by Joan Ellis
"That's an awful load," Eve murmured contritely. "We should have divided it into packages and I could have helped."
"I didn't want to waste time," Phyl smiled at her in satisfaction. "I wanted to know you were moved in here, down to the last pair of stockings."
They reached the top and collapsed on the landing for a breathless few seconds.
"Phyl, you won't be sorry about this, will you?" Eve asked soberly. "It's been so quick. Only two weeks!"
Phyl dropped a hand on Eve's, a new warmth spilling over from her. "We both knew right away. Why delay? We don't need to play games with each other, darling."
"I guess I'm afraid to be so completely happy," Eve mused, and reached into Phyl's jacket pocket for the key. Tomorrow they'd make another key, for her.
"Phyl, are you sure you want me to quit my job?" She busied herself with the door.
"I want you here, in our home," Phyl insisted sturdily. "Evie, don't worry about money—I do very well." A smile escaped her. "I can't wait to buy you things." A ring, she was thinking jubilantly. Two rings as a symbol of their marriage—although she'd never be able to wear hers uptown. Their life together would be apart from the hospital and the office and the professional friends.
"Did you always want to be a doctor?" Eve asked with a little-girl curiosity as they walked into the apartment that suddenly was a very special place.
"I wasn't sure what I wanted to be until I was almost through high school," Phyl smiled reminiscently. "Except that it had to be something where I'd be independent. I couldn't stand the thought of a routine job with bosses over me." Men bosses, she was thinking. She'd done as well as her mother—better, perhaps. She could practice medicine beside any man, wield a scalpel as well as any other OB.
"But what headed you into medicine?" Eve persisted, curled up on the sofa now.
"My mother had a sister, much younger than herself. Actually, she was barely eight years older than me. She died in childbirth, but it wouldn't have happened that way if she'd had a competent doctor. That spearheaded me right into obstetrics."
"You must be very good," Eve decided.
"I try," Phyl acknowledged. "I have to be good."
The phone rang and Eve started. "Your office?" It sounded odd, yet somehow warm and reassuring, Eve thought, because now she was part of that—in away.
"It has to be—nobody else has this number," Phyl said half-apologetically, reaching for the phone. "Yes?"
Eve sat expectantly while Phyl finished off her phone conversation.
"Do you have to leave now?" Eve asked, hating to be left alone here tonight. Her first night, she repeated with silent satisfaction.
"No," Phyl smiled encouragingly. "I have to phone up the patient, give her instructions. At this stage she's better off at home. It may be morning before she calls me back to say she's ready to go in to the hospital."
"Let me dial the number for you." Eve ran across the room and picked up the phone. "I'll be your secretary."
* * *
Phyl felt some of her tenseness deserting her as the days went past. Lord, it was good to have Eve down there! The only nights she returned to the uptown apartment were those when she needed to be on direct call from Bill or Ed. She preferred that neither of them know about the other apartment. As for the answering service, that was nothing more than a disembodied voice attached to a file card of phone numbers. Yet as the days rolled along, Phyl sensed a curiosity mounting up in Eve about the apartment uptown. It was only natural that it should, Phyl reminded herself uneasily.
Phyl drained her coffee cup, watching Eve putter about the kitchen with that pleasantly contented feeling. She would buy her a kitten as a surprise, she decided impulsively. Eve was alone so much. And this "doctor's wife" would have no children to occupy the empty hours. She wished she could give Eve children.
"Like to go uptown with me and look at that cold, clinical apartment of Dr. P.A. Talbert's?" she asked Eve teasingly. "Practically no one except the cleaning woman has ever seen it." Once she'd had Ed up for cocktails with some woman friend. She'd stupidly thought it was his wife he was bringing up. A couple of times Bill Porter had come up for coffee and talk.
"Tonight?" Eve's face shone with interest. "I've been dying to see it."
"Why didn't you say so?" Phyl reproached, though making a point of avoiding Eve's eyes.
"I didn't want to push," Eve said candidly. "I know I can't be part of that business uptown."
"You're part of everything, darling. I couldn't live without you." Phyl's eyes darkened with concern, though, because she knew the lives had to be separate.
