Beebo Brinker Chronicles 1 - Odd Girl Out (11 page)

And Laura followed her willingly then, as if a great weight had been lifted from her.

The evening went quickly after that, and everybody drank too much, except for Mitch, who was talking himself into a crush on Beth.

Beth had to stop Laura from a fifth Martini. “God, Charlie, what are you trying to do? Pickle her? She's not used to it,” she said.

Charlie grinned and shrugged. “Give the lady what she wants,” he said. His interest in Beth grew franker as his inhibitions grew fewer, but it didn't seem to matter. He couldn't stop himself. He began to get quiet and deliberate. When he got drunk he slowed down perceptibly, but there was nothing unmanageable or mean in him. He was quite pleasantly absorbed in pondering the enigma of Beth Cullison.

Now and then he would lean forward lightly on the table and study her as if she were a map. Beth gazed straight back at him in an effort to make him look away, but it was rather more like indicating the way to him; he wasn't in the least abashed. Beth was somehow half afraid that he would read in her eyes something of her concern for Laura; that he would see on her lips the illegal kisses, the extraordinary passion that the girl had inspired in her.

Charlie tried to ignore Beth out of regard for Mitch and Laura, but the other two simply didn't interest him. He asked Beth to dance with him again before the evening was over. The floor was small and packed. He guided her away from Mitch and Laura so they couldn't see, and he spent the dance pretty much in one place, holding her hard against him and talking to her. She had to look up at him to catch the words, and she tried to protest.

"Charlie, we have to get back,” she said. And, “You're holding me too tight."

But he only shook his head and kept her there. He had never been so attracted to a girl. It just couldn't have happened any other way. He pulled her out of the crowd and into the shadow of the heavy drapes by the bandstand and gave her just time to say, ‘No—’ before he kissed her.

When he released her she said, “Charlie, please, for God's sake—"

"I know,” he said and gave her his handkerchief. “Don't talk about it. I know."

"No, you don't,” she said, wiping off the smeared lipstick. “You couldn't. Let's get back.” But she didn't want to.

It was a while before she could look at Laura again; the whole evening was different, irrevocably changed. It wasn't Laura she wanted that night, but it was Laura she would have.

MITCH WAS MAD. It happened very rarely, but Charlie had muscled in on his date. He walked stiffly into their apartment. Charlie sighed and followed him in.

"Okay, Mitch, I'm sorry. So we both like the girl. We both want the girl. Okay, so we both call her."

"But that's just the point. You act as if you own every woman you look at, damn it. You—"

"I act like it but I don't."

"You make them think—"

"Oh, Mitch, for God's sake, that's a lot of crap. That's a lot of damn crap. You go around with your nose out of joint because you think I'm better equipped to seduce women than you are."

"Well, let's face it."

"Oh, let's face it, hell. Do you think a girl like Beth would fall for a face? For a lot of crap? Well, do you?"

"Any girl could be fooled."

"Well, would you like to know how well I fooled your precious date? I danced with her, remember? Do you know what I said to her?"

"No."

"I told her she was beautiful. Yeah, just like that. And what do you think she said to me?"

"I don't know,” said Mitch with polite sarcasm.

"She said, “Thanks, Charlie, so are you.’ Now, what do you think she meant by that?"

Mitch glowered at him, and said nothing.

"She meant, ‘You're an ass, Ayers. You're a damn ass and you're not fooling me.’ Okay, I'm an ass. My God, I know what I am. It's just that women like that crap—most women. Now, do you think a girl like Beth thinks I'm Prince Charming, or something? Hell no, she thinks I'm an ass. Quit harping on the thing."

"Harping? Who's harping? You're doing all the talking."

"Oh, for God's sake,” Charlie muttered. “All right, the hell with it. Do you want to know what your trouble is, Grogan? Do you want to know what your son-of-a-bitching trouble is? Well, I'll tell you. You don't want Beth Cullison; you just want a girl.” Charlie sighed. “Let's just forget it. We'll talk about it later.” Mitch sat motionless. “Women,” Charlie growled. He went to the washbowl and brushed his teeth viciously and then he got into bed. “Come on, Mitch, you can't sit there all night."

