Chris (6 page)

Chris let Dizz lead her back to the apartment. She stumbled down the hall and through the door and into the living room. She fell face down on the couch.

Dizz took Chris' damp shoes and set them in the kitchen near the stove. She went to the closet in her room and returned with a maroon wool blanket. She came to the couch and sat down beside Chris, letting the blanket fall to the floor.

Dizz slipped the skirt down over Chris' hips and legs, then struggled with the jacket. She tossed both onto the sling chair, stood up and tucked the blanket snugly around the still figure.

Then she bent down and kissed an earlobe.

She quietly left the room. In a few minutes she returned with a mug of steaming coffee and a tumbler containing her favorite home remedy. She put both down on the floor by the couch.

“Honey," she said, shaking Chris by the shoulder, “Honey, look at me." Chris made a grunt that meant no. "Chris, look at me. You're not going to die." Dizz knelt beside Chris and reached out a hand to smooth the rumpled black hair. "Please, baby."

Chris laboriously maneuvered her head around and managed to open one eye. She stared bleakly at Dizz, closed the eye, and slowly opened it again.

“Good girl," Dizz said. "Now pick up your head. I want you to drink this." She held the glass before the open eye.

Between them they got Chris propped on one elbow and the tonic safely inside.

"Okay," Dizz said. "Fifteen minutes and you'll be fine.”

In about twelve Chris made a beeline for the john. She had a pretty good remedy of her own.

She crept back into the living room and grinned sheepishly at Dizz.

Dizz burst out laughing and came to help Chris back the couch. "May I join you?" she asked.

"Be my guest."

Dizz stepped out of her dress and threw it on top of Chris' things in the chair. Then she got under the cover with Chris and nestled into her arms.

It occurred to Chris that a couple of hours before Carol had been in the same position. But with Carol she had buried her face in the girl's neck and run her fingers lovingly over the warm breasts. With Dizz she would not dare. With Dizz she must find conversation. "How's Schnitzel?" That was a fair venture.

"He's just fine. Do you know, I actually got to like the little devil. And he was awfully good in the car. I thought he might get sick or something."

"And George?"

"He's just fine, too," Dizz said. "We stopped on the way back for dinner. There was an orchestra there and we danced a little. I wish you liked to dance, darling." She leaned her head against Chris' jaw.

"I used to," Chris said. "You told me once I looked like a clown."

"Oh, silly," Dizz laughed. "You know better than to listen to me when I'm annoyed."

"Sure," Chris answered. She did not admit that she no longer knew when that was. That, in fact, Dizz seemed annoyed with her or herself or just the whole damned world most of the time.

"Anyhow, we danced and ate and had a couple of drinks. I like George," Dizz said. "He's good company. Witty, intelligent. He seems to know something about everything." She paused, then went on enthusiastically. "Not just something, but enough to hold his own with experts." Her voice dropped to an impressive tone. "He was Phi Beta Kappa at Harvard, you know."

"What else does he do?" Chris asked with disarming innocence.

Dizz hesitated for just a second. “I’ll ignore that remark," she said.

Dizz, Chris appreciated, was in rare good humor. It would not be safe to test it too far. But the bourbon or something had given her a sneaky courage. She decided to push on.

"Well," she said, "I thought maybe he does card tricks or parlor magic or some such thing that might bring him down to my level of comprehension."

Dizz turned to look at her, a puzzled frown on her beautiful face.

Chris remained serenely calm.

"Darling," Dizz said quietly, "have I made a faux pas? Should I go stand in the corner or something?" She was trying hard to be flip, but there was a slight tremor in the lower lip.

Chris saw it and was immediately consumed by guilt. What a lumbering ass she was, to take Dizz when she was happy about something and make her wretched. Sometimes months went by before Dizz got excited about anything.

"Honey," she said smilingly, "you know better than to listen to anything I say when I'm annoyed.”

“Annoyed about what?"

“Myself, for getting drunk. You go off and leave me for an afternoon and I behave like a child. Do all kinds of stupid things." At the moment she almost believed what she heard herself saying.

"But what on earth have you done?" Dizz asked, a little worriedly.

For ten seconds Chris tottered on the brink of confession. Then she said, "What doesn't matter. Just that I'm ;ling especially proud of myself."