"I'll get the dishes out of the way and we can go," Eve decided, pleased. "Maybe we can go somewhere for a cocktail to celebrate while we're up there."
"Okay," Phyl agreed, her mind chasing around for a cocktail lounge not frequented by hospital personnel. She might give herself away—or Eve might. It wasn't worth the gamble. Eve wasn't the drinking type—the cocktail bit was purely an exuberant desire to mark this occasion as special.
Phyl sat down with a cigarette and the evening paper while Eve rushed through the dishes, then disappeared into the bathroom to dress.
"Am I all right?" Eve asked breathlessly, and hung in the doorway waiting for approval.
"You look beautiful," Phyl said honestly. The girl wore a new dress they'd bought together the day before—a sunlight yellow affair that brought auburn lights into her honey-colored hair. Eve had gone the whole works on makeup, and the effect was attractive. "Sophisticated Eve tonight," Phyl joshed, noting the darkly curling lashes, the silver-flecked green eyeshadow.
"I thought in case we bumped into anybody you know," Eve said, outwardly casual, but watching Phyl. Would Phyl be ashamed to have her friends meet her? They didn't have to know the truth.
"You look sensational—I'll be fighting men off in the street," Phyl laughed with an edge of nervousness. "Let's go pick up the car."
* * *
Phyl circled the block three times searching for a parking spot. She was reluctant to utilize the hospital parking area that was open for her use. Her red Triumph was obvious enough as it was. She didn't want to stumble over half the staff of Cosmopolitan tonight.
"Someone's pulling out down the block," Eve said quickly. "See?"
"Good." Phyl drove down close enough to the car that was pulling out to avoid having the parking spot grabbed up by another car. It was almost in front of the house, too, she noticed with pleasure. She'd take Eve up, give her plenty of chance to inspect the place, then they'd walk over to a small cocktail lounge she'd passed frequently en route from the office to the hospital. She doubted that it was a hangout for hospital personnel.
"So that's Cosmopolitan Hospital." Eve leaned forward eagerly while Phyl maneuvered into the parking spot. "I like knowing what it's like, even from the outside. I want to see you some day in one of those white jackets or whatever you wear when you're tending a patient," Eve wound up with a little laugh.
"You've been seeing too many movies and too much TV," Phyl chided, reaching to open the door for Eve. She took the key and dropped it in her jacket pocket and turned to open her side. For a second she froze. But it was useless to pretend she hadn't seen him. He'd spot her car any second now. "Hi, Doug," she called forth blithely, planning to get away with just a wave of the hand.
"Hi," Doug waved back as she swung around the front of the car and headed for the sidewalk. But he didn't continue his crossing toward the hospital. He turned back in Phyl's direction. "What ungrateful patient drags you out on a beautiful evening like this?"
"No patient," Phyl said nervously. "I live here, remember?" They'd discussed apartments one day over coffee in the hospital cafeteria—she'd mentioned living in this building, as did a number of the hospital staff. Her eyes flitted to Eve. So had Doug's.
"Eve, this is Doug Johnston—he's a doctor associated with Cosmopolitan, too." She hesitated imperceptibly. "Mrs. Slater. Eve Slater." She felt the start of surprise
in Eve at being introduced with the marriage status.
"Hello, Eve." Doug viewed her with an interested friendliness. "Your husband a doctor, too?"
"No," Phyl said with unexpected sharpness.
"The way you mentioned the hospital, I thought—" Doug trailed off, his glance drawn back to Eve.
"My husband and I are separated. He doesn't live in New York." What was the matter with Phyl, she wondered anxiously. Why was she upset about meeting this Doug Johnston?
"This is an odd hour for a surgeon to be hospital-bound—or is it some emergency?" Phyl prodded, anxious to break away. She caught the way Doug's eye swung to Eve's hand, seeing she wore a wedding band. The ring she had placed there, Phyl reminded herself with a flush of victory.
"I was free—I have a youngster scheduled for cardiac surgery and I thought I'd look in on him for a few minutes." He grinned self-consciously. "We surgeons aren't all machines, you know." His eyes were quizzical as they rested on Eve, somehow annoying Phyl. He couldn't guess anything, she reminded herself—not from this casual encounter.
