of tremendous strength swept
through her when the man turned and left, like the other poor demented
little fellow who pestered her on the subway. Only he was such a
weakling he hardly counted. She had a mental image of herself treating
Merrill Landon that way, and it worked a strange exaltation in her. She
smiled.
Marcie grinned at her crookedly. “I thought you’d be sore,” she said.
“No. No, of course not. Why should I be?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because I felt kind of guilty going out with
somebody besides Burr. But I had fun. Up to the end, anyway. I wouldn’t
have minded that if he hadn’t slobbered so much.” She giggled and Laura
ignored what she said. They were standing less than a foot from each
other and suddenly Laura reached for her and gave her a little hug. “I’m
not mad. I’m just glad you’re all right,” she said.
Marcie submitted, but she seemed embarrassed, and Laura quickly released
her. With the release came a letdown, a loss of strength and confidence.
She slipped quietly into bed and spent the hours till dawn wrestling
with the bedclothes.
* * * * *
Laura didn’t feel much brighter than Marcie in the morning. She got to
work on time, but all she wanted to do was sleep. _I’ve got to catch up.
I’ve got to catch up_, she kept telling herself. _Less than three weeks
and Jean’ll be back. And I haven’t done a really good day’s work since
she left. Even if they like me, they can’t keep me on as a charity
case._
The episode at the McAlton flamed up in her mind and gave her an angry
energy through most of the morning. Sarah said nothing to her, but she
kept looking at her over her typewriter, apparently afraid to bring up
the date subject again. It wasn’t till Jack called that Laura even
remembered it.
“All set,” he said. “Carl Jensen can go. Friday night. Dinner and a
show. What’s Sarah’s number?”
Laura got it from her and made her face light up with expectation. Jack
put Carl on the phone, and Laura gave her end to Sarah. It gave her a
momentary lift to see somebody else stammering with pleasure and
anticipation. But the day she lived through was endless, bleak with
undone work, dragging will, impotent anger.
* * * * *
“You’re late,” Marcie said when Laura walked in. “I wanted you to tell
me about that book Burr brought over last week.”
“Nothing to tell.” Laura felt too low to talk, to joke, even to eat. She
picked listlessly at her food. After a while Marcie fell silent, too.
When the dishes were done Marcie said, “I called Burr. Broke our date
tonight.” She looked expectantly at Laura, as if this were a significant
revelation, and she wanted a proper reaction.
But Laura only said, “Oh?” and walked into the bedroom.
Marcie followed her. “What’s the matter, Laur?” she said. And when Laura
didn’t answer, she asked, “Bad day?”
“Um-hm. Bad day.” Laura lay down on her bed, face downward, one leg
hanging over the edge, her mind wholly occupied with her father: her
hatred, her stifled love for him, her fear of him.
“Talk to me, Laura,” Marcie said, coming over to sit next to her.
“Not tonight.”
“Please. You said you would.”
“I can’t, Marcie. I can’t talk. I’m too tired.” She rolled over and
looked at her. “Don’t look like that,” she said. “I’m—I’m worried about
my job, that’s all. I’ll be all right.”
“What’s wrong with your job?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh, Laura! God! Make sense!” Marcie exclaimed. But when she evoked no
response she dropped it with a sigh. “Let’s go out on the roof,” she
said, “and get some fresh air. It’s a beautiful night.”
“Looks like rain.”
“How would you know? You’re staring at the ceiling.”
“It did, earlier.”
“That’s what’s beautiful about it. Maybe there’ll be thunder. I love to
stand naked in the rain.” She glanced down slowly at Laura.
But Laura turned back on her stomach without a word. A terrible apathy
nailed her to the bed. Not even the nearness of Marcie could arouse her.
They sat quietly for a few minutes, Laura lost in herself, and Marcie
searching for a way to cheer her up. The phone rang.
“I’ll get it,” Marcie said, and got up. She walked across the room and
picked up the receiver when Laura suddenly remembered Beebo. She sat up
in a rush.
“No,” Marcie was saying, “I can’t. I’m sorry. I don’t want to argue, not
any more. I’ve had enough, that’s all. I won’t talk to you, Burr. No,
it’s not her fault, it’s nobody’s fault.” She looked at Laura stretched
out again on her bed. “That has nothing to do with it. No. Goodnight,
Burr.”
