Beebo Brinker Chronicles 1 - Odd Girl Out (26 page)

"Beth, I have only a few minutes. Listen to me. Tell me one thing—only one. Do you love Charlie? Is that what's the matter?” Beth started to shake her head, but Laura said, “Don't try to protect me any more, Beth. I want to know the whole truth. Do you love him?"

Beth was surprised and touched by her self-command, and she gazed at her a moment before answering, “Yes,” in a whisper.

"Then I'll go. And you'll stay."

"No—"

"Listen to me!” Beth was startled into silence. Laura's voice dropped. “Beth, I love you. I'm not like other people—like most people. I can never love more or better than I love you—only more wisely maybe, some day, if I'm lucky. It can never be any other way for me. What I mean is—there can never be a man for me, Beth. I'll never love a man like I love you."

Her voice never lost its steady softness, her eyes never lost their deep hurt, her hand never relaxed its tight constriction over Beth's. She talked fast, racing the clock.

"It's different for you, Beth. I guess I've known all along, when you met Charlie and everything. I just wanted you so much, so terribly, so selfishly, that I couldn't admit it. I couldn't believe it. But you need a man, you always did. Emmy was right, she understood. If I'd only listened. I was the one who was wrong, about you and her. But I'm not wrong about myself, not any more. And not about you, either."

"Oh, Laura, my dear—"

"We haven't time for tears now, Beth. I've grown up emotionally as far as I can. But you can go farther, you can be better than that. And you must, Beth, if you can. I've no right to hold you back. Her heart shrank inside her at her own words.

"Laura, I misjudged you so. I thought you were such a baby, such a—"

"We've both made mistakes, Beth."

"Can you forgive me? I've been so—"

"You taught me what I am, Beth. I know now, I didn't before. I understand what I am, finally. It's not a question of forgiving. I'm grateful. I can face life, my family, everything now, knowing. That's terribly important. I couldn't before. Don't you see?” She couldn't cry; there were no tears potent enough to relieve her grief. Her control was almost involuntary.

"But I—I've deceived you so. I—"

"It was just an accident, the whole thing, Beth.” The train whistle blew. Laura drew nearer, her eyes profound and wise and wounded. Only five minutes left. “Don't you see what happened, Beth? We were in the same place at the same time and we both needed affection, darling. If it hadn't been that way, I wouldn't have known, I wouldn't have learned about myself, maybe not for a long time. And then it could have been a brutal, terrifying lesson. You made it beautiful, Beth.

"I guess that's all loving ever is—two people in the same place at the same time who need it. Only sometimes, for one, love has all the answers. For the other, it's just a game, a beautiful game. That's what happened to us, Beth. Neither of us willed it that way, it just happened. For you it was an accident, a sort of lovely surprise, and you took it that way. You took me for the little girl you thought I was. It was that little girl you wanted, not me. I had to be that little girl to keep you. I should have faced it then, but I couldn't. I couldn't even think about it.

"You see, for me it was love. A revelation, a forever sort of thing. Only nothing lasts forever. You told me that once."

The whistle called again. Laura got up from the bench and walked swiftly toward the exit. Beth ran after her.

"Oh, Laura, Laura, please don't go, not like this. Please."

"I have to, Beth."

"You're running away.” She followed her outside as Laura hurried toward the stairs up to the train platform.

"No, I'm facing it,” Laura said. “I know what I am, and I can be honest with myself now. I'll live my life as honestly as I can, without ruining it. I can't do that here and I can't do it with you. That's over now."

Beth listened to her words, feeling for the first time the maturity in them; knowing Laura was right and admiring her with a sudden force because Laura had the courage to say these things, these truths, and the strength to do what she knew was right. Beth rushed along beside her, holding her arm, knowing that when she released it, she would release Laura forever; she would never see her or touch her again—and yet knowing that it had to be that way. She would come to Charlie chastened with the knowledge Laura had given her; she would come to him wiser, older, and richer in love because of Laura.

"Laura,” she said as they made their way down the platform, “I'm the one who's been acting like a baby, who's been childish about the whole thing. I never dreamed you were so—so brave.” She couldn't think of a more fitting word. “Laura, I know I'm not making much sense, but I—you do mean so much to me, Laur. So very much. I want you to know. You're not the only one who's learned and who's grateful."

They reached the last car and Laura turned to her. There was the shade of a smile on her face. The pain was awful but the wound was clean. It would heal.

"Beth, I'm not angry. I thought I'd be bitter. I thought I'd hate Charlie if this ever happened. I thought I'd hate you more than anyone else on earth. But I've thought about it a lot, when you were seeing him so much and so happy with him, and I was spending those long nights at home alone. Even now, when you were late getting to the station, I kind of imagined what it would be like. I knew it would hurt, but—somehow I guess I always knew it would happen. It had to; you can't need men and spend the rest of your life with a girl. I knew you weren't—queer—like I am."

The word slapped Beth cruelly in the face. “Laura—” she protested.

"I knew as well as you did that it wouldn't last. Only I couldn't admit it, because I love you."

"Oh, Laura, darling—"

The conductor shouted, “All aboard!"

Laura put her bag on the steps and took Beth's hands again. “Beth, you're meant for a man. Like Charlie. I'm not. I'm not afraid to go, I'm not sorry. It hurts, and I love you—” Her eyes dropped and she almost faltered. “I love you—” she whispered, And Beth felt the pressure of her hands as the train gave a preliminary jerk.

"Laura!” Beth cried, walking by the train, and Laura looked up again.

"But I wouldn't have the strength to face it if I didn't."

Beth reached for her and pulled her head down and kissed her, there on the train platform in the late afternoon sun with the train inching away from her and all Champlain free to watch.

"Laura, I love you,” she said, letting Laura slide from her arms as the train pulled her away. And she meant it, for the first time. She loved her; not as Laura would have wanted her to, but sincerely, honestly, the best love she could offer.

She leaned exhausted against a post and watched the train pull out and her eyes never left Laura's. She stood with quiet tears stinging her cheeks and watched till the train wound its way out of sight.

Then she turned and walked slowly back down the steps and over to the station. She picked up her bag where Laura had left it and walked outside into the sunshine, set it down, and looked at her watch. There was a sudden flutter of new joy in her heart.

She had to hurry; it was almost five-thirty.