"You'll excuse us, Doug? We're meeting some friends." Without realizing it, Phyl linked an arm through Eve's.
"Certainly," Doug said with a sudden stiffness, only now recognizing Phyl's impatience to break away from him. "Have fun." His glance lingered briefly on Eve, then he swerved and headed for the hospital.
Phyl walked beside Eve in silence, trying to rationalize her annoyance with Doug. "Why did you introduce me as Mrs. Slater?" Eve asked softly.
"I don't know," Phyl said slowly. "It slipped out."
"I hate being reminded of Joe," Eve said violently, “I didn't expect it—not from you."
"Honey, I didn't mean it." Phyl's eyes darkened painfully. "All right, maybe I was jealous," she acknowledged. "The way he looked at you—I wanted to bash his head in."
"Phyl, you know" Eve rebuked. "How could you be jealous?"
“You look so beautiful tonight—and I knew all the things in his mind."
"I'm probably not Mrs. Slater any more," Eve guessed somberly. "After I had been here in town about a week I called home—I was so miserable and lost. It was a stupid thing to do, of course. My mother screamed at me for breaking up my marriage. Naturally, to her, everything was all my fault. She said Joe had left for Reno to divorce me."
"I'm glad," Phyl told her. "Now there's nothing left to that, even in name."
"Have you known Doug long?"
"Since I've been in the city. Close to eight months now. I only know him from the hospital." Not socially, she meant. He wasn't somebody who'd be a friend of theirs. What friends did they have, Phyl asked herself honestly. She had made no friends herself, outside the people she knew through her work. Eve knew no one in town. That wasn't good, Phyl reminded herself worriedly. Alone, she'd managed, but together Eve and she needed a life that included others who recognized them and accepted them.
"Phyl, do you suppose I could get some kind of job? I don't mean as a waitress again—something interesting," Eve groped. "Just to have something to do—when you're not around."
"We'll talk about it later," Phyl promised unhappily. She should have realized Eve would be lonely. She'd have to figure out something, some way to keep her occupied. "We can go back now," she said abruptly.
"What do you mean?" Eve's eyes widened as they stopped short.
"I walked past the house because we were supposed to be meeting people, remember?" Phyl said. "Come on, let's get upstairs. Maybe you'd like to fix the apartment up a bit—new drapes and things like that," she suggested with a spurt of optimism. That would give Eve something fresh to think about—for a while.
"Phyl, you were scared to death Doug would find out about us, weren't you?" Eve's question took her by surprise. "Why? Do we look so obvious?"
"I was afraid he'd look at me and know. My eyes love you, darling, every minute. I can't hide that."
"He might guess but he can't prove anything," Eve laughed exultantly. "I dare him to prove anything!"
"Forget about it, Evie," Phyl forced herself to smile. "Here's the house." She held the door open for Eve to enter the small lobby, pushing down a sense of alarm that they might encounter somebody else she knew. Here it was—Eve becoming a part of that uptown life. Phyl knew from this point on it would be impossible to keep the two separate. Could she be clever enough to conceal their relationship? If she slipped even once, she was finished professionally. "If you're serious about wanting to work," she said gently as they waited for the elevator, "I'll look around and see what I can dig up."
"Good, darling." Eve glanced swiftly to make sure the lobby was deserted, then slid her arms about Phyl and reached for her mouth.
Phyl's hands were tight about the slender body, her mouth pinned to Eve's, and then her heart was pounding horribly because the elevator doors had opened and someone stood chuckling in the doorway.
CHAPTER 9
Her face aflame, Phyl pulled Eve by the hand into the now empty elevator. How stupid could they be!
"Phyl, I'm sorry," Eve stammered. "That was my fault. Was it somebody you know?"
"No." She didn't even know if he were a tenant, but she couldn't risk finding out. She'd sublet the place, put it up for sublease tomorrow. There was always somebody in the hospital who wanted an apartment. She'd have to locate something else in the immediate vicinity, though—that was an integral part of her arrangement with Bill and Ed.
"You're furious, aren't you?" Eve's emotional disturbance reached out to Phyl.