She hung up and stood for a moment motionless, watching Laura, who lay
with her face turned away, apparently relaxed. Burr was getting jealous,
impatient. He was ready to accuse anybody of anything to get Marcie’s
favor back. Their phone conversations were little more than arguments
which Marcie terminated by hanging up on him. But he wouldn’t be put off
for long.
Marcie sat down on her own bed with a book, the one she meant to ask
Laura about. She stared at the pages without reading, and wondered about
her moody roommate.
Laura was watching her wristwatch. It was two minutes fast. She lay
still, but she was alert, poised to jump. At two minutes past eight, by
her watch, the phone rang again. “It’s for me,” she told Marcie, who had
no intention of going for it. Laura came across the room and sat on
Marcie’s bed.
“Hello?” she said into the receiver.
“Hi, lover. Where are you?”
“At home,” Laura said sarcastically. “Where else?”
“You want me to come over?”
“I’ll be down in a few minutes. I was delayed.”
“Okay, but make it fast. I’ll call again at eight-thirty. And every ten
minutes after that.”
Laura hung up without a further word and turned to look at Marcie. “I
met him at work,” she said, her face flushing. “He’s been pestering me.
I don’t want to see him.” She didn’t know what she was going to do.
“Oh,” said Marcie. _Then why all the fuss?_ She looked curiously at
Laura’s pink face. Laura turned away and began to walk up and down the
room, feeling as if there were a bomb sealed in her breast, ticking,
about to go off. She knew her nails were cutting her underarms, yet she
hardly felt them. It was an expression of terrible tension in her.
Suddenly she whipped the closet door open and pulled out her coat.
Marcie, watching her, said quickly, “Where’re you going?”
“I’ll be back early,” Laura said, heading for the door, propelled by the
tight violence that was boiling inside her.
“Laura!” Marcie jumped up and followed her. “Damn it, Laur, please tell
me, I’m worried about you.”
Laura turned abruptly at the door. “I’m just going out for a little
while,” she said. “I won’t be late.” She tried to leave, but Marcie
grabbed her arms.
“You’re not fit to go anywhere, Laura. I never saw you so upset,” Marcie
said. “Except once. And you—you spent the night with Jack that time. It
was my fault. Is this my fault? Am I driving you out again?”
“No, no, nothing’s your fault.” Laura covered her face with her hand for
a minute and when Marcie’s arms went around her to comfort her, she
wept. “Please don’t let me go,” she whispered. “I mean—God!—I mean, let
me go. Let me go, Marcie.” She began to resist.
But the curiosity in Marcie had taken over. “You’re trembling all over.
Come to bed, Laur. Come on, honey, you’re in no shape to go anywhere.
Come tell me about it,” she coaxed, trying to guide Laura away from the
door. But Laura knew what was in store for her if she obeyed. She
uncovered her face to gaze for a moment at Marcie, so close to her, so
tantalizing. And that terrible storm brewing inside her made her feel as
if she might do any wild thing that her body demanded of her. She was
afraid.
“Please,” Marcie said softly. “I’ll give you a rubdown, I’m a great
masseuse. My father taught me how.” She smiled. “Please, Laur.”
“Your father?”
“Yes.”
“Do you love him very much?”
“Yes.” Marcie frowned at her.
“And he loves you?”
“Of course.”
“You’re lucky, Marcie.”
“That’s the way it’s supposed to be, Laur. I’m not lucky. I’m just
normal. Ordinary, I mean.”
Laura stared at her. The emotion in her simmered dangerously near the
top. With a sudden swift movement, Laura kissed Marcie’s cheek lightly,
leaving the wet of her tears on Marcie’s face, and then whispered, “So
lucky ... so lucky ...” Then she turned and ran down the stairs to the
elevator.
Marcie sat down on a living room chair and put her head in her hands and
tried to think. Laura’s strange behaviour made her tickle inside. She
felt close to the storm that had barely brushed past her, and yet she
remained untouched. There was only the wet on her cheek as a token, and
she brushed it off, inexplicably embarrassed.
* * * * *
Laura made the taxi driver take her past the McAlton. She counted to the
fourteenth floor, as nearly as she could figure it, and stared at the
golden blocks of windows, and wondered which ones opened into 1402. And
if Merrill Landon was in his room.
She walked in quickly when she reached The Cellar, with no hesitation,
and made for the bar. It was a little past eight-thirty by her watch.
