I am a woman
parade. It was that same summer, before our vacation. I remember he
hoisted me up and bought me a balloon and held me while the parade went
by so I could see. Afterwards he walked around and talked to his
friends, and he didn’t make me get down. I felt like a queen on a
throne. It’s been my one good memory of him, to this day. But Mother was
with us. Maybe he did it for her sake.
“I remember her better than him from those years. Sometimes I miss her
terribly. She was very loving.”
“Maybe,” said Jack, “your father wouldn’t hate you so now if he hadn’t
loved you so much before.”
“You give him too much credit,” she said. “After what he did to me
tonight, I’ll never speak to him again. I’d kill him if I could. But I
wouldn’t go near him, even for that. I wouldn’t give him the
satisfaction of seeing my face. He has no daughter, has he? All right,
God damn him, I have no father! Two can play at that game.”
“Don’t hate me for saying it,” Jack said, “but I think you still love
him. I think you’ll see him again.”
She turned on him. “You’re crazy!” she said. “You don’t know anything!
What makes you think such a thing?”
He shrugged. “Only that it matters so terribly to you.”
Laura finished her drink and placed the glass carefully on the bar,
trying to sort out her thoughts. “If I do see him again,” she said,
“it’ll be when I can tell him I’m a success. Financially. Socially.
Every way. I want to tell him, ‘I have a good job, nice friends. I can
get along fine in this world without you, and I’ll never need you
again.’ And you know what else I’d like to say to him, Jack?”
“Yeah.” He lit a cigarette. “‘Father, I’m queer. And it’s all your
fault. Shove that up your rear and live with it!’ Yeah, I know. Shock
the hell out of him. I tried that on—on a close relative once.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t really know. When his face went blue I took off. I haven’t been
home since. I can’t go home to find out, as a matter of fact. I’m—shall
we say—not welcome.” He said this with slow sarcasm.
“Jack, I’m sorry,” she said gently, and looked at him sympathetically.
It occurred to her now, when she found his own troubles paralleled her
own, that he was very human and not a slick witty party boy without real
feelings. He was lonely. _Everybody’s lonely_, she thought. _Marcie for
a perfect mate. Beebo for a perfect girl. Jack for an affectionate boy.
Me ... Poor Sarah ..._
That recalled Sarah to her mind. “Jack, I have a friend,” she said.
“Congratulations.”
“—named Sarah.”
“Does Beebo know?”
“And she wants a date.”
“With a girl?”
“—With a boy. She’s straight.”
“What a shame.”
“Can you help me out?”
“I can help _you_, Mother, but can I help Sarah?”
“You must know somebody. How about that boy who answered your phone
tonight? Could he take her out?”
“If he does I’ll break his head for him,” he said and laughed softly,
knocking his cigarette ashes into a scorched aluminum tray in front of
him.
“Who is he, Jack?” she asked.
“A friend. No, a lover. For the moment, anyway.”
Laura put her hand on his arm. “Don’t be so cynical,” she said.
“These things never last.” He shook his head. “Better to face it at the
beginning.”
“He must see something worthy in you or he never would have come to you
in the first place.” She spoke awkwardly, but with sympathy.
“He sees dollar bills.” Jack smiled.
“Jack! Don’t be so hard on yourself. It hurts me.” She didn’t like to
see him stick the pins in himself. It was all right when he did it to
her, because it was in fun. She didn’t mind, she understood his need.
But when he hurt himself he hurt in dead earnest.
“Besides, you aren’t rich,” Laura said. “If that’s all he wanted, he’d
find somebody else.”
“I have a little put away,” he said. “I save it up in between affairs.
When somebody irresistible comes along, I spend it like a fool. Makes a
wonderful impression the first couple of weeks. Then I’m flat broke and
all alone again. My chronic condition.”
It was a pathetic revelation. Laura was taken aback by it. “You
shouldn’t do it, Jack,” she said.
“I can’t help it. I’ll hang on to him with anything. Anything I’ve got.
Even dollar bills.”
“If all he wants is your money he’s not _worth_ your money! Or your
time, or your friendship.”
“Laura, this isn’t friendship. This is another subject entirely. Honest
to God.” Laura blushed. “A man can’t buy a friend. But there’s always a
little love for sale.”
“Not real love.”
He shrugged. “I don’t ask for the moon.”
Laura finished her drink. “What’s his name?” she said.
“Terry.”
“Terry what?”
“Just Terry.”
“You don’t trust me.” She said it quietly, but she was hurt.
“Terry Fleming.” He spoke the name gently and Laura saw a look on his
face that changed him entirely. She studied him, surprised.
“Jack, I think you’re in love.” Once said, it sounded gauche and unfair.
But he only said, “I think so, too.”
Laura was lost. What do you do on the spot like this? “I don’t know
whether to give you my congratulations or my sympathy,” she said
seriously.
Jack laughed. “Both, Mother. That’s a beautiful sentiment, whatever it
is. Thanks.”
He seemed unable to talk about it and Laura finally returned to Sarah.
“Is there somebody in the office you could get for Sarah?” she asked.
She described her to him. “She’s not pretty, but she’s just a swell
girl.”
“I know, there are a million of ’em,” he sighed. “I wish to God I were
straight. I’d marry her, poor kid.” Laura stared at him, then smiled. “I
guess I can arrange something,” he said. “Do we have to double with
them?”
“She expects it. I hate to ask.”
“Okay, okay. It won’t kill me. But dinner only. And I’ll be in a hurry.”
“Thanks, Jack.”
