Beebo Brinker Chronicles 1 - Odd Girl Out (13 page)

Bud was regaling the crowd with a trombone solo when Beth and Charlie found seats in a booth, and Emily was sitting on the floor of the bandstand at his feet, leaning against the piano.

"See?” said Charlie with a grin. He helped her out or her coat. “Be right back,” he said, and went off to get beer.

Beth took out a cigarette and settled back to watch Bud perform. He stood with his head cocked toward the trumpet, building a duet for the clarinet to coast on. There was a cigarette jutting from his left hand and his shirt sleeves were rolled halfway up his long forearms. His legs were set wide apart and his right foot beat steadily on the stand beneath it. He belonged wholly at that moment to the melody and rhythm he was making, and Emily belonged wholly to him.

Beth studied them with the strange little prick of foreboding that Bud always inspired in her. It wasn't that she didn't like him; he was, as everybody said, a great guy. But he was no great guy to fall in love with. His eyes were always busy with other women and his head was full of music. He was crazy about Emmy, but he didn't love her. Beth didn't think he ever would. It wasn't Emmy's personal failure; he was just made that way. Some men are.

Charlie set a quart of beer under her nose and pushed her over into the booth. She looked up at him and smiled. He kept shoving until he had her pinned against the wall.

"Are you going to let me get away with this?” he said.

"Hell, no. I'm a lady,” said Beth.

"Beth honey, you swear too much."

"I know,” she said, “it's a defense mechanism."

He slid away from her and poured her beer. Beth felt the release of pressure from his body with regret. She watched him while he poured, wondering what it was that made her follow him, smile against her will at him, feel content just to look at him.

"Drink up,” he said, and gave her her glass. “Cheers."

The music stopped and Charlie looked up and waved at Bud. Bud put his horn down on the piano for a moment and nudged Emmy. They both smiled and nodded and waved. Charlie beckoned to them to come over but the music started again and Bud picked up his trombone.

Charlie put his arm around Beth and she was astonished at the force of her pleasure. She turned to smile at him and it came to her as a shock that their faces were so close. Charlie pulled her closer and checked her sudden impulse to retreat with his own obstinate strength.

"Beth,” he said, “do you know you bothered the hell out of me all through Christmas vacation?” She smiled away from him. “I thought about you all the time. And that's the God's truth, if I never told it before. I couldn't get you out of my head. Oh, I know what you're thinking.” he looked at his beer and gave her a chance to watch him again. “You think I've said the same thing to a dozen different girls. Well, I guess I have, at that. I even thought I meant it once or twice.” He laughed a little at himself. “Do I sound like a damn fool?"

"Yes,” she said, but she smiled gently.

He leaned toward her. “I wish I knew you better, Beth. I think there must be a lot to know about you.” He reached over and stroked her cheek with his index finger, and she pulled away, still smiling.

"Why?"

"Because there's so little you tell. You won't talk about yourself, honey. And yet you're talented, intelligent...” He paused. “You're beautiful, Beth. I say this at considerable risk to my ego."

She laughed and looked at him.

"You are, you know.” He reached into her soft hair and caressed her neck with his hand. “Will I have to resort to tricks to get you out next time? Or can I just say, ‘Beth, this is Charlie. I want to see you.'?"

"Try it,” she said.

"I will. Do you remember meeting me, Beth? At a party a couple of years ago? You were there with Don. Remember?

"Yes.” She smiled, warm and aroused.

"Do you know what I thought of you?"

"No, she said and shook her head, wondering at her wealth of monosyllables.

"I thought you were a beautiful girl who didn't know she was beautiful. I thought you were antisocial, too. I figured you for a born spinster. My God, I was blind! I remember wondering if some guy would have the sense to see how pretty you were and didn't give a damn that you were such a square. Or maybe liked you square. I guess Don did."

"We got along, for a while."

"God, isn't it funny how things work out? I had the eyes to see you with and not the sense to do anything about it. I guess I thought you were strange. I mean, it didn't seem right that you should be so wrapped up in books. Not you."

"Oh, I've always liked books.” She couldn't get a respectable sentence out.

"Better than anything else?"

"Not quite."