She hoped anxiously that Beebo hadn’t called Marcie again. She saw her
at the far end of the bar talking to two very pretty young girls. They
looked like teenagers. Laura was dismayed at the flash of jealousy that
went through her. She walked right up to Beebo, without being seen,
until she stood next to her. She took a seat beside her, watching Beebo
while she talked, until one of the teens nudged her and nodded curiously
at Laura. Beebo turned and broke into a smile.
“Well, Bo-peep,” she said. “Didn’t hear you come in. How are you?”
“Am I interrupting something?” Laura looked away.
Beebo laughed. “Not a thing. This is Josie. And this is Bella. Laura.”
She leaned back on her stool so they could all see each other.
The younger girls made effusive greetings, the better to exhibit
luscious smiles, but Laura only said, “Hello,” to them briefly. Beebo
laughed again, and leaned closer to her.
“Jealous, baby?” she said.
“I owe you one drink,” Laura snapped. “What do you want?”
“Whisky and water.”
Laura nodded at the bartender.
“Is that all you came for, Bo-peep?”
“Don’t talk like that, Beebo, you make me sick.” Laura still wouldn’t
look at her.
“I didn’t last time.”
“Yes you did. I hope you’ve bought your friends there one of Dutton’s
cartoons. It’s the quickest way to get rid of them I know.”
“Why didn’t it work with you?” Beebo laughed softly in Laura’s ear. “You
came home with me that night, if you recall.”
Laura turned angrily away from her. “What happened was in spite of the
God damn juvenile cartoon, not because of it. I nearly walked out when
he gave it to me.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I should have.”
The bartender came up and Laura started to order. She wanted to buy
Beebo the drink and have one quick one herself, and then get out. Go
home. Forget she had come. But before she could give an order, Beebo
said, “Come home with me, Laura.”
“No.”
“Come on.” Beebo spun her slowly around on the barstool with one arm.
Laura looked reluctantly at her for the first time since she had been
noticed. Beebo smiled down at her, her short black hair and wide brow
making her face more boyish even than Laura remembered. She was
remarkably handsome. Laura was deeply ashamed of what she was feeling,
sitting there on the barstool, letting herself be influenced by this
girl she tried so hard to despise.
“Why don’t you invite Bella?” she said.
“She’s busy.”
Laura’s cheeks went hot with fury, and she shook Beebo’s arm off and
started to get up, to walk past her, to get out. But Beebo caught her,
laughing deep in her throat, thoroughly amused. “By Jesus, you _are_
jealous!” she said. “Sorry, baby, I had to know. Come on, let’s go.”
Laura, who was pulling against her, suddenly found herself going in the
same direction as Beebo, heading for the door, all her resistance
dissipated.
“Beebo, I didn’t come here for that! I came to keep you from calling
Marcie. To pay you back that drink.”
“I want you to owe me that drink all the rest of your life, Bo-peep.”
Laura gasped. Then she walked hurriedly ahead of Beebo, trying to get
far enough ahead to escape. In the faces around the tables she spotted
the slim little blonde who had approached her before about Beebo. She
was laughing and the sudden humiliation that filled Laura sent her
running up the steps to the street. But Beebo was close behind her, and
Laura felt her arms come around her from behind, and Beebo’s lips on her
neck, and her own knees going shaky.
“No, no, oh Beebo, please! Not here, not here _please_.”
“Laura, darling.” Beebo kissed her again. “Not here is right. Come on.”
She put an arm around her and led her away as she had before, and
suddenly, strangely, Laura felt like running. She felt like running with
all her strength until they reached Beebo’s apartment. For there was no
doubt about it any longer, that was where they were going.
She wanted her arms around Beebo, their hot bare bodies pressed together
as before. Almost without realizing it she began to speed up and then to
run. Instantly Beebo was after her, then beside her, laughing that pagan
laugh of hers. She caught a handful of Laura’s streaming hair, silver in
the street light, and pulled her to a stop, whirling her around. In
almost the same gesture she swept her into a dark doorway and kissed
her, still laughing.
“You’re wonderful,” she said in a rough whisper. “You’re nuts. I love
you.”
“No no no no no,” Laura moaned, but she returned Beebo’s kisses
passionately. It was Beebo who had to quit suddenly.
“Oh, God, Laura, stop. Stop!” she said. “We can’t come in the streets.
Come on, baby.” She dragged her on for another two blocks. Laura walked
as if she were drunk. She had no liquor in her, but she was not sober.
