Beebo Brinker Chronicles 1 - Odd Girl Out (19 page)

"I love you, Beth,” he said. And he kissed her.

She clung to him for a minute and then she said, “I love you, Charlie.” It was plain and awesome honesty and it felt deliriously good.

He took her face in his hands. “Beth, take good care of yourself. Take good care of yourself, darling."

EMILY AND LAURA had a brief, bitter exchange of words. Laura precipitated it. She simply looked up from her studies and said, with no introduction, “Emmy, why did you call Charlie?��� She was immediately sorry she had said it, but she was frantically worried about Beth and desperately unhappy.

Emily was startled. “Well—” she said. “She wanted to see him, Laur. It seemed as if it was the only way. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings about it."

"How did you know she wanted to see him?"

"I could just tell, Laur."

"Did it ever occur to you that Beth might not want to go out with him?"

"No, it never did,” said Emmy. This wasn't the Laura Landon of last fall: passive, pleasant, unemotional.

"I don't understand why you don't know Beth any better than you do, Emmy. Sometimes I think you don't know her at all,” Laura snapped.

"Laura, Beth wanted to go out with him. She didn't have to go, you know, even after I called him."

"Well, of course she had to go out with him, after she talked to him. What could she say?"

"I don't know, Laur. What could she say?"

Laura went suddenly cold. Her eyes dropped and she fumbled with her book. “I don't know,” she said in a small voice.

"Why don't you want Beth and Charlie to go out together, Laur?” Emmy's voice was soft. If what she suspected were true, why hadn't Beth been honest with her about it? Beth had never deliberately lied to her before about anything.

"They just—aren't right for each other, that's all."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know Beth!” Laura flared.

"But you don't know Charlie very well."

Laura turned on her. “Emmy, what are you trying to say?"

Emmy, confronted with an angry challenge, was silent.

Laura rose slowly to her feet. “I'm going to bed,” she said icily and walked stiffly to the door.

Emmy sat on the couch uncomfortably. She had no desire to stay in the room, either. It had suddenly become a sinister, unfamiliar place to her. She gathered some books together, scribbled a note to Beth and ran down the hall.

At ten thirty-five, Beth found the note on her dresser: “Laur's in bed. I'm in Bobbie's room. Come get me if you want me. I'll be up late. Love, Em."

Beth crumpled the note and tossed it into the waste-basket, and undressed. She looked at her blouse with the little rips now in place of buttons, and thought of Charlie. But all the cutting words she directed at Laura that afternoon came back to torment her.

She went to the washroom to clean up, and when she got back to the room, Laura was in it. She was standing looking out the window toward the street with her back to Beth. Beth said nothing. She put her things away and stood at her dresser for a minute, silent.

"Beth,” said Laura softly. “I was wrong.” She had learned her lesson. The only way to bring Beth back was to be gentle and yielding with her. It worked before where even the most righteous temper failed. Beth scolded her for being a child, but Laura knew she liked her best that way. Laura was willing to play the game—any game—if it meant keeping Beth.

"If you need Charlie, I guess you should have him,” Laura said. She didn't turn around; she spoke to the windowpanes.

Beth regarded her back. “Laura, I was hateful to you. I was unforgivable."

"Let's not talk about it. I don't want to talk about it. You're forgiven, Beth."

Beth put her arms around her and her head down against Laura's. “Laura,” she whispered.

"I

understand. At least, I'll try to understand."

"Laura ... I need you, honey.” I can't just drop you, so hard, so suddenly. And besides, you're so sweet ... so sweet to hold. Not good like Charlie, but ... I wonder, if I could have you both.

Laura turned around and put her arms around Beth and looked up at her. “Beth,” she said humbly. “Will we be together—just once in a while?"

"Yes, honey.” Beth kissed her forehead. “Yes, we will.” Behind them Emmy pushed the door open. Beth had forgotten to close it all the way and it didn't make a sound. Emmy stood staring.

"Oh, I'm so glad, Laura whispered. “It's all right, then. I'll be all right, if I can have that."

"Of course you can, baby. Oh Laur, I hurt you so."

"You could never hurt me top much, Beth. You can never teach me by hurting me. I just come back for more. I guess I'll never learn. I love you too much. I love you so much."