"Not at you, Evie," she reassured her quickly. "I get furious at the world!" "Maybe he'll never show up in this building again, he could be a salesman working the neighborhood— you said you didn't know him," Eve tried awkwardly. "He might not even recognize us if he did."
"Forget it, honey." Phyl prodded her out of the elevator and toward the apartment, while her insides churned from that encounter. Phyl remembered with a shudder the contemptuous glint in the man's eyes. That scornful laugh! Oh, he would remember them!
"The hallway is nice," Eve said nervously while Phyl fumbled with the key.
"I hope you like the inside," Phyl manufactured a smile. "Here it is." She swung the door open, and reached for the light switch.
"Phyl, it's lovely." The girl's astonishment somehow touched Phyl. "I didn't expect anything quite so sumptuous. You meant it when you said you did well, didn't you?" She laughed with unexpected sunniness.
"The rent's wild," Phyl agreed, "but that's my big extravagance." She enjoyed living well, Phyl realized for the first time. She had told herself she could live anywhere so long as she could live as herself, but that downtown apartment was drab and shabby and it subconsciously rankled. Especially being here so rarely now, she was able to appreciate the spacious newness of the well-kept building, the comfortably smart furniture she'd bought impatiently but extravagantly when she'd started her practice with Ed and Bill.
"How can you bear coming down to our place when you have something like this here?" A subconscious envy crept into Eve's voice.
"I have you down there," Phyl reminded, taking Eve's face between her hands. "That makes it beautiful."
"Were you honestly jealous of Doug?" Eve asked.
"I told you—I wanted to bash his head in, the way he looked at you." Eve would go back to that other apartment now, and it'd be a drab little hovel where Phyl kept her hidden away, her mind warned her. It id been a mistake to bring her up here—yet how could she have avoided it? Slowly, the idea of bringing Eve out of the Village into her own apartment as infiltrating. Two women lived together often though in New York without being Lesbians. It could be done, if they were clever enough. But they'd have to be so careful—nothing like the recent accident downstairs must occur again. Could they be that careful?
"Phyl, look at me the way you say Doug did," Eve axed provocatively. "Show me."
'Don't I always look at you that way?" Her eyes were the warm blue now that concealed nothing. This was Phyl, the lover.
"I'd kill myself if you were ever truly angry with me, Phyl. I couldn't stand being alone again!"
Tonight wasn't like any of those other times, Phyl realized with surprise, yet for now she enjoyed having Eve the aggressive one. She allowed the girl to guide her onto the low wide sofa, to slowly and methodically strip away the expensively tailored suit, to remove the bra that Phyl hardly needed, to pull away the garter belt and stockings, the simple, unfeminine panties. Phyl lay there, fully outstretched and nude, her eyes smiling at Eve as Eve began to make love to her.
And then she couldn't bear it any longer, and Phyl became the aggressor. Her breath came in tortured gasps as she undressed Eve, stopping to touch, to kiss, to embrace for fleeting instants. This was the way Eve liked it best, Phyl thought triumphantly, as she moved Eve back onto the sofa and their nakedness embraced, body to body. She could satisfy Eve as no man ever could, she told herself, as passion linked them together. Better than Doug! She could make Eve cry with passion, as she was doing now. She could make her scream with completeness, as now. Oh, this was the way. The only way! Let those sanctimonious others call them vile names, hurl their invectives at them. Tins was worth it all. This was worth any price!
* * *
Phyl sat at her desk, enjoying the early morning solitude of the office. It'd be fully an hour before anybody showed up. In a way she was glad about that encounter in the lobby last night. If it hadn't been for that, she wouldn't have worked up the courage to consider moving into another, larger apartment—and to bring Eve with her. She'd find something with two bedrooms—one for her and one for Eve, so far as strangers would know. Two women lived together so often these days, and the world thought nothing of it. She felt a surge of pleasure, imagining Eve's face when she told her.
Phyl stiffened into alertness at the unexpected sound emerging from one of the other offices. She would have heard if anyone had come in through the front. She sat quietly, waiting for a repetition of that sound. There was someone in Ed Madigan's office! She moved from behind her desk, wishing she hadn’t come in this early.