Not at all. She felt punchy. She half ran, half skipped, to keep up with
Beebo’s stride. For the last two blocks they ran as fast as they could
go. Beebo led her into Cordelia Street, and through the green door into
the court.
Inside the door, standing in the little court, the urgency left Laura.
She stood gasping for breath, leaning against the brick wall by the
door. She was where she wanted to be, next to a fascinating woman whom
she wanted to make love to. It was a huge physical need, an emotional
hypnotism, that drew her to Beebo. After the wild race she had just come
through Laura wanted suddenly to slow down. To tease, to tantalize. She
felt like somebody entirely different. Not the tightly controlled Laura
who lived anxiously with Marcie, with an uncertain job, with the spectre
of a hated father. Not the nerve-tortured cautious girl her roommate
knew, but a warm excited woman on the verge of the ultimate intimacy.
She wanted it, she asked for it, she accepted it. She stood watching
Beebo, her eyes enormous with it, her nostrils flared, her lips parted.
Beebo came toward her, smiling, but Laura slipped away.
She moved, almost glided, to a circle of benches in the center of the
court. Beebo followed her. And again when she reached for her, Laura
slipped around the benches. Beebo reached again, and Laura faded out of
her grasp. And suddenly Beebo was on fire.
“Come here, come here, baby. Pretty baby. Pretty Laura,” she chanted
like a spell. But Laura eluded her, moving just a little faster each
time, until they were running again, and Laura felt the laughter coming
out of her, soft and light at first, but growing wilder, uncontrollable.
She fled, inches from Beebo’s hands, into the dark hallway, and
scrambled up the stairs, losing her footing, and nearly losing her
freedom, twice. Beebo was so close behind her near the top that she
could hear her breath. With a little shriek of unbearable excitement,
she fell against Beebo’s door, and felt within a second Beebo’s weight
come hard against her. The laughter burst out of her again until Beebo
got the door open and they almost fell into the living room.
Nix was all over them instantly, but Beebo, dragging Laura by the neck
and Nix by his collar, locked him in the bathroom. Then she turned on
Laura. Laura, seeing her, suddenly stopped laughing. Beebo looked
unearthly. Her black hair was tumbled, her cheeks were crimson, her
chest heaved. But it was her eyes that almost frightened Laura.
Laura let her jacket drop from her shoulders slowly, provocatively, and
Beebo approached her. They stood motionless, so close that just the tips
of Laura’s breasts touched Beebo, and they stood that way, without
moving, until Laura shut her eyes, letting her head rock back on her
shoulders, and groaned.
“Do it, Beebo,” she said. “Do it. I can’t stand it, do it to me.”
“Beg me. Beg me, baby.”
Laura’s eyes opened. She didn’t know how hard her breath was coming, how
strange and wonderful she looked with all her inhibitions burning up in
her own flame of desire. “Beebo, Beebo, take me,” she groaned.
Still Beebo didn’t move. Her breath was hot and pure on Laura’s face
when she spoke. “When I start, Laura,” she said slowly, “I’m never going
to stop.” She put her hands against the wall over Laura’s head and
leaned on them, her eyes boring into Laura’s, her body closing gently in
on Laura’s, pressing. “Never,” she whispered.
“Do it, Beebo. God! Do it!”
“I’ll never stop. Never.” Her lips grazed Laura’s brow.
Laura shook all over. She couldn’t talk, except to repeat Beebo’s name
over and over and over, as if she were in a trance. Beebo’s hands came
slowly over her hair, her face, her breasts, her waist, her hips. And
then one strong arm went around her and Laura groaned. They sank to the
floor, wracked with passion, kissing each other ravenously, tearing at
each other’s clothes.
* * * * *
They never heard Nix’s indignant barking from the bathroom, or the phone
when it rang a half hour later. They never felt the chill of the rainy
night nor the hard discomfort of the floor where they lay. Or the phone
when it rang again. And later, yet again. It was not until late morning
and brilliant sunshine invaded the room that they were aware of anything
but themselves.
Once again it was Laura who woke up first. She was too bewildered to
think straight at first, and the sight of Beebo, turning over slowly and
opening her eyes, did nothing to straighten her out. Physically she felt
wonderful. For a few moments she luxuriated in her body, letting her
mind go blank.
She rubbed her hands gently over herself and discovered a bruise on her
thigh. The little ache gave her a sudden hard thrill and she remembered
how Beebo made the bruise with her mouth. She had to fight hard against
the need to roll over on Beebo and start loving her all over again. She
touched the small bruise once more and felt the same shameless pleasure.