Dizz breathed a sigh of relief. "Well," she said, "It probably wasn't anything you haven't done before.”

Chris looked at her closely, searching for the hidden barb behind the words. It was not often that Dizz spoke of her activities without condemning them. But she could find no malice on the gorgeous face.

Chris relaxed and laughed. "Sometimes you scare me, miss," she said. She pulled Dizz closer and hugged her affectionately. "And, honey, I didn't mean to pick on you. Or on George."

"I know, darling. And I didn't mean to babble on like that." She kissed Chris lightly on the cheek. "But let's forget about George."

"Gladly," Chris said. "How about a hot cup of coffee? I could use it."

Dizz crawled out from under the blanket and stooped to pick up the cup. "Would you like something to eat, darling? I've got some chicken and an apple pie in the refrigerator."

Chris put a hand to her aching head. "Oh, baby, don't mention food to me. I'll probably never eat again."

"That I doubt," Dizz said from the kitchen. She came back a few minutes later with two full cups and handed one to Chris.

Chris downed the strong black coffee in three gulps. "Thanks," she said.

Dizz handed her the second cup. "Dessert," she smiled.

Chris took a sip from the second cup of coffee. Her head was beginning to calm down. A few more minutes and she'd be feeling alive again.

Dizz moved Chris' clothes off the chair and carried them into Chris' room. She took her dress into her closet and hung it on a hanger behind the door. She was humming happily to herself and the smile on her face was from her heart.

Chris lay on the couch, watching her and pleased that her woman, for whatever reason, was in a light mood. At moments like this, rare as they were, she knew she was the luckiest person in the world to possess this woman.

Dizz came back into the living room. "I don't mean to be a spoil sport, honey," Dizz said. "But have you finished that article I was supposed to remind you about?"

Chris stared at her blankly for a moment, then sat bolt upright. "My God, I forgot all about it," she said. "You were supposed to remind me a week ago."

“I forgot," Dizz admitted.

They both laughed.

Chris stood up unsteadily and started toward her bedroom. "Look, kid, I've got all the material I need. Would you mind using a little of that rusty shorthand you're always bragging about?" She looked at Dizz pleadingly. "I promised to deliver the blamed thing tomorrow." She leaned wearily against the door jamb. "And, frankly, I couldn't hit a typewriter key tonight if my life depended on it."

"You mean this morning, but I get the idea," Dizz said. "Hurry up, darling. I'll get some paper."

Chris returned with a sheaf of neatly hand-written notes. She sat down on the couch.

Dizz took a seat on the floor beside Chris and leaned a notebook on her crossed knees. She looked up at Chris, waiting for her to start.

Chris took a sip of coffee, then relaxed against the couch. She began to dictate.

It was almost six when Dizz pulled the last sheet from the typewriter. Chris was stretched out on the couch, sleeping soundly. She had lasted till about five, then collapsed apologetically.

Dizz stacked the sheets neatly on the end table. She moved to the couch and smiled down at the sleeping figure.

Chris grumbled and opened her eyes when Dizz tried to lie down beside her. Then she smiled like a contented baby and opened her arms wide.

Dizz crawled in beside Chris and moved tight against her. "All finished, baby," she whispered.

"Thank you, darling," Chris whispered back. Even in her sleepy state, she felt the marvelous magic of Dizz begin to take possession of her. She buried her nose in the soft blonde hair and pressed her lips to the scalp.

Dizz stirred in her arms. She raised her mouth to Chris.

Chris held the girl close and brought her mouth down hard on the waiting lips. Their tongues met, searched. Like a whirlwind, desire grew in Chris. Her woman, lying in her arms, wanting her, wanting her, not turning away in disgust. Not stopping her eager hands.

Chris' elation knew no bounds. She had not touched Dizz like this, loved her like this, for many lonely, bitter months. She felt again the wild flow of passion she had felt that first night. Her body ached with the need to possess Dizz, to seek again the fulfillment they had never known together.

She put her lips against the soft smooth cheek.

"Dizz, darling, please," she whispered hoarsely.

"Yes, darling, yes. Love me, Chris. Love me."