Mitch stood up slowly and got out of his clothes and into his pajamas without a word. Charlie rolled over and shut his eyes and tried to figure out a way to see Beth, Mitch or no Mitch. He tossed around for a long while before he got to sleep.

Beth was a long time getting to sleep herself that night, too. Emily wouldn't go to bed until the birds were nearly ready to get up. Beth was too tired to want anything but sleep; too full of Charlie, too upset for Laura. But still, she was committed.

When Emily finally went off and Beth and Laura were alone, Laura could see that Beth was in a faraway and pensive mood. For a while she said nothing. Laura sat down on the couch and looked up at Beth as she might have gazed at a distant cloud, so lovely, too hard to know, so impossible to clasp and keep. The first drops of melancholy began to spatter in Laura when Beth turned out the light and came over to the bed and pulled Laura down in it beside her. She held her close and they lay still for a little while, warming each other, occupied with their thoughts.

"Beth,” Laura whispered finally, “are you unhappy about something?"

"No, honey.” Her voice was very soft. “Should I be?"

"I don't know. You sort of—acted as if you were."

"No, baby, I'm not unhappy.” She frowned in the dark.

"Sometimes—sometimes I think I don't know you at all, Beth."

Beth said nothing. It was true.

"I know about the little things, but—I don't know anything about what makes you the way you are. I'm afraid I never will."

Beth squeezed her gently. “Maybe I'm not worth it. Maybe it doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does.” She sounded urgent. “We won't always be together like this, Beth."

"Nothing lasts forever."

And Laura fell silent, as silent as her tears. Beth held her, unknowing; wondering sleepily at Charlie's invulnerable composure. She was startled out of near sleep when Laura said, some while later, “What do you really think of Charlie?"

"Mmmm ... he's conceited."

"Is that all?"

"No. I don't know. He's a nice guy, I guess. I don't know..."

Laura felt her uncertainty as a worse threat than her positive admiration would have been. Under the spell of possible threats she snuggled closer to Beth, feeling, like a pain, the fragile sweetness of every moment with her. She thought briefly of Charlie, and she swore to herself, He won't have her! I'll fight for her!

"All right, baby?” Beth murmured.

"No!” Laura whispered. “No, Beth, I love you. Darling, I love you.” Her sudden intensity brought Beth back to life. Laura had her way. She vented her passion with bouquets of kisses and her arms full of all the magnificent softness of Beth's body. Beth gasped in a thrill of surprise and then it was just Beth and Laura again, so immersed in each other that no wayward uninvited thoughts could threaten them.

It was the last time they were together before Christmas; the last time for several weeks.

Christmas. Laura went home to Lake Forest, Charlie went home to New York, and Beth went off to Florida to be with her Aunt Elsa and Uncle John.

There was little for Laura to do but visit one parent and then the other, and do school assignments. The holidays were a dreary parenthesis in her romance. She wanted to write to Beth every day but Beth forbade it.

"It would look too obvious,” she said. “Just send a couple of notes, honey."

Her notes were rather more like chapters from a book, but at least there were only three of them. Beth's answers were short but affectionate in a noncommittal sort of way; Laura knew them by heart.

She spoke to her parents so many times of Beth that her mother exclaimed, “Aren't you lucky to have such a nice girl for a roommate!” And she was thankful that her daughter was under the guidance of someone so “sensible” about boys. Laura had told her that Beth spent most of her energies on study and the Student Union.

Mr. Landon muttered, “She sounds like a damn puritan. A girl like that ends up an old maid nine times out of ten. I wouldn't take everything she says as the Gospel, Laura."

And Laura laughed to herself to think that her lovely, warm, passionate Beth could be so easily camouflaged without benefit of a single fib.

Beth, on the beach, sunned herself and studied and thought of Laura. She thought of other things, in her solitude, and all the other things, strangely enough, were Charlie. Her mind was vague, her thoughts indefinite; there was just a cloudy image of Charlie in her head. It could be dissipated like a cloud, but like a cloud it always re-formed and hung about to threaten a storm.