She stretched, more for Beebo’s benefit than her own.
Beebo caught her and pulled her down and rubbed her black hair against
Laura’s breasts. Laura laughed and struggled with her.
“Beebo, I’ve got to get up. I have to get to work.”
“To hell with work. This is love.”
“Don’t keep me, Beebo. This job means the world to me. I don’t want to
be late.” She spoke the truth, yet she had no idea of how she was going
to get up and get out.
“What time do you think it is, baby?”
“I don’t know.”
Beebo peered over her head at the dresser clock. “Eleven-thirty,” she
said.
Laura gasped and tried to get off the floor, the surprise giving her
impetus, but Beebo held her. “You’re going nowhere, Bo-peep,” she said.
Her tone, her self-assurance, brought out the fight in Laura.
“I’ve got to get there. You don’t know how far behind we are. I could
lose my job. And if my father ever—” She stopped, still squirming to get
up. She got as far as her knees but Beebo grasped her wrists and held
her there.
“I said, you’re not going anywhere, baby,” she said, and she wasn’t
kidding.
“Beebo, be reasonable. Please. You can’t know how important it is to
me.” It was suddenly important in a new way, too; it meant distance
between her and Beebo. She was vaguely afraid that Beebo was strong
enough to overwhelm her, to dominate her life. She needed something else
to keep her perspective, her independence.
“You don’t know how important _you_ are to _me_,” Beebo returned. “What
the hell, you’re half a day late already. Call ’em and tell ’em you’re
sick.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t lie worth a damn, Beebo.”
“You can say ‘I’m sick’ can’t you? It’s a cinch, I do it all the time.
Come on, let me hear you say it.”
“I can’t. I turn bright red when I lie.”
Beebo released her and turned over on her stomach, laughing. “Jesus,
Laur, you could turn bright green. Who’s going to see you over the
phone? Do your damn radiologists have X-ray eyes?”
Laura was on her feet and heading for the phone in Beebo’s kitchen. She
dialed the office, while Beebo got up and followed her to listen.
“Sarah?” Laura said.
“Laura! Are you all right?”
“Yes. I’m all right. I’ll be down as fast as I can get there. I’m
terribly sorry. Is Dr. Hollingsworth mad?”
“No. You know him. He’s awfully nice about these things. He did ask if
you called in, though. He asked twice. Are you sick?”
She looked at Beebo, who grinned at her. “Yes, I’m sick,” she said,
setting her chin.
“Well, gee, maybe you’d better not come in, then.”
“No, I’ll be all right.” She glared at Beebo who was laughing at her red
cheeks. “I’ll be in right away.” She hung up and brushed past Beebo
haughtily without looking at her.
“Laura,” said Beebo, coming after her, her arms crossed over her chest.
“You’re not going to work.”
Laura picked up her wrinkled clothes and said, “Do you have an iron?”
“You won’t need it.”
“I can’t go out like this.” Laura held up her rumpled dress, trying to
shake it out.
“Then you just can’t go out.” Beebo stretched out on the bed and made a
clucking noise at her. “Poor baby,” she said.
“Why is it you’re such an angel in bed and a bitch out of bed?” Laura
snapped.
For answer, Beebo only lay on her back and laughed at her. Laura looked
at her lithe body and after a moment she had to turn away to keep from
lying down beside her. “I don’t even like you, Beebo,” she said harshly,
hoping it would hurt. “I don’t know why I can’t keep away from you.”
“It’s because I’m such an angel in bed, Bo-peep,” Beebo said. “That’s
all you care about. That’s all you want from me.”
Laura whirled and threw one of her shoes at her. “Bitch!” she exploded.
The hurt had backfired. Beebo spoke the truth. And then Laura turned
away to hide the surprise she always felt when the passion in her burst
to the surface. In silent embarrassment she slipped into her panty
girdle, burningly aware of Beebo’s amused stare while she pulled it over
her hips.
“I wouldn’t bother, baby,” Beebo said lazily.
“Why not?” Laura wouldn’t look at her.
“Number one, I hate the damn things. Number two, you don’t need one.
Number three, you can’t go to work in a girdle. Period. And that’s all
the clothes you’re going to get.”
“What?” Laura turned around.
Beebo had gotten off the bed and with two or three sweeping gestures she
grabbed Laura’s clothes and headed for the bathroom.
