I am a woman
been a bad fight,” she said.
“You’ve got it all wrong, Beebo. It wasn’t a fight. It was—I don’t know
what it was.”
“She straight?”
“I don’t know.” Laura put her forehead down on the heel of her right
hand. “Yes, she’s straight,” she whispered.
“Well, did you tell her? About yourself?”
“I don’t know if I did or not. I didn’t say it but I acted like a fool.
I don’t know what she thinks.”
“Then things could be worse,” Beebo said. “But if she’s straight,
they’re probably hopeless.”
“That’s what Jack said.”
“Jack’s right.”
“He’s not in love with her!”
“Makes him even righter. He sees what you can’t see. If he says she’s
straight, believe him. Get out while you can.”
“I can’t.” Laura felt an awful twist of tenderness for Marcie in her
throat.
“Okay, baby, go home and get your heart broken. It’s the only way to
learn, I guess.”
“I can’t go home. Not tonight.”
“Come home with me.”
“No.”
“Well ...” Beebo smiled. “I know a nice bench in Washington Square. If
you’re lucky the bums’ll leave you alone. And the cops.”
“I’ll—I’ll go to Jack’s,” she said, suddenly brightening with the idea.
“He won’t mind.”
“He might,” Beebo said, and raised her glass to her lips. “Call him
first.”
Laura started to leave the bar and then recalled that all her change was
sitting on the counter in front of Beebo. She turned back in confusion,
her face flushing again. Beebo turned and looked at her. “What’s the
matter, baby?” And then she laughed. “Need a dime?” She handed her one.
For a moment, in the relative quiet of the phone booth, Laura leaned
against a wall and wondered if she might faint. But she didn’t. She
deposited the dime and dialed Jack’s number. The phone rang nine times
before he answered, and she was on the verge of panic when she heard him
lift the receiver at last and say sleepily, “Hello?”
“Hello, Jack? Jack, this is Laura.” She was vastly relieved to find him
at home.
“Sorry, we don’t want any.”
“Jack, I’ve got to see you.”
“My husband contributes to that stuff at the office.”
“Jack, please! It’s terribly important.”
“I love you, Mother, but you call me at the God-damnedest times.”
“Can I come over?”
“Jesus, no!” he exclaimed, suddenly coming wide awake.
“Oh, Jack, what’ll I do?” She sounded desperate.
“All right now, let’s get straightened out here. Let’s make an effort.”
He sounded as if he had drunk a lot and just gotten to sleep, still
drunk, when Laura’s call woke him up. “Now start at the beginning. And
make it quick. What’s the problem?”
She felt hurt, slighted. Of all people, Jack was the one she had to
count on. “I—I acted like a fool with Marcie. I don’t know what she
thinks,” she half-sobbed. “Jack, help me.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing—everything. I don’t know.”
“God, Mother. Why did you pick tonight? Of all nights?”
“I didn’t pick it, it just happened.”
“_What_ happened, damn it?”
“I—I sort of embraced her.”
There was a silence on the other end for a minute. Laura heard him say
away from the receiver, “Okay, it’s okay. No, she’s a friend of mine. A
friend, damn it, a girl.” Then his voice became clear and close again.
“Mother, I don’t know what to say. I’m not sure I understand what
happened, and if I did I still wouldn’t know what the hell to say. Where
are you?”
“At The Cellar. Jack, you’ve just got to help me. Please.”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes. No. I’ve been talking to Beebo, but—”
“Oh! Well, God, that’s it, that’s the answer. Go home with Beebo.”
“No! I can’t, Jack. I want to come to your place.”
“Laura, honey—” He was wide awake now, sympathetic, but caught in his
own domestic moils. “Laura, I’m—well, I’m entertaining.” He laughed a
little at his own silliness. “I’m involved. I’m fraternizing. Oh, hell,
I’m making love. You can’t come over here.” His voice went suddenly in
the other direction as he said, “No, calm down, she’s not coming over.”
Then he said, “Laura, I wish I could help, honest to God. I just can’t,
not now. You’ve got to believe me.” He spoke softly, confidentially, as
if he didn’t want the other to hear what he said. “I’ll tell you what
I’ll do, I’ll call Marcie and get it straightened out. Don’t worry,
Marcie believes in me. She thinks I’m Jack Armstrong, the all-American
boy. The four-square trouble-shooter. I’ll fix it up for you.”
“Jack, please,” she whimpered, like a plaintive child.
“I’ll do everything I can. You just picked the wrong night and that’s
the God’s truth, honey. Where’s Beebo? Let me talk to Beebo.”
Laura went out of the booth to get her, feeling half dazed, and found
her way back to the bar. “He wants to talk to you,” she said to Beebo,
without looking at her.
Beebo frowned at her and then swung herself off her seat and headed for
the phone. Laura sat down in her place, disturbed by the warmth Beebo
left behind, twirling her glass slowly in her hand. She was crushed that
Jack had turned her down.
Perhaps he had a lover, perhaps this night was so important to him that
he couldn’t give it up, even though she had all his sympathy. These
things might be—in fact, were—true. But Laura could hardly discern them
through her private pains.
Beebo came back in a minute and leaned over Laura, one hand on the bar,
the other on Laura’s shoulder. “He says I’m to take you home,” she said,
“feed you aspirins, dry your tears, and put you to bed. And no monkey
business.” She smiled as Laura looked slowly up into her face. It was a
strong interesting face. With a little softness, a little innocence, it
might have been lovely. But it was too hard and cynical, too restless
and disillusioned. “Come on, sweetie pie,” Beebo said. “I’m a nice kid,
I won’t eat you.”