“I’d better find a tame one for her,” he mused and then laughed a
little. “Whatever that means. Jesus, the poor girl has probably dreamed
all her life of a good thorough raping. But I can’t assume the
responsibility. Maybe Jensen can go. I’ll call you in the morning on
it.”
“Thanks. She’d be so happy.” Laura finished a second drink. Jack was two
up on her. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, wanting to
tell him about the change that had come over Marcie but afraid of his
sarcasm. Finally she said, in the characteristic blunt way that
disguised her uncertainty, “Jack, Marcie is different. Something’s
happening to her. I—I’m scared.” She could go no further. She looked
away from him.
Jack chuckled. “Well, what’s she doing, filching undies from Macy’s
basement?”
“She doesn’t want to see Burr any more.”
Jack frowned slightly. “She’s finally coming to her senses? That was a
screwy match to begin with. Burr wants to worship one gal. Marcie wants
to raise a little hell with every other man she sees.”
“She wants to be like me. That’s what she said. She wants to read books.
Spend more time at home. She wants me to help her.”
“Help her what?”
Laura frowned. “I don’t know what. She says she’s sick of herself and
she wants to be a better person.”
Jack bit his underlip reflectively. “I know what you’re thinking. And
you’re wrong. She’s not turning gay.”
“I didn’t say that.” Laura turned to him indignantly.
“You don’t have to. You’re thinking it so hard I can hear the wheels
going around in your head.” He looked at her. “Once and for all, Laura,
she’s _not gay_. Maybe she’s got room in her somewhere for a little
curiosity. Maybe living with you really has made her dissatisfied with
herself. If so, so much the better. But she’s not mooning for you every
night.”
“She acted so funny, Jack. Like—like she enjoyed having me near her.
Like she wanted me to touch her. I mean, comfort her. You know.”
“The more you want her to enjoy it, the more it’ll seem like she does.”
“I’m not making up stories,” Laura said with some heat.
“No, Mother, I know. I believe you. I’m just telling you a fact. I’ve
known Marcie for a couple of years. From the time she and Burr started
dating right through their divorce. She’s capable of—let’s
say—wondering. Like the night she wanted to touch tongues.” Laura
shivered involuntarily. “Once in a while she gets a kick out of a fling
in the Village. Maybe she just wants to see how far you’ll go. Maybe
she’s egging you on, Laura. Did you ever think of that? Just to see what
the hell you’ll do?”
“She wouldn’t do that,” Laura said positively, somewhat shocked.
“Never.”
Jack gave a little snort. “Okay, maybe not. But she’s not about to fall
for you. Not now or ever.”
“She meant it when she talked to me last night. She was sincere.”
“Sure she meant it. She’s on a book kick. She’s obviously very impressed
with you. It shows when she talks about you. Temporarily, you’re
somebody to imitate, somebody to admire.”
“Temporarily?”
“Don’t fall into a trap.” He put a hand on her knee.
“It’s no trap! She’s too innocent to set me a trap.”
“Innocent?” He laughed. “Don’t count on it. Besides, you’re too innocent
to avoid one. Right now you have a lot to learn.”
Laura glared at him. “I’m not stupid.”
“No, you’re not. You’re very bright, honey. You’re just uninformed. If
you want to learn, go scout up Beebo and take the Grand Tour of the
Village.”
“I could no more fall for her than I could fall for—for—”
“For me?” He laughed.
She smiled suddenly and laughed with him. “Oh,” she said with a wave of
her hand, “You’re taken.”
“Mother, that’s a beautiful one-line definition of my dilemma. My
analyst could use you.”
“Are you being analyzed?” she asked.
“Aren’t we all?”
“Answer me!”
“I did. Let’s go. I hate to keep people waiting.”
“Who’s waiting?”
“My friend, Mr. Fleming.”
She slipped off the barstool, pulling her jacket on. “I’d like to meet
him.”
“If it lasts another couple of weeks, I guess it’d be safe.” He took her
arm and steered her through the crowd. They stared at her but it didn’t
disconcert her so much now that she had had a drink or two.
“Where’s your adoring roommate tonight?” Jack said as they went up the
stairs.
“Having dinner downtown.”
“Why don’t you go over to The Cellar? Let Beebo tell you some fairy
stories. She’s got a million of ’em.”
“I couldn’t take Beebo tonight.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll walk you to the subway.”
“No, don’t bother. I know you want to get home. Thanks a lot, Jack. I
don’t know why you’re so good to me.”
“My interest is purely academic. Your innocence amazes me.”
“You make me feel like a hayseed,” she said.
He laughed. “Okay, Hayseed. I’ll call you in the morning on
what’s-her-name.”
“Sarah.”
“Sarah. See you.” And he turned and walked off.
* * * * *
Laura walked toward the subway but she knew she wasn’t going home. She
knew she would walk right past it and she did. She walked for four
blocks, seething with a renewed fury at Merrill Landon. Her hot hand was
cramped around the slip of paper with Beebo’s number on it, in the
pocket of her jacket....
_I’ll pay her back. I’ll just give her the money I owe her, have one
drink, and go home._ She looked at her watch—a little past nine. For a
moment she stood at the head of the stairs looking down at the double
doors that opened into The Cellar, feeling her heart bound nervously.
She never seemed able to walk into this place confidently. There was
always a moment of fear and reluctance. But the need to be with her own
kind quickly overpowered it.
She walked in, heading for the bar, ignoring the curious stares that
greeted her. She stood at the end of the bar and when the bartender came
up he recognized her.
“Hi,” he said. “What’ll it be?”
“Whisky and water, please,” she said. She looked around the place, up
and down the bar, around the tables, but she didn’t see Beebo. She drank