“Beebo, what are you doing? What’s the matter with you? Give me those
things! Beebo!” Laura tugged at her but Beebo, laughing, was too much
for her. Nix burst out of the bathroom as Beebo shouldered in. She
turned on the shower full force and threw the clothes over Laura’s head
into the drink. And while Laura was still spluttering at her she threw
Laura in, too, gently, dumping her on the clothes. Everything,
everybody, was soaked.
“Beebo, you animal! You’re impossible!” Laura said furiously. She turned
off the water angrily and snatched up her clothes, wringing them out
into the tub. She was trembling with anger. She faced Beebo with a
crimson face and threw the clothes at her.
“Take the girdle off, Bo-peep,” said Beebo with unconcern. She threw the
clothes over a wooden drying rack. “It doesn’t do a thing for you.”
Outraged, Laura tried to scratch her, but Beebo pinned her back against
the bathroom door and kissed her. Laura bit her and only made her laugh.
With a feeling of excitement so strong it almost made her sick, Laura
knew what was coming.
“No!” she exclaimed, suddenly sobbing. “No, I won’t! No!” But it was
submissive, helpless. Beebo forced her to her knees. Standing
spreadlegged beside her, she put her strong hands behind Laura’s neck
and pressed Laura’s face into her belly. “I said I’d never stop,
Bo-peep. I said never, remember?”
“Please, Beebo ...” Frustration and desire were both so strong in Laura
now that she was nearly out of her mind. Her weakness had got her again,
and Beebo would make the most of it.
* * * * *
It was late afternoon before she called Marcie. She had left under such
peculiar circumstances that she was afraid of what Marcie must be
thinking. She didn’t want to call. Marcie was angry with her, to Laura’s
surprise.
“You told me you were coming right back,” she said.
Laura was bewildered. “I meant to,” she said. “I swear, Marcie.”
“You lied to me.”
“No, I didn’t, I just didn’t know—I mean—”
“Don’t lie to me any more, Laura. It makes me sick. I thought we were
finally getting close to each other. I thought we were finally going to
be friends.” She sounded upset.
“But Marcie, we are.”
“I know where you went, Laura.”
Laura went white, and Beebo, who was lounging around the kitchen making
dinner, turned to watch her with a frown. “What do you mean, Marcie?”
Laura said.
“I nearly lost my mind,” she said. “I would have called the police and
made a fool of myself. But I called Jack first, thank God. Laura, why
won’t you tell me the truth? Why won’t you just admit that I make you
nervous? This isn’t the first time I’ve driven you over to Jack’s. If
you don’t tell me what I’m doing wrong how can I ever do anything
right?” Her voice broke. “I feel as if I’m making your life intolerable.
As if you’d rather move in with Jack and live in sin than put up with
me. You might as well, you spend so much time in his bed.”
“Marcie! Marcie, I don’t!” Laura was thunderstruck.
“I’ve already talked to him, so don’t deny it, Laura.”
“Marcie, honey, listen to me. I—” She looked up at Beebo and the look on
Beebo’s face silenced her. “Marcie, we’ll have a long talk tonight. I’ll
try to explain it to you. We can’t talk over the phone.”
There was a brief pause on Marcie’s end. Then she said, “Are you at
Jack’s now?”
“I—no—I’m at the office.”
“You must have just gotten there. I’ve been trying to get you all
afternoon.”
Laura got more bewildered, more tongue-tied, the more she lied. “Marcie,
I can’t talk now,” she said urgently. “Please. I’ll come right home.
I’ll explain.”
“All right, Laura. But I’ll tell you right now, I’m ready to move out if
you want me to. I’m sick and tired of getting on your nerves and not
knowing why.”
Laura shut her eyes and tried to control her voice.
“Laura? Are you still there?”
“Yes.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll see you tonight, Marcie.” She hung
up and turned a pale face to Beebo.
Beebo snorted and opened the refrigerator door. “She still straight?”
she asked sarcastically.
Laura was stung. “No,” she flung at her. “She’s falling in love with
me.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Bo-peep.”
“I’m not kidding. And I’m not blind. She’s jealous of Jack. She thinks I
spent the night with him and it’s her fault. She wants me home.”
“How sweet,” said Beebo and chucked her under the chin. Laura pushed her
hand away impatiently.
“My clothes should be dry by now,” she said, getting up.
“Call Jack,” said Beebo. “Ask him what he told your roommate.”
