Beebo Brinker Chronicles 1 - Odd Girl Out (2 page)

"Don't you really wear any—any underwear?” Her whole upbringing revolted at this. “You must wear some."

Beth shook her head, enjoying Laura's distress and surprised at how little it took to shock her. Laura looked at her with growing outrage until she burst out laughing and Emily intervened sympathetically.

"Beth, you're going to make your poor little roommate think she's fallen in with a couple of queers,” she said with a giggle.

Beth grinned at Laura and the younger girl felt strangely as if the bottom had fallen out of her stomach.

"She has,” said Beth with emphatic cheerfulness. “She ought to know the dreadful truth. We're characters, Laura. Desirable characters, of course, but still characters. Are you with us?"

Laura wished for a moment that she were all alone in a vacuum. She didn't know whether to take Beth seriously or not; she felt as if Beth were testing her, challenging her, and she didn't know how to meet the challenge. She transferred a sweater nervously from one hand to the other and tried to answer. Nobody was a more rigid conformist, farther from a character, than Laura Landon. But the bothersome need to please Beth prompted her to say weakly, “Yes."

She put the sweater in a drawer, turning away from Beth and Emily as she did so, and silently and secretly scraped the white undersides of her forearms. It was an old gesture. Whenever she was disappointed with herself she bruised herself physically. The sad red lines she raised on her skin were her expiation, a way of squaring with herself.

Beth, who could see she had gone far enough, confined herself for a while to friendly suggestions and answering questions. It was a great relief to Laura. She was almost herself again when Beth suggested a tour of the sorority house.

The two girls went first up to the dormitory on the third floor, where everybody but the housemother and the household help slept.

"Does anyone ever sleep in the rooms?” Laura asked as they mounted the stairs.

"Oh, once in a while. In the winter, when the dorm is really cold, some of the kids sleep in their rooms. The studio couches unfold into double beds. They can sleep two."

They had entered the big quiet dorm with its dozens of iron bunk beds smothered in comforters and down pillows and bright blankets. Laura shivered in the chill while Beth pointed out her unmade bed to her.

"We'll have to come back and make it up later,” she said.

Beth had then led Laura down to the basement. She was enjoying this new role of guide and guardian, enjoying even more Laura's unquestioning acceptance of it. They found themselves playing a pleasant little game without ever having to refer to the rules: when they reached the door to the back stairs together, Laura stopped, as if automatically, and let Beth hold the door for her. Laura, who tried almost instinctively to be more polite than anybody else, readily gave up all the small faintly masculine courtesies to Beth, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if Beth expected it of her. There was no hint that such an agreeable little game could suddenly turn fast and wild and lawless.

In the basement Beth showed her the luggage room, shelved to the ceiling and crowded with all manner of plaid and plastic and leather cases. In the rear of the room was a closed door.

Beth turned around to go out and bumped softly into Laura, who had been waiting for an explanation of the closed door. Laura jumped back and Beth smiled slowly and said, “I won't eat you, Laur."

Laura felt a crazy wish to turn and run, but she held her ground, unable to answer.

Beth put her hands gently on Laura's shoulders. “Are you afraid of me, Laur? she said. There was a long, terribly bright and searching silence.

"I—I wondered what the door in back was to,” Laura faltered. Her sentence seemed to hang suspended, without a period.

Beth let her hands drop. “That's the chapter room,” she said. “Verboten. Until you're initiated, of course."

"Oh,” said Laura, and she walked out of the luggage room with Beth's strange smile wreaking havoc in the pit of her stomach.

On the way upstairs they met Mary Lou Baker, the president of Alpha Beta. She came down the stairs toward them, towing a bulging bundle of laundry which bumped dutifully down the stairs behind her. She smiled at them and said, “Hi there. How's the unpacking coming along, Laura?"

"Fine, thank you.” Laura watched Mary Lou retreat into the basement, impressed with her importance.

"She likes you,” said Beth as they headed back up to their room.

"She does?” Laura smiled, pleasantly surprised.

"Um-hmm,” Beth answered. Usually she has nothing to say to newcomers for a few weeks. If she notices you right away it's a good sign. At least it is if you're interested in her approval.” She said this rather disparagingly.

Walking down the hall behind her, Laura smiled.

