Beebo Brinker Chronicles 1 - Odd Girl Out (17 page)

"Beth?” Laura's voice was small and lost, like a child's in an empty room.

Beth pressed her close. “I don't know,” she whispered. Laura took it in silence and in a moment Beth added, “I might have to, Laur. I might have to—to ward off suspicion."

"Beth, please.” It was almost inaudible.

"Laura, baby, I can't promise. I think I have to see him."

"Why?” Her voice came out again, demanding.

"I've told you why. What will he think about you—and me-if I don't?"

Laura sat up and pulled away from her. “I don't care what he thinks. I don't care, I'm not ashamed. Are we doing something dirty or wicked to be ashamed of? Are we, Beth?"

"No.” She shut her eyes and said slowly, “But other people don't understand that, Laur. We have to keep it secret—absolutely secret. People will say we're queer—"

"But we're not! I know what queer is. I've seen people—"

"Laura, we're just as queer as the ones who look queer,” Beth said sharply, looking at her. “We're doing the same damn thing. Now, let's not kid ourselves. Let's be honest with each other, at least.” Her own deception shut her up.

Laura sat and stared at her with a horrified face. “Beth—” she quavered, shaking her head. “No ... no..."

Beth grasped her hands. “I'm sorry. Oh, I'm sorry, that was a terrible way to say it. I'm just so damn upset. I—"

"Are we really—” She couldn't say the word. “Are we, Beth?"

"Yes."

Laura was mute for a minute, and then she said, “All right. Then we are.” She set her chin. “That still doesn't make it dirty or wicked."

"No.” Beth smiled ruefully at her and kissed her hands. “It just makes it illegal."

Laura pulled her hands away and for a long while said nothing. Finally she said, “Are you going to see him, then?"

"Yes."

"How did he know your phone number?"

"Emmy."

Laura stood up suddenly and turned an outraged back to Beth.

"Laura, Emmy's a friend. A very close friend of mine."

"Not of mine."

"Try to understand, Laura. She only wanted to help."

"Can't you make her understand you don't need help?"

"That would hurt her terribly. I can't hurt her, Laur."

"You can't hurt her, but you can hurt me?"

"Oh, Laura.” Beth put her head in her hands. “I don't want to hurt either of you,” she said from between her palms. “I don't want to hurt anybody."

"Well, choose between us, then. Because apparently one of us has to be hurt."

"Laura, will you stop?” Beth cried, looking at her. “My God, who's hurting who? What are you trying to make me do? What do you want me to say?

Laura went to her and sank to her knees beside her. She put her head in Beth's lap, clutching at her, and said hoarsely, “I want you to love me, Beth, that's all. I want you to love me. Say that's selfish, say it's anything you want to call it, I can't help it. I love you more than life or death and I can't stand to think of losing you. I can't stand it, Beth, do you hear me? Oh, Beth, Beth, my darling, say you love me. Say that, and I don't care what happens. I don't care what else you say or what you do or even what we are. I don't care, if you'll only just tell me you love me ... Beth? You do love me, don't you?"

"Yes, Laura."

"Say it."

"I love you, Laur."

Laura shut her eyes and didn't see the suffering in Beth's. There was nothing more they could say to each other then. And there was nothing more they could do. Emily would be back from lunch at any moment and both of them realized how dangerous it would be to continue as they were. They silently started tidying up the room.

Emily found her roommates in a state or apparent calm. Laura was collecting a pile of books and getting ready to leave.

"Where're you going, Laur?” said Emily conversationally.

"Over to the library.” Laura wouldn't look at her. She was furious with Emily.

"I'll be down in Mary Lou's room, Emmy. We have that Comparative Lit. final tomorrow,” Beth said, starting out of the room. “If anyone calls, I'll be down there.” She looked cautiously at Laura, but Laura seemed unperturbed.

"Okay,” said Emily. “Hey, when are you going out?” She knew instantly, from the look on Beth's face, that Beth hadn't told Laura about her date. Emmy bit her tongue too late.

"I—don't know,” Beth said, and she and Laura looked at each other. “He said he'd call. About five, I think."

Laura stood perfectly still with a book in her hands and stared at Beth. Emmy made the diplomatic move; the coming storm raised enough charge to frighten her out of the room.