Laura hated to do anything Beebo suggested, just because Beebo suggested
it. But Beebo was right. Laura called him at the office. She got him
five minutes before closing.
“I found out from Mortin—the bartender at The Cellar,” he said, “And if
you pull another fast one on me, Mother, by Jesus, I’m going to let you
stew in your own juice. I called you a dozen times last night. You must
have been out on Cloud Nine. Marcie’s mad as hell. She thinks I’m
corrupting you.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” Laura said earnestly. “Jack, what would I do
without you?”
“I don’t know. But I wish to hell _you_ did. Marcie’d like to see me
behind bars.”
“Jack, isn’t that a good sign? I mean she seems almost jealous.”
“Oh, Christ,” he said, and then he laughed. “You’re really goofy for
her, aren’t you?”
Laura looked up at Beebo. “Yes,” she said. “I am.”
“Well, watch it. I don’t know what to tell you. Nothing seems to
register. If I say ‘she’s not gay’ to you once more I’ll sound like a
broken record. But she’s not. I don’t want to see you get stabbed,
that’s all. Better you should blow off steam with Beebo until you get
over Marcie.”
“I’ve blown off about as much steam as I can stand,” Laura said, and
Beebo laughed. “I’m through.”
“Don’t be so dogmatic, Mother mine. You’ll only have to swallow your
words and you’ll look like an ass doing it.”
Laura wouldn’t believe him when he told her Marcie was straight. She
wouldn’t because she didn’t want to. She had told him, she had even told
Beebo now, that Marcie was falling for her. She didn’t dare believe it
herself, but if somebody else did, maybe somehow that would help. Her
desire, her pride, trapped her. “Thanks again, Jack,” she said. “One of
these days I’m going to do the same for you. I swear.”
“One of these days you may have to. And Laura—”
“Yes?”
“Watch out for Burr. You’re on his black list.”
“What’d I do?”
“He thinks you’re turning his pretty little sex-pot into a neurotic.
He’s jealous.”
Laura smiled, surprised.
“Well?” said Beebo, when she hung up. “Going home to your little wife?”
She grinned.
“Beebo, sometimes you make me sick.”
“I know. I’m enough to make you go straight. Go sleep with Jack tonight,
it’ll do him a world of good.”
“Oh, shut up!”
“At least it’ll give him a whopper to tell his analyst.”
Laura turned on her heel and left the room. She felt her clothes,
hanging in the bathroom. They were still damp, but dry enough to iron.
She brought them into the kitchen. “Where’s the ironing board?” she
said.
“Pretty determined, aren’t you?”
“I certainly am.”
“I’ve got dinner ready. You can eat before you go.” There was a faint
tone of pleading in her voice, as if she knew the time had gone when
sheer force was useless. Laura had made her mind up.
“I don’t want another thing from you, not even dinner.”
“No, not for another day or two,” Beebo said and her voice became
rougher as she talked. “You just want to run down for kicks once or
twice a week. I’m pretty damn convenient, aren’t I?” She pulled the
board out from the wall and plugged the iron in, her movements sharp and
angry. Laura felt a little afraid of her. Her blue eyes snapped and
there was no trace of her usual humor in her face.
“You’re the bitch, Laura, not me. You’re using me,” she said. “Go on,
iron the damn thing.” She waved a hand at Laura’s dress and Laura spread
it out on the board.
“I’m sorry, Beebo,” Laura said, taken aback.
“Sure you are.”
“All right, Beebo,” she said softly. “I won’t bother you any more.
Ever.”
Beebo snorted at her. “You try it and I’ll beat you, I swear I will,”
she said. “I’ve had enough from you, Laura. I’m not made of stone. Am I
nothing to you? Am I supposed to _believe_ I’m nothing to you? Do you
think I like to stand and listen to you slobber over that simpering
little roommate of yours? Can she give you what I can give you? Well
damn it, _can_ she?”
Laura couldn’t face her, much less answer her. She only worked the iron
over her dress and glanced at Beebo’s shoes.
Beebo’s voice softened a little. “Jesus, what a mess,” she said, leaning
on the refrigerator. “Here I am falling for you. I ought to have my head
examined. I ought to know better.” She came over to Laura and took the
iron out of her hands and Laura had to look at her. “Laura,” Beebo said,
leaning toward her, “I’m nuts for you. I wasn’t kidding.” They gazed at
each other, Laura surprised and scared and flattered all at once. “I
need you, baby,” Beebo whispered. “Please stay.”