They kissed each other's lips and Beth liked the velvety softness of Laura's mouth. She could command Laura the way Charlie commanded her. But the authority fulfilled and invigorated Charlie; it only amused Beth and left her empty.

Emmy stood watching them, transfixed and soundless, while Beth rocked Laura gently in her arms and whispered, “We'll work it out, honey. Don't worry.” And then Emmy pulled the door to very quietly, and without letting it catch, and left. She walked down the hall shivering nervously, wondering what to do. She stared unseeing at the bulletin board in the hall with her head full of the strange scene she had just witnessed and the details of it so vivid that she could think of nothing else.

After a little while she heard soft voices down the hall. She turned around and saw Beth and Laura coming toward her.

"Beth?” she said, with a humane impulse to warn them of her presence.

Beth looked up. “Oh, Emmy,” she said. “I thought you were in Bobbie's room."

Emmy hesitated, feeling strangely uncomfortable, and Laura started up the stairs to bed.

"What, Em?” said Beth. She glanced quickly at Laura. “Go on up, Laur,” she whispered. “See you in the morning.” She looked back at Emmy and Emmy found she couldn't say it; she couldn't ask.

"How's Charlie?” she said.

Beth relaxed then and gave her a radiant smile. “Wonderful,” she said. “I'm in love.” And she went upstairs to bed, leaving Emmy confounded. She knew she would have to talk to Beth about Laura, she couldn't keep the things she had seen and heard locked inside of her. But she would wait, she decided, until the next night. Then Beth and she would be alone for the first time in months-Laura would have left for her semester vacation. So Emmy kept her peace for almost twenty-four hours and then discovered, when the time came for her to speak, that she didn't know how to broach the subject.

She looked at Beth with a sort of new timidity and said, dismayed to find her voice raspy, “Beth?"

"Hmm?"

"Beth—"

Beth looked at her. “Why, Emmy, whatever is the matter? You look as if you—” She stopped, wondering. “Emmy, what's the matter?"

"Well—well, I—Beth?” She walked over to her, as if it were too difficult to send her words across the room, and took a deep breath. “Is Laura in love with you?” she asked finally.

"Oh,” said Beth, and her face went very pale. She put her head down for a moment and said, “Oh, Emmy..."

"I know she is. I heard her say it last night. I had to tell you."

"Oh, Em."

"Beth, I won't tell. I won't ever ever tell. I promise.” Emmy held her shoulders and watched her anxiously. Beth couldn't talk. “Do you love her, too?"

Beth lifted her head. “Emmy—come sit on the couch. Listen to me."

They sat down together and Beth tried to explain what had happened to her, and she tried to be honest. Emmy listened without saying a word, watching Beth's face intently. Finally Beth looked up at her and said, “You see, Emmy? Why it's been so hard? Now I'm in love with Charlie. Really in love. But I can't hurt Laura any more. I just can't. I can only wait till it wears off. Till she grows out of it and forgets about me, without my having to hurt her."

"Wouldn't it hurt her less just to tell her you don't want to do it any more?"

Beth played nervously with a cigarette. “Yes, I guess it would. But—you see—that's not it, exactly. I'm not in love with her. That's what I ought to tell her. But—"

"You mean you—still want her?” It was as weird and wonderous to Emmy as sorcery would have been.

"Besides, you're in love with a man."

"Yes, I am. Oh, I am, Emmy, I am!"

"Well, how can you love two people at once, Beth?"

"I can't. That's the whole trouble. I'm in love only with Charlie. But don't you see, Em—Laura can't be in love with me forever. I mean, a schoolgirl crush just doesn't last that long. I know, I've had them. You get over them. She'll get used to the idea of dating—of having me date, too—and pretty soon she'll begin to forget about it. And nobody gets hurt. Do you see?

"Yeah. If it works."

"Emmy, you mustn't worry. Now that she understands about Charlie, there won't be any more trouble. That was the whole trouble before."

"Does she understand about him?"

"Oh, yes.” Beth crushed the cigarette out in a bean-bottomed ashtray.

"Does she know you love him?"

"She knows I need him, Em.” Emmy frowned at her. “Oh, Em, believe me, I know what I'm doing.” She spoke heartily, in order to convince herself. “There won't be any more trouble now. We all understand each other. Everything's going to be all right. Really."

"Does Charlie understand about Laura?"