"Guess I'll go see Bobbie,” she said hastily, and backed out. She pulled the door shut behind her and walked down the hall in bewilderment. She didn't go to see Bobbie, she went to the living room and sat down in an alcoved corner and began, in spite of herself, to analyze the situation. She could put two and two together, but she could not believe in four until she saw it with her own eyes. It was the most difficult logic she ever faced: it was simple, irrefutable, and incredible—a lover's quarrel. Emmy gave an involuntary shudder.

Laura didn't say anything for a few moments after Emmy left. She sat down at the desk and stared out the window, speechless. Beth came up behind her, afraid to touch her, and stood behind her chair for a moment. Finally she said, “I meant to tell you, Laur. I just couldn't, after we got to talking. I can't bear to hurt you. Everything I say, everything I do, hurts you. It was cowardly, I know; I'll admit it. God knows I can't bear pain. And when I hurt you, I surfer too. I suffer terribly.

No sound, no gesture, came from Laura. Beth went around and sat on the desk and looked at her. “Laura, honey, you said—you said it didn't matter. You said nothing mattered as long as we had each other. You said you didn't care, as long as I loved you."

"Do you love me, Beth?"

"You know I do."

"No, I don't."

"I do, Laura."

"Then why didn't you tell me? Why do you lie to me, Beth?"

"Oh, darling—I'm afraid the truth hurts, sometimes. I didn't really lie to you, Laur, I just—tried to shield you."

You should have told me, Beth. You never tell me anything. I have to guess, and if I ask the right questions, maybe I get the right answers. Otherwise I never learn anything. Not telling the truth is as wrong as telling lies, Beth. You knew all the time this morning you were going out with him this afternoon. It's yourself you're trying to shield."

Beth sighed. “I'm going out with him this evening, Laur. Because there's no way to explain to him why I won't go out."

"All right, Beth. Why didn't you just tell me that? I'd rather be hurt honestly than dishonestly."

"Oh, Laura, don't you understand—"I understand that I'm being treated like an irresponsible child,” Laura exclaimed. “I'm being shielded from nothing, Beth. It's yourself you're trying to protect."

"Can't you believe I'd do something—anything—for you? Laura, if I've lied, and I have, it's been for your sake. Can't you understand that? My God, I've had to lie to Charlie for you and to Emmy, and—” And even to myself, she finished, silently. “And me."

"No, Laur."

Laura nodded at her. “Yes, Beth. Yes. Beth, I've been honest with you—absolutely honest—but you've got to be the same with me. I know I'm young. I know I'm inexperienced and childish sometimes. But you can't help me to grow up by treating me like a child; by shooing me out while you share your secrets with somebody else."

"Laura, I'm not sharing them with anyone else,” she said, and her voice was tired.

"You haven't any right to deceive me, Beth,” said Laura unhappily.

Beth's sorrows suddenly swelled and split inside and poisoned her. “God damn it, Laura!” she exploded. “Damn it, damn it, damn it! I've done nothing that I didn't do for your sake, nothing!” She stood up and strode to the other side of the room, and whirled to face Laura. “Will you never understand that? I've made mistakes, I know. I've hurt you, I know that, too. But do you have to harp on it? Do you have to cavil and pester and torment me, day after day—"

"Beth!"

"Like a damn silly little child—"

"Beth—"

"You make it impossible for me to handle this any other way, Laura. I thought we could handle the thing like adults, but apparently we aren't quite capable of that."

"But Beth, didn't you understand what I meant—what I—"

"Yes, I understand. I understand that you're at least aware that I'm not the only one who's made mistakes. I suppose I'm to be grateful for it.” The ache inside her was so awful that she went to extremes for the littlest relief; she hardly knew what she said, or cared. “What do you want me to do, Laura? Never speak to Emmy again? Never speak to Charlie? Lock myself in a damn garret with you somewhere and rot? Is that what you want?"

Laura looked at her, shaking her head, frightened.

"Well, there's a world around us, Laura,” Beth went on as if Laura had said no, “and we're damn near grown up, however young we may act, and we've damn well got to go out and live in it. And crying over each other and clinging to each other and denying the rest of the world exists is sure as hell not the way to do it. That's a child's way, Laura. And if you haven't grown up enough by now to see it, then—then, damn it, I don't know. I can't help, I can only mess it up for you. If you're still a child, then go home. Go on back home to your mother and father where you'll be happy. Let them worry about you, let them take care of you. I can't; everything I do is wrong. Well, go back to your happy home and let your parents figure it out."