"I used to think so."

"They were an escape. They—filled an empty place. I guess you don't know about empty places, Charlie."

"I'm spoiled. I don't say that makes a better man of me. Will you tell me about the empty places, honey?"

It hit close to home.

"Can you talk to me, Beth?” he said gently. She looked down again, and he waited silently, watching her. “Hard, isn't it?” he said. “I remember when I was little I always used to say, ‘Can I go outside?’ and my mother would say, ‘You can but you may not.’ It's the other way around for you, I guess. You may, but you can't."

She looked up at him slowly and nodded. “I could, if it didn't matter,” she said, and then, as if she had confessed too much, she turned away sharply and looked down into the cool gold in her beer glass.

"Afraid of me, Beth?"

She smiled a little at the heavily initialed table top, remembering the way she had asked Laura that same question, and then she looked up, straight ahead of her. “No,” she said.

"Then look at me and say so."

She looked at him but it was very difficult to say it. It was difficult to say anything. She found herself just looking at him, wordless and wondering and excited. His arm tightened around her.

"No, Charlie,” she whispered.

"I think you are."

"All right, I am.” She swayed away from him but he followed her to the wall of the booth and held her fast. The force of the physical attraction between them overcame their sanity. They wanted each other with a violent desire; wanted to fit their bodies together to forge two physical promises. And still Beth fought him.

"Beth,” he murmured.

She turned her head and his lips trailed over her cheek until his tongue found the corner of her lips. And then she turned back to him with the music and the noise and the excitement giving them privacy, and let her lips part a little and give themselves to him. All resistance washed out of her. She put her arms around him and held tight to him and when he stopped in surprise to gaze at her, she pulled his head down again and found his mouth, begged for it with her own, curiously thrilled with the light scratch of his beard, pressing her breasts against his broad flat chest as if she had suddenly found an excuse for their being.

"Beth!” he whispered in astonishment, putting his head down on her shoulder and holding her hard, feeling her tremble. Her response was so unexpected, so strong, that it caught him completely unaware.

"Jesus!” he said, and kissed her neck. “Let's get out of here.” And sat up and started to pull her after him.

"Oh, no! No, Charlie, I—” She was frightened then, unwilling and unable to trust herself. They were safe in Maxie's basement; they couldn't do anything wrong. But Charlie had a car and he had an apartment, and Beth wanted him so much that she couldn't have put up a struggle. With another man it wouldn't have mattered; she had given up struggling long ago. It just didn't matter that much to her one way or the other. It was a sort of lost cause. But with Charlie it mattered enormously; with Charlie it had to be right. And the fear that it wouldn't be scared her almost as much as the growing feeling that it would.

"Charlie?” said a girl's voice. He looked around slowly with a frown. It was Mary Lou. “Hi!” she said. There was a boy behind her. “Freddie said there was a jam session down here. Well, Beth! What are you doing here?"

Beth mustered a smile. “Well—Charlie said there was a jam session down here."

"Uh—say, why don't you two sit down?” Charlie said to them. “We were just leaving. You can have the booth."

"Oh, there's room for four,” said Mary Lou, sliding in on the opposite side. “Stay a little longer. This is the last set."

Charlie tried to object but she said, “Oh, look—isn't that Bud playing trombone? And look at Emmy.” She turned to Beth with a disapproving frown. “Do you think she ought to sit up there like that? In public, I mean? It really doesn't look too good."

"I think it looks damn noble and romantic,” said Charlie with a sort of irritated amusement. “Mary Lou, you worry too much."

"Look again!” said Freddie gleefully. “Maybe she's got something to worry about."

Mary Lou turned around in time to see Bud, flushed with beer and pleased with himself, give Emily a prolonged and melodramatic kiss. The audience offered some spirited approval.

"Oh!” said Mary Lou indignantly and the men laughed at her.

"That's nothing to worry about,” said Charlie. “That's normal. Hell, be thankful she doesn't feel that way about girls."

Oh, Laura.’ Beth shut her eyes and put her head down to ease the pain in her clenched heart. And then she felt the pressure of Charlie's arm around her and she began to quiver again.