And now here they were in the calm of a Sunday night, alone in their room, curious and shy at the same time. Beth finished her Coke and set the bottle down on a glass-topped coffee table in front of the studio couch. The clack of glass on glass startled Laura and the pledge manual slipped from her hands to the floor.

"Want to go make your bed up now?” Beth said. Her voice was soft, as if she were rather tired.

"Oh, yes. I guess I'd better."

"I'll help you.” Beth sat up, swinging her long legs to the floor. She sat still for a minute as if getting her bearings, looking at her feet. Then she lit a cigarette. “Come on, let's go do it,” she said finally with sudden brightness.

"I'll do it, Beth,” said Laura firmly. “You've done so much for me today, I just hate to have you do any more."

Beth blew smoke over the table top. “Laura, if you don't stop thanking me for everything you're going to wear me out,” she said. “Or turn my head.” She said this good-naturedly, to tease more than to scold. But then she saw that she had hurt Laura and she wanted instantly to reach out with comfort and reassurance. She was not impatient with Laura's hypersensitivity, only unused to it. She never knew when she might scrape against it and cause pain.

Laura's mouth tightened and she gripped the cover of her pledge manual in an effort to calm herself.

"Laura,” said Beth in a gentle voice, and she got up and went over to her. Laura drew back in surprise as Beth dropped to her knees in front of the chair, putting a hand on Laura's knees and smiling up at her. Laura was too startled to pretend composure.

"Laur, have I hurt your feelings, honey? I have, haven't I? Answer me."

Laura said helplessly, “No, Beth, really—"

"I know I have,” Beth interrupted her. “I'm sorry, Laur. You mustn't take me so seriously. I'm only teasing. I like to tease, but I don't like to hurt people. You just have to get used to me, that's all. Take me with a grain of salt.” She looked earnestly at her with the shade of a smile on her lips and she thought how good it would be to skid her hands hard up Laura s thighs and ... So she kept talking. It was better to ignore the peculiar feelings Laura awoke in her; she covered her confusion with words.

"Because I want us to be good friends,” she went on. “And I'll try not to—to shock you any more. I guess I'm a little crazy—the results of a misspent youth, or course.” And she grinned. “But I'm not dangerous, honest to God. Now—” she smacked Laura's knees amiably—"we're over the first crisis. Are we going to be friends, Laur?"

Laura wanted desperately to pull her knees together. “Yes,” she said to Beth. “I hope so."

"Good!” said Beth and she bounced to her feet. “Come along, then. Let's make your bed."

It hadn't taken long to make up the austere box bed and Laura found herself back in the room and faced with the humiliating problem of undressing in front of somebody else. Her shyness settled in her cheeks and neck like a heat rash. As soon as she felt the burn, it spread to her shoulders and bosom. She blushed very easily and she despised herself for it. She wanted to scratch at her arms again, but because Beth would notice it she had to content herself with biting the tender flesh of her underlip until she was afraid it would bleed and cause her more grief.

She turned as far from Beth as she could and unbuttoned her blouse, somehow feeling that Beth's bright eyes were doting on every button. But Beth was subtle; she was humming a tune and busy with her pajamas. She saw Laura without seeming to and Laura began to envy her pleasant abandon. After a moment she said, “Laur, do you have a sweatshirt?"

"Yes.” Laura eyed her quizzically.

"Better put it on. The dorm is a damn deep freeze."

Laura found the sweatshirt and pulled it over her head, and Beth led her up to the dorm. On the door was posted a wake-up chart with a pencil on a string hanging beside it. Beth signed Laura's name under “6:45."

"Think you can find your bed?” she asked.

"There it is,” said Laura, pointing.

"Okay, in you go,” said Beth.

Laura studied the upper bunk, which looked unattainable. “How?” she faltered.

Beth laughed quietly. “Well, look,” she said. “Put your foot on the rung of the lower bunk—no, no, wait!—that's right,” she said, guiding her. “Now, get your knee on the rung of the bed next door. Now, just roll in. Whoops!” she said, catching Laura as she nearly lost her balance. She gave her a push in the right direction. Laura rolled awkwardly onto her bunk, laughing with Beth.