For a long, long moment they were absorbed, lost in each other, oblivious of time, of the world, oblivious of everything but the moment. Then the aftermath, like the quiet after the storm. The predictable end. Dizz in the exquisite agony of frustration. Dizz staring into the darkness. And Chris alone and shivering in an exquisite agony of her own.

Lying behind Dizz, Chris put her arms around the girl's waist and bowed her head between the shoulders. Death would have been welcome at that moment.

Chris dug her teeth into her trembling lip and closed her eyes tight to hold back the tears.

The phone rang that morning at ten.

Dizz stirred, but did not wake up.

The phone rang again and again. Finally Dizz moved an arm and pushed back the covers. She sat up and groaned. Then she reached for the phone.

Through a cottony haze Chris heard Dizz speaking to someone. She gathered the call was for her.

"Is it important, Jonathan? She's still asleep." A long pause. "All right. Hold on a minute."

Chris felt Dizz sit down on the couch beside her and tickle her ear with a fingertip. Chris swatted as though to brush away a fly.

"Chris, wake up," Dizz said sternly. "Jonathan's on the phone. I really can't figure out what he's trying to say. But he said to tell you Max is in town with something big."

"Max," Chris shouted. "Why didn't you say so?" She threw back the blanket and sat up. "Hand me the phone."

Dizz obediently did as she was told. Then she sat down on the couch, too curious not to listen.

Chris took the phone and barked into it, her voice thick with alcohol and not enough sleep. "Jonathan?" she said. "What's happening?"

"Chris, Max reached port this morning. He just called. He wants to see you. He wouldn't say much on the phone, of course." Dr. Brandt's voice rose to a shriek. "But he wants five thousand."

Chris whistled through her teeth. "What's he got? Neptune's triton?" For five thousand, Chris thought, that's the least we should expect.

"Humpf," sniffed Dr. Brandt. ‘I wouldn't give him five thousand if he'd found Atlantis. I told him we couldn't go over five hundred. He'll take it," he said smugly.

"Okay," Chris said. "I'll see him this afternoon. Same place?”

"Yes."

"Right. I'll get in touch with you later." Chris banged down the receiver and stood up. She started toward the bathroom. "Just coffee, Dizz. I'm in a hurry."

Dizz sat looking after her in amazement. "So I see," she commented. "But you're not leaving here with a hangover and an empty stomach."

"Who's got a hangover?" Chris said from the bathroom. "I feel wonderful."

"Well, I've got one if you haven't," Dizz answered, following her into the room. She put down the lid on the toilet and sat down.

Chris turned on the hot water in the tub and nipped the handle on the stopper to "Closed". Then she turned to the sink, took a pink toothbrush from the cup holder and squeezed out a long strip of tooth paste. She brushed vigorously and rinsed her mouth.

"Well?" Dizz said.

Chris turned off the water and stuck an inquiring toe into the tub. She added a dash of cold. Without pausing to answer Dizz, she climbed in and began to work up a lather.

"Well?" Dizz said again.

"Well what?" Chris said.

"Don't be difficult. Who is Max?"

"Max is a man," Chris said.

Dizz clucked irritably. "Look, child, you never got this excited over a man in your life. Who is Max?"

Chris laughed. "Wash my back, will you?"

Dizz came and leaned over the tub. She took the wash cloth and the soap and gave the broad back a good scrub. Then she stood up.

"Well?" she said.

"Well what?" Chris answered.

"Oh, go to hell!" Dizz said and stalked out, slamming the door behind her.

Chris grinned and fished for the soap. She lathered the cloth and briskly scrubbed one long leg, then the other.

She got a secret pleasure out of deviling Dizz that way. She knew it was mostly a sadistic urge, a desire to get even. For last night and for all the other nights, she had to hit back.

Chris frowned. Even in her frustration she knew it was not right to blame Dizz. God knows, Dizz isn't happy about it, Chris thought. The way she lies there, in an agony too thick for me to penetrate. A million miles away from me and from anyone who would try to help her.

Well, she sighed, not much I can do about that. Except live with it. And love her and want her and never really have her.

Chris opened the drain and stepped out of the tub. She picked up a towel and began to dry. She had put away her problem with Dizz and turned her thoughts to Max.

I hope it's something big, she thought. Something that'll get me away from a typewriter for a while and back into the sea.