“It's too pat, too corny,” Karen whispered.
“That's the biggest lesson to learn in life, Karen. It is cornyâeverything we all yearn for has been so over-commercialized that it's almost embarrassing to admit love, or the spring in your step on a beautiful day. Name me something that makes you feel
good
that the world doesn't consider corny today.”
“But then, what was all this we had?”
“For you?” Dee carefully avoided her own emotions, “For you it was a crutch till you got well, or something to hold on to during the hurricane.... It was, well, just a phase.”
“But I thought you'd be crushed . . . hurt . . .”
“I'd be hurt if I thought you'd taken me for a ride, or if you had been playing both ends against the middleâbut I already told you, I expected this to happen. I'm only glad it was now, before too much damage could be done.”
“And you don't hate me?”
“What for? Sure, I'll be lonely for a while, and I'll miss you. . . .”
“Couldn't we stay friends, though?” Karen asked. Gone was the determined, bitter young woman.
Dee winced at the question. “Not for a while,” she said quickly. “Get back on your own two feet . . . begin a real life for yourself. Once you're on your way . . . well, then we'll see.”
The phone rang suddenly, and Dee felt as if she had never had so many phone calls in her life. She stood up and answered it.
“Martie!” she answered with genuine pleasure, turning her back to Karen.
“No . . . I've just not had the timeâhonestâto develop them. I didn't know you'd be back so soon. But now, I'll simply make the time.”
She heard Karen fidget in her seat, then walk over to get them both a refill.
“Tonight?” she paused dramatically. “I don't know . . .” Dee glanced over at Karen. She was biting her lip lightly but met Dee's glance evenly. Karen nodded slowly.
“I'll tell you, Martie, why I hesitated. I've a very good friend here right now and we're having a few martinisâno . . . not a party. But my friend just said she couldn't stay very late. Why not come by for a late supper . . . like around nine?”
Dee was beginning to lose her control again but held on with everything in her. “Sure, sure. And listen, bring the pictures you took.... I'd like to see how you've improved.” She laughed a little too falsely but hoped Martie hadn't noticed. “All right, nine o'clock, then. S'long.”
She replaced the receiver and stood still a moment, not wanting to turn around.
Karen's voice broke through her thoughts, and she was reminded that she wasn't the only one with problems.
“I . . . I don't know why it should be,” Karen said, “but I feel like crying and running over to you to hold me close.”
Dee felt herself just sag inside. “Then do,” she said, turning around slowly.
Karen stood for a second, then ran to her, sobbing.
Dee stroked her hair gently, felt Karen's body against hers, and knew this would be the last time. “You're crying because you're both relieved and guilty about leaving me, that's all. But if you didn't, we'd have grown to despise each other and then the destruction would have begun.... Even very good friends cry when they know they won't see each other for a long time. . . .”
“I feel,” Karen said now that her crying was subsiding, “like the person I was six months ago no longer exists.”
Dee nodded. “She doesn't. At least, not in an emotional senseâshe's evolved, to be disgustingly clinical about the whole thing.”
Karen laughed.
Dee could feel her body tense up again and knew that Karen wanted to be let go, knew that Karen needed to be on her own. She released her slowly . . . regretfully. Dee went cold all over as Karen smiled nervously at her, took a step back, then handed Dee her drink.
It would be awkward now. . . . She should get Karen out of here. Get her started on her new world before they both called the whole thing off because of one tender moment.
“Jerry's going away for a month,” Dee said absently, sitting down near the fire. “Would you like to use his place till you find one of your own?”
“I . . . I suppose so. When's he leaving?” Karen stood in front of the fire, looking like some displaced waif.
“This weekend, I think he said. You could go to a hotel tonight and stay until then . . . in fact, you should leave right away.”
“Before we change our minds?” Karen smiled weakly.
Dee looked at her a moment. “People should hate each other before they try to break up. . . . It's so much easier that way.”
“I'll . . . I'll start packing.” She finished her drink and went upstairs.
As if out of compassion, Cho-Cho followed her up the stairs and stayed with her. Dee listened to the sounds of doors opening and closing and Karen's footsteps.
“Here we go again,” she whispered to herself, thinking of that period after Rita. But this was going to be different. She didn't know whyâshe just knew it would. She still loved Karen, deeply . . . but not in the same way. She'd done a little growing up, too, perhaps.
She stood up and took a look in the refrigerator to see what she was going to make for dinner. The telephone rang again. Damn thing! Dee thought, but answered, “Hello?”
“It's Karen. . . . I left straight from upstairs.”
“You what?”
“I'm . . . I'm down the street. The cab's waiting for me.”
“But Karen . . . good God, why?”
“I, well, I couldn't face you to say good-byeâeven for just a little while. I feel like a rat to be such a coward, Dee, but if I'd had to say good-bye . . . well, I don't think I could have gone.”
Dee felt the tears come into her eyes. “I understand.â Will you let me know tomorrow where you're staying?”
“I'll write it to you. . . . I don't think I'll be able to talk to you for a while yetâyou were right about not seeing each other. It . . . it's all beginning to hit me now.”
“All right, Karen, but you know where I am if you need . . . anything.”
“Don't cry. . . .”
“Hell! Who's crying? You promise to let me know?”
“Yes . . .”
“That's it, then. Have a good life, baby.”
“You, too . . .”
Neither of them said good-byeâthey simply put the receiver back on the hook. Dee smiled a little uncertainly, then went back into the kitchen and started dinnerâtears or no tears.
Martie would be arriving soon.