"She's got to stop that,” said Mary Lou firmly, frowning at Emily. “It's just not fair. Not to any of us, especially her. Beth, can't you stop her?” she said earnestly. “I wish you'd talk some sense into her. I've heard all I want to hear about it. It's a campus joke. If she'd act like that right in Maxie's, I hate to think what she'd—"

The men leaned forward to hear what she said.

"Just talk to her, Beth,” she finished loftily. “As a favor to me.” Mary Lou had solid confidence in Beth. Beth was very sensible.

"I will,” Beth said, and it was all she had strength to say.

Charlie got out of the booth and stood up, pulling Beth after him.

"We're leaving,” he said firmly.

"Oh, why?” said Mary Lou. “Dinner isn't for another half-hour, Beth."

"It'll take me half an hour to get her back to the house,” said Charlie with a grin, and they laughed at him.

"Okay,” Mary Lou sighed. “See you later."

Beth felt a mounting sense of alarm outdistanced only by her rocketing desire. She tried feebly to protest again, but Charlie was too much for her; his utter refusal to let her intimidate him, his gentleness, his strength, his passion and her own overpowered her. She let him take charge of her.

Charlie put an arm around her and led her the three blocks to his apartment. She knew where they were going though she had never been there. They said very little to each other but when they stopped at street corners or turned and looked at each other their hearts started up again. Just inside the apartment door she stopped and turned back, the so-familiar doubts back in her heart “Mary Lou?” she said.

"I took you out to dinner. She won't ask questions."

"Mitch?"

"Field trip. Won't get back till tomorrow.” Laura? she thought, and the pain came back, but only for a moment. Charlie swept it away. He put his arms around her and embraced her so tightly that she couldn't breathe. And then he relaxed a little and pressed her to him, running his hands down her back. Her shoulders, her breasts, her hips felt the response of his smooth strength, his desire.

He picked her up and carried her to the bed. “Beth, you're lovely,” he said. “So lovely."

A sudden awful fear clutched at her. What if it was wrong? What if it was as dull and empty and depressing as all the others? What if her instincts had misled her?

"Wait, Charlie!” she said in a voice pitched high with alarm.

He heard the strain in her words and stopped to pull her close and comfort her. She clung to him on the verge of tears.

"Beth,” he murmured. “Beth? Is this the first time?” She held her breath in an agony of misgiving. What would he think of her if she told him the truth?

"Is it?” he prodded gently, thinking that was probably the cause of her fears. He was surprised to hear her whisper into his sweater, “No."

For a few moments they sat on the bed, neither moving nor speaking. Charlie was completely at a loss for words. Finally Beth lifted a pale face to him, and whispered, as if each word were costing her pain, “It was never any good. It was just a farce, a dirty little game. It was never right. At first I used to think it would be beautiful, if I just kept trying—if I didn't lose hope, if I found the right guy, if there was nothing wrong with me. If, if, if ... But it never was.” She stopped to conquer her trembling voice. “And finally, after a while, I just didn't care any more. I didn't care what they did to me. I guess I was lucky. Most of them were nice guys.” A sob betrayed her, and Charlie held her a little tighter.

"And then I got sick of it,” she said. “I got just old-fashioned sick of the whole business. I quit; I sort of swore off, I guess you could say. I figured it just wasn't for me. I didn't know why."

Charlie was silent and she began to get frightened again. “I—I don't know why I did it, Charlie. I'm ashamed—so ashamed. I—” She couldn't go on.

"You don't have to tell me all this, Beth,” he said at last. He was shaken, surprised. And at the same time her confession made him feel fiercely protective.

"I had to tell you the truth, she said through her tears. “I couldn't lie to you."

"Why?” He looked down at her.

"Because this time I—I want it to be right. I want so terribly for it to be right and I was afraid it couldn't be if I—if I weren't honest with you."

He kissed the tears on her cheeks. “Is that why you're here now, Beth? To see if it's going to be right at long last?"

She hung her head. “I'm here because you told me to come with you,” she said. “Because I couldn't help myself. Because for once I want it really and truly, for once I care about it. I care terribly.” She looked up at him with tormented eyes. “Charlie,” she begged. “Forgive me. Please forgive me."