They walked until they came to a small dark street, and the second door
up—dark green—faced right on the sidewalk. Beebo opened it and they
walked down a couple of steps into a small square court surrounded by
the windowed walls of apartment buildings. On the far side was another
door with benches and play areas grouped in between on the court. Beebo
unlocked the other door and led Laura up two flights of unlighted stairs
to her apartment.
When they went inside a brown dachshund rushed to meet them and tried to
climb up their legs. Beebo laughed and talked to him, reaching down to
push him away.
Laura stood inside the door, her hands over her eyes, somewhat unsteady
on her feet.
“Here, baby, let’s get you fixed up,” Beebo said. “Okay, Nix, down.
Down!” she said sharply to the excited little dog, and shoved him away
with her foot. He slunk off to a chair where he studied her
reproachfully.
Beebo led Laura through the small living room to an even smaller bedroom
and sat her down on the bed. She knelt in front of her and took her
shoes off. Then, gently, she leaned against her, forcing her legs
slightly apart, and put her arms around Laura’s waist. She rubbed her
head against Laura’s breasts and said, “Don’t be afraid, baby.” Laura
tried weakly to hold her off but she said, “I won’t hurt you Laura,” and
looked up at her. She squeezed her gently, rhythmically, her arms
tightening and loosening around Laura’s body. She made a little sound in
her throat and, lifting her face, kissed Laura’s neck. And then she
stood up slowly, releasing her.
“Okay,” she said. “Fini. No monkey business. Make yourself comfortable,
honey. There’s the john—old, but serviceable. You sleep here. I’ll take
the couch. Here! Here, Nix!” She grabbed the little dog, which had
bounded onto the bed and was trying to lick Laura’s face, and picked him
up in her arms like a baby. She grinned at Laura. “I’ll take him to bed,
he won’t bother you,” she said. “Call me if there’s anything you need.”
She looked at Laura closely while Laura tried to answer her. The younger
girl sat on the bed, pale with fatigue and hunger, feeling completely
lost and helpless. “Thanks,” she murmured.
Beebo sat down beside her. “You look beat, honey,” she said.
“I am.”
“Want to tell me about it now?”
Laura shook her head.
“Well ...” she said. “Goodnight, Little Bo-peep. Sleep tight.” And she
kissed her forehead, then turned around and went out of the bedroom,
turning out the light on her way.
Laura had gotten off the bed without looking at her, but feeling Beebo’s
eyes on her. She shut the door slowly, until she heard the catch snap.
Then she turned, leaning on the door, and looked at the room. It was
small and full of stuff, with yellowed walls. Everything looked clean,
although the room was in a state of complete confusion, with clothes
draped over chairs and drawers half shut.
All of a sudden, Laura felt stronger. She undressed quickly, taking off
everything but her nylon slip, and pulled down the bedclothes. She
climbed in gratefully. She didn’t even try to forget Marcie or what had
happened. It would have been impossible. Mere trying would have made it
worse. She relaxed on her back in the dark, her arms outflung, and
waited for the awful scene to come up in her mind and torture her.
Her mind wandered. The awful embrace was awful no longer—only wrong and
silly and far away. The damage was irreparable. She stared at the
ceiling, invisible in the dark, and felt a soft lassitude come over her.
She felt as if she were melting into the bed; as if she could not have
moved if she tried.
Time flowed by and she waited for sleep. It was some time before she
realized she was actually waiting for it. It didn’t come. She turned on
her side, and still it eluded her. Finally she snapped the light on to
squint at her watch. It said five of four. She switched it off again,
her eyes dazzled, and wondered what the matter was. And then she heard
Beebo turn over in the next room, and she knew.
An old creeping need began to writhe in Laura, coming up suddenly out of
the past and twisting itself around her innards. The pressure increased
while she lay there trying to ignore it, becoming more insistent. It
began to swell and fade with a rhythm of its own; a rhythm she knew too
well and feared. Slowly the heat mounted to her face, the sweat come out
on her body. She began to turn back and forth in bed, hating herself and
trying to stop it, but helpless with it.
Laura was a sensual girl. Her whole being cried out for love and loving.
It had been denied her for over a year, and the effects were a severe
strain on her that often brought her nerves to the breaking point. She
pretended she had learned to live with it, or rather, without it. She
even pretended she could live her whole life without it. But in her
secret self she knew she couldn’t.
Beebo turned over again in the living room and Laura knew she was awake,
too. The sudden realization made her gasp, and she could fool herself no
longer. She wanted Beebo. She wanted a woman; she wanted a woman so
terribly that she had to put her hand tight over her mouth to stop the
groan that would have issued from it.
For a few moments more she tossed feverishly on her bed, trying to find
solitary release, but it wouldn’t come. The thought of Beebo tortured
her now, and not the thought of Marcie. Beebo—with her lithe body, her
fascinating face, her cynical shell. There was so much of Beth there. At
that thought, Laura found herself swinging her legs out of bed.
Moonlight glowed in two bright squares on the living room floor. Laura
could see the couch, draped in blankets. She wondered whether Beebo had
heard her and waited breathlessly for some sign. Nix lifted his head but
made no sound, only watching her as she advanced across the room on her
tiptoes, her white slip gleaming as she passed through the light.
Laura stood and hovered over the couch, uncertain what to do, her heart
pounding hugely against her ribs, Beebo was on her side, turned toward