Laura put her head down on her arms, resting on the back of the desk chair, and never said a word. Beth wanted to see her temper, not her surrender. She wanted a fight and she persecuted Laura still further. She walked to Laura's chair and said, “The world is half men, Laura. The world is one-half men. Does that make sense? Well, does it?"

"Yes."

"And I like men, Laura. Now, that's honest. And I like Charlie. That's honest, too. Does it hurt enough for you? Honesty? Does it?"

"Yes."

"I like Charlie and I'm going to see Charlie, when I feel like it. Is that honest enough for you?"

"Yes."

Beth went to the closet and got her coat. “You can't love a girl all your life, Laura. You can't be in love with a girl all your life. Sooner or later you have to grow up.” She pulled the coat on and suddenly she couldn't look at Laura for knowing how horribly she had hurt her. It began to overwhelm Beth and she had to get out before it strangled her.

"Tell Mary Lou I had to go out, will you?” she said brusquely.

Laura lifted her head. “Where are you going?” she said. Her delicate face was discolored by the eruption of pain and on her underarms, where Beth couldn't see, her nails raised red welts, trying to call attention from the great pain with a lesser. “Where are you going, Beth?” she whispered.

"Out,” said Beth.

"When will you be back?"

"Tonight. Closing.” She paused at the door and looked at Laura. And she knew she'd never forget what she saw. Then she went out.

Downstairs in the hall she phoned Charlie. “This is Beth,” she said. “Where's your final?"

"Math building."

"When will you be out?"

"About four, maybe sooner."

"I'll be at Maxie's."

"Honey, are you all right?"

"Yes. I'm all right."

"You sure?” He felt the tension and was doubtful.

"Yes. Charlie, I have to go."

"Okay, Maxie's.” He hung up worried.

Beth went out and walked. She walked over to the campus, and across it to campus town, and down the block to Maxie's, half wild with pain and doubt and anger.

Girls didn't usually go into Maxie's alone, but Beth walked in without looking to right or left, stopped at the bar to get some beer—they didn't serve anything stronger—and found a dark booth in a back corner. There was only a small crowd and no one paid her much attention. She looked too grim for company.

She sat back there alone until almost four o'clock, with many trips to the bar for more beer. When Charlie found her she was slumped in the booth with her head back and her eyes closed. He slid in beside her and shook her gently.

"Beth ... darling,” he said.

She opened her eyes and looked at him as if she had never seen him before. And then she smiled.

"Let's get out of here,” he said. He pulled her to her feet and helped her into her coat. She swayed a little, saying nothing and letting him steady her and lead her out into the cold air. He took her to his car and guided her in. “How long have you been there?” he said.

She put her head back on the seat. “Since two.” She smiled a little at the ceiling of the car.

"Did you have any lunch?"

"Um-hmm."

"What time?"

"Noon."

He started the car. “You need some black coffee, darling."

"No, Charlie.” She turned her head on the seat and reached for the back of his neck. She stroked it with her lone fingers and said, “No, Charlie. Come get drunk with me.'

He looked at her with a curious smile. “What's the matter, Beth?"

"I won't tell you unless you get drunk with me."

"I don't want to get drunk."

"Yes you do, Charlie. Charlie, please, darling ... yes, you do.

"What's got into you!"

She smiled. “Beer,” she said. “I'm sick of beer. Can't we go somewhere and drink Martinis?"

Charlie laughed. “Oh, you're a funny girl.” He caressed her hair with his hand.

"I know. You'll never find another like me, Charlie. Humor me, get drunk with me.” She tickled his ears. “Please..."

He turned away, smiling a little out the windshield. “If I get you a Martini, will you tell me what the hell's the matter?"

"Um-hmm."

"Promise?"

"Yes."

He paused a moment, and then he drove her downtown. There was a hotel two blocks from the railway station with a small bar in it and he took her there with some misgivings and a firm intention to drag her out after one drink.

She behaved very well. She didn't stumble or mumble and she wasn't loud. They sat quietly at a dark table and she teased him and they talked about nothing and pretty soon Beth wanted another drink.