Beth climbed up where she could see her and said, “You'll catch on, Laur. Doesn't take long.” She helped Laura under the covers and tucked her in, and it was so lovely to let herself be cared for that Laura lay still, enjoying it like a child. When Beth was about to leave her, Laura reached for her naturally, like a little girl expecting a good-night kiss. Beth bent over her and said, “What is it, honey?"

With a hard shock of realization, Laura stopped herself. She pulled her hands away from Beth and clutched the covers with them.

"Nothing.” It was a small voice.

Beth pushed Laura's hair back and gazed at her and for a heart-stopping moment Laura thought she would lean down and kiss her forehead. But she only said, “Okay. Sleep tight, honey.” And climbed down.

Laura raised herself cautiously on one elbow so she could watch her leave the dorm. Beth went out and shut the door and Laura was left to her strange cold bed in the great dark dormitory. She felt cut loose from reality.

It took her a long while to get to sleep. Her nerves were brittle as ice and they all seemed to be snapping from the day's pressure. She lay motionless on her back and studied the luminous checkers on the ceiling, laid there through the window by the light of the fire escape. She thought of Beth: Beth beside her watching her, whispering to her, reaching put to touch her.

The stillness grew and lengthened and Laura lay in it alone with her thoughts. Far away on the campus the clock on the Student Union steeple pulsed twelve times through the waiting night. Laura pulled her covers tight under her chin and tried to sleep. She was just drifting off when she heard someone stop by her bed and she opened her heavy eyes and saw Beth outlined by the night light.

"Still awake?” she whispered.

"I'm sorry. I'm dropping off now.” Laura felt guilty; caught with her eyes open when they should have been shut; caught peeking at nothing; caught thinking of Beth.

"Just wanted to make sure you were all right."

"Oh yes, thank you."

"Shhh!” hissed someone from a neighboring bed.

"Sorry!” Beth hissed back, and then turned to Laura again. “Okay, go to sleep now,” she said, and she gave Laura's arm a pat.

"I will,” Laura whispered.

AT SIX FORTY-FIVE, Laura heard a soft voice whispering, “Time to get up, Laura.” She sat up immediately in her bed as if pulled by a wire, and looked over to see an unusually pretty face staring up at her.

"Thank you,” she said.

The face smiled and whispered, “Wow, are you easy to wake up!” and moved away.

Laura had a good morning. She spent a lot of it wondering about her strange desire for a good-night kiss from Beth, and hoping Beth hadn't understood her sudden aborted gesture. At lunchtime she sat with everybody in the big sunny dining room, talking while she ate. She glanced over at Beth, who sat two tables away from her and found Beth returning the look. Laura answered her smile and turned, in confusion, to prospecting for nuggets of hamburger in her chili.

After lunch they studied together for a while. Laura sat down with her book in a large green butterfly chair in the corner and struggled to get comfortable. She was still trying to conform to the incomprehensible chair when Emily ran in from the washroom, grabbed her coat and a notebook, and ran out again. Seconds later she was back.

"Hey Beth, if Bud calls tell him I'll see him at Maxie's at four."

Beth pulled her reading glasses down to the end of her nose and looked over them. “Right,” she said.

"Thanks.” And Emmy was gone.

Beth stared after her, shaking her head and smiling a little.

"What?” said Laura.

"I just don't get it. Or rather, I get it but I don't like it. He's too crazy for her. Emmy needs a steadying influence.” She winked at Laura and turned back to her book.

Laura began to glance furtively at her, half expecting her to be looking back, and she was rather disappointed when Beth kept her nose in the book. After a while Laura gazed openly at her, resentful of the book that claimed all Beth's attention. And then she forgot the hook and thought only of Beth....

The two girls walked to their afternoon class together. It was a brisk day, snappy and sunny and invigorating. Beth walked with long, smooth strides. She liked to walk and she walked well, as if she were really enjoying her legs; enjoying the rhythmic cooperation between legs and lungs, crisp weather, space and speed. She had a lusty health that almost intimidated Laura, who was breathless with trying to keep up. And breathless, too, with pleasure at walking beside Beth.

They arrived in class five minutes late, and the instructor had already started his lecture. He interrupted himself to note, while gazing out the window with a wry smile, “Glad you could make it, Miss Cullison.” Beth, slipping out of her coat, looked up at him with a in. They were friendly enemies, she and the teacher; they liked to catch each other slipping up somewhere.