Odd Girl

by Artemis Smith

  "I hope you don't mind turtle soup," Carl said, serving from the bowl that the maid had brought in.

  "Not at all," Anne said. He had revived her interest. She wondered if homemade turtle soup was better than the soup in cans. Eating had always been one of the pleasures of life for her and now it almost compensated for the lack of Esther. She tried a spoonful and said, "It's very good."

  "Fine," Carl said. "You must come to lunch often." Then he added, "As a matter of fact, why not tomorrow? Esther will be here, and we can all hear Bach."

  Anne was pleasantly surprised and said thank you. Jacques winked at her reassuringly. "Where is Esther now?" she asked.

  "With her aunt," Carl said briefly.

  So, Esther had some sort of family. Carl's house was a place for her to escape to, like Mark's apartment had been a retreat for Anne. At once Anne felt a kinship with Esther and wondered again in what way Carl fit into her life. There had to be more to their relationship than Jacques had seen. People were more complex than that.

  "Tell me about Esther," she said to Carl. Hearing his opinion of her would give some clue.

  "What would you like to know?" Carl asked.

  "Is she gay?" Anne said seriously, "I mean, really so?" She knew this was a loaded question to ask—Carl's answer would betray his own feelings for Esther.

  Carl looked up at her and searched her face with his eyes and then looked down and took another spoonful of soup. Anne thought he seemed disturbed by her question. Finally he said, "She thinks so. Let's put it that way." He almost mumbled this and quickly swallowed more soup.

  "Then you think it's mostly psychological, even curable," Anne said, pursuing his answer.

  Carl paused for a long moment and then looked up at her. "Yes," he said, challenging her.

  Anne took another spoonful of soup and dropped the subject.

  They finished and the maid came in again with the main course. Carl proudly carved the steak which was bathed in mushrooms and red wine.

  Anne ate with less appetite. Carl's attitude toward Esther had soured her meal. He was, fundamentally, the same as Mark. He refused to admit to others or to himself that Esther's preferring women to men was anything more than a temporary state of mind. Anne wondered why he felt this way. Surely he was not the same as Mark—he did not seem to be interested in women as Mark was. Then why was he interested in Esther? Was it because Esther, in being unobtainable, fulfilled a double purpose—an opportunity to assert his normalcy, and yet no obligation to follow through? Anne decided she would have to watch Carl carefully. He was not about to let Esther slip away from him; he was not about to let Anne or anyone else make a lasting impression on her.

  They had finished the steak in silence and part of the dessert of brandied cherries before Carl decided to break the quiet.

  "I hope you two planned to stay all day," he said. "I have first editions dying to be shown, and records itching to be heard." Then he added, almost pleadingly, "It gets so lonely here day after day. I'm crammed full of things to tell you."

  Anne looked at Jacques and sighed. Carl was pitifully alone, with his dull house and his dull books and records. She prepared herself for a tedious afternoon. Her one consolation was that Jacques at least would find it interesting.

  And so they rose from the table and went back to the study and sat, and allowed themselves to be shown things that were in their own way magnificent; but in the present setting, in Anne's present mood—her impatient