It came to her at odd moments, bothersome and wonderful and completely exasperating. Once, in a restaurant booth, Uncle John leaned past her to reach for the salt shaker, putting his hand on her knee as he did so. It couldn't have been a more innocuous gesture on his part and he was somewhat startled to hear his niece gasp audibly at his touch. The warmth and pressure of his hand in just that spot on her leg brought Charlie back to her with a shock; Charlie in the smoky booth in Maxie's basement, pressing against her, laughing, telling her nonsense, and feeling her leg with an experienced hand. She felt a sudden irritation at the thought of him, as she had so many times before; and as usual, she didn't quite understand it. Before the first week of vacation was up she was impatient to get back to school again.

Charlie, in New York, occupied himself with parties and people, but his head was full of Beth. In the past, whenever he found himself thinking too much about one particular girl, he'd deliberately ignore her and take out dozens of others, another one each night, and soon enough he'd be free of his infatuation. So it was with understandable confusion that he discovered that Beth could not be driven from his thoughts in this fashion. It annoyed him, but after four or five days he accepted the situation and quite simply gave up and thought only of Beth.

He knew her special kind of beauty appealed strongly to him, and she pleased him with her teasing, her talk, even her tantalizing independence. But he had found these qualities in other girls and never been so hopelessly fascinated with them. No, there was a unique delight in being with Beth, a curious essence in her that he couldn't put his finger on, couldn't explain. It was as if she were holding something of herself back, as if there were some secret unsounded depth in her that no one had ever touched. Charlie made up his mind then and there to touch her; to reach for her and find her as she really was, and hold and keep her.

The days dragged for all three of them. Laura crossed them off on a little pocket calendar she carried in her wallet on the other side of a picture of Beth. The picture was a reproduction of her yearbook portrait and although Laura knew every plane and shadow of it, she took it out frequently to study it.

LAURA CAME BACK to school in a sweat of excitement. But when she burst into the room the one who turned to greet her was Emily.

"Where's Beth?” Laura demanded. She forgot to say hello to Emmy.

"Hi, Laur. Nice vacation?"

"Oh-yes, thanks. Where's Beth?"

"We just got a wire from her. She's not coming in till tomorrow. Bad flying weather, or something."

"Oh.” It was a shocking disappointment.

Emily stared at her curiously. She'll be back tomorrow, Laur,” she said in a comforting voice that Laura was alarmed to have inspired.

"Oh. Oh, I know.” Laura laughed nervously to cover her chagrin. “I—I just had something to tell her.” She tried to make it sound casual. She had to have something innocent to be disappointed about.

"Oh, what!” said Emily, who loved secrets.

"Oh, nothing,” said Laura. She turned away in confusion, suddenly afraid.

"Is it a secret?” said Emily. She was kneeling on the couch and smiling at Laura like a little girl with three guesses to spend. There was nothing malicious in her curiosity. “Well, I—I don't know.” Laura felt rather desperate.

"Can I guess?"

"Oh, Emmy!” she said in a sharp, angry voice. She stopped and caught her breath, and then turned to see how much damage she had done. Emily was looking at her, stung and astonished. Of all people, Laura was the last she would have expected a temper from.

"I'm sorry, Emmy,” said Laura, and she was—sorry and scared. “I didn't mean to—say anything. I'm awfully sorry."

"Well ... that's all right, Laura.” Emily frowned curiously at her. Laura undressed in a state of smoldering resentment, angry with Emily, furious with herself, and irritated with Beth for being a day late. Never mind what the flying conditions were; she should have been there.

Beth came the next morning. It was so good to look at her, to see the color of her and feel the substance, that Laura temporarily forgot her troubles and forgave her. Beth gave her a warm hug and said, “Miss me?” and laughed at Laura's bright eyes before she could answer. Laura was admiring her tan; she had turned a lovely gold-brown from the Florida sun and in her dark face her violet eyes looked almost luminous.

It took Emily only until that evening to wreak havoc. She didn't mean to; she never meant to. She thought there must be some sort of joke between Beth and Laura and she wanted to tease.

The three of them were settled quietly about the room when Emmy snapped her book shut and said, “Hey, Beth, what's this big secret between you and Laura?” She smiled at her.

Beth looked up suddenly with a long silent gasp of alarm. Emily didn't see Laura start in her chair. She was looking at Beth. Beth turned to Laura for an explanation but Laura was too frightened to say a word.