“I can’t, Beebo,” Laura said.
“You don’t really think you’re in love with that little blonde, do you?”
“Yes.”
Beebo shook her head and shut her eyes for a minute. “Jack says she’s
straight. Jack is a shrewd boy. Don’t you believe him?”
“No.”
“You want to get the Miseries, Baby? That’s the quickest way.”
“You don’t know her, Beebo. Even Jack doesn’t know her as I do. She’s
changing. She seems interested in me. She’s sort of approachable. She
doesn’t even want to see her ex-husband anymore. She wants to stay home
at night with me. She breaks dates with him to do it.”
“All right.” Beebo turned away. “Suppose she’s gay. Suppose she is. What
then?” She turned to look sharply at Laura.
Laura was stumped. She had never looked beyond the present into that
possibility. What would it be like, just the two of them, both gay,
living together, in love? “Well, then everything will be wonderful,” she
said.
Beebo gave a short unpleasant laugh. “Yeah,” she said. “Wonderful. You
walk hand in hand into the sunset.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Beebo. I never made a secret of my feelings
for Marcie.”
“I never made a secret of mine for you, baby.”
“We’d never do anything but fight, Beebo.”
“Fight and make love. I could live forever on such a diet.” She smiled a
little.
“It would drive me crazy. I couldn’t take it.”
“Do you think there won’t be fights with your little Marcie if she turns
out gay?”
“I suppose there will.”
“You know damn well there will. And if she’s straight, what happens? She
reads you the Riot Act. Calls the cops. Sics her husband on you.”
“She wouldn’t do any of those things, Beebo. She’s a sweet girl. She
wouldn’t get wild like you.”
“Not according to Jack. You’ve known her four months. Jack’s known her
for years.” Beebo lighted a cigarette and blew the smoke through her
nose. “Want to know something, Bo-peep? Want to know what it’s like?
I’ve had it happen to me—more than once. If you’re gay, it just happens
now and then, that’s all. You get the bug for some lovely kid and you
can’t keep it to yourself. You get closer and closer. And if she plays
along it’s worse and worse. And finally you give in and you grab for
her. And she turns to ice in your arms.”
She looked at Laura and there was a deep regret in her eyes. “And she
gets up with the God-damnedest sort of dignity and walks across the room
and says ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for you. Now go away. Don’t talk,
don’t try to explain, I don’t want to hear. It makes me sick. Just go
away, and I won’t tell our friends. You don’t need to worry. Just so I
never see you again.’ It makes you heartsick, baby. You get so sick
inside. You give yourself the heaves. All you want in God’s world is to
get the hell out of your own skin and be normal. Fade into the crowd
like a normal nobody.” She crushed her cigarette out, grinding it into
the ashtray with her thumb till the paper burst and the brown tobacco
spilled out.
Laura felt closer to her. All the insults of the day faded in her mind.
She walked over to her, her pressed dress over one shoulder. “Beebo,”
she said softly.
But Beebo wasn’t ready to let herself be touched. “Just remember one
thing,” she said. “Too many Marcies in your life, and you commit
suicide. That’s what it is to be gay, Laura. Gay.” Laura stepped back a
little shocked. “Sometimes all it takes is one,” Beebo said.
“No,” Laura whispered. “Oh, no.”
“Okay, baby, go find out for yourself. I can’t stop you, Jack can’t stop
you.” Beebo’s eyes were brilliant with bitterness, with the hard
knowledge of her own experience. “Go play with your little blonde.
You’ll find out soon enough she has claws. And teeth. And when you get
to playing the wrong games with her, she’ll use them.”
“Never!” Laura said. “Even if she’s straight she won’t hurt me. She’s
not that kind.”
“She doesn’t _have_ to hurt you, idiot. Can’t I get that through your
head? All she has to do is say ‘no thanks’. Kindly. Sympathetically.
Hell! If you want her bad enough, you’ll die of it. I know, Laura, I
know!” And she took Laura’s shoulders and shook her head until Laura
felt like sobbing. Beebo released her suddenly and they stood in
silence, unable to talk, heavy with feeling, trembling.
Finally Beebo said quietly, “Go on, baby. Go home and get it over with.
You’ve been warned.” All the fight seemed gone out of her.
When Laura left, Beebo came to the door with Nix at her heels. She was
unsmiling. “Come back, baby,” she said. “To stay. Or don’t come back at
all.” And when Laura turned away without answering she called after her,
“I mean it!”