"Oh, no!” said Beth, and the idea shocked her. “He'll never know."

"I hope not,” Emmy said. “Well, okay, Beth, I trust you.” She had never seen Beth in a situation she couldn't handle.

Beth was right, for a while. She and Charlie were happy, Laura seemed to be happy, and even Mitch seemed to have deserted his books for a gay social life. He'd called Mary Lou and they were seeing a great deal of each other. Even Bud had settled down to a steady routine. He'd given Emmy his fraternity pin, which was in the nature of a minor miracle. Bud had managed to elude every other girl he'd known and leave them unscathed, his pin still firmly attached to his old tennis sweater. But Emmy had won and she was triumphant. She was teased, however. As Beth put it to Laura, “That's just the first plateau. She's trying for the sixty-four-thousand-dollar ring.’ Laura laughed and Beth went on. “She'll never make it. Not with that guy. She'd better switch categories pronto."

Mary Lou said hopefully, “Maybe she'll calm down now and stop panting over him in public."

And so the month went by, peaceful on the surface, but boiling dangerously just below the surface.

The first week in March brought sorority initiation. Laura became a full-fledged Alpha Beta with a pin like Beth's. And she and Beth shared a sentimental bond that Charlie couldn't break.

It eased Laura to think about it on dreary weekends when Beth and Emmy were out with Charlie and Bud and she sat at home alone and studied, for she wasn't going out very much any more. She wouldn't have at all, except when Beth insisted on it, and then she accepted a blind date only to keep peace.

"You've got to go out once in a while, Laur. My God, you dated every week last fall. It'd look just too damn strange if you suddenly quit for no reason."

So she sighed and did as Beth told her. The nicest part of the weekend was at closing hours when Beth came in and Emmy went to bed. Emmy usually went off discreetly and it struck Laura as simple good luck. Beth never told her that Emmy knew.

Once, Laura asked, “Emmy doesn't suspect anything, does she? I mean, I was pretty temperamental a couple of times. Do you think she suspected?"

And Beth laughed and mussed up her hair and said, “Laur, honey, you worry about all the wrong things.” And Laura, as always, took her cue from Beth. Beth wasn't worried, so there was nothing to worry about. Beth didn't think they were doing anything wrong, so they weren't.

Usually when Beth came in she was in a good humor. She wanted to tease and play and cuddle Laura and she was easily roused. It seemed to Laura then that Beth would always come back to her, however far she wandered; that she alone could satisfy her, make her happy. But now and then Beth came in quiet and uncommunicative, simply too satisfied for more passion. And then Laura wondered.

Sometimes Beth was a little drunk and then Laura sulked at her. Beth would tickle her to make her giggle and then laugh at her pout.

"Beth, you've been drinking,” she would say.

"Not against the law, honey. I'm of age."

"That's not the point. I think it's disgusting.” And she would turn her back on Beth's amusement.

"Laura, forgive me,” Beth would plead and laugh at her.

"You smell of gin."

Beth squeezed her and said, “You don't even know what gin smells like."

"I do too!"

"Okay, I smell of gin. I guess you don't want me around. I guess I'd better just go off and leave you alone."

"No, Beth!” And she turned around and caught her arm as Beth started to rise.

Beth pushed her away. “Oh, but I smell of gin, remember? Laur, I don't know how you put up with me. I swear I don't know."

And then Laura would have to beg her to stay and protest that she didn't care what her breath smelled like. But she did.

IN THE MIDDLE of March Bud's fraternity gave a costume dance, an annual affair for which the girls were required to make their own costumes. They were given one square yard of bright colored cotton for that purpose and the one who returned the largest piece of unused cloth won first prize. Some used the whole cloth out of necessity, some out of modesty, and some used as little as they dared.

Emmy used as little as she dared. She achieved a sort of bikini effect much admired by the men and frowned upon by the conservative element in Alpha Beta, headed by Mary Lou. Before she went out Emmy modeled her creation in the upstairs hall.

"Emmy, I think that's a little—bare,” said Mary Lou. “Oh, heck, Mary Lou, there'll be a dozen others just like it."

"Well, I know, but it's awfully revealing.” The girls laughed at her and said, “Oh, they all wear ‘em now, Mary Lou."

"I think she looks great."

"Emmy, if you don't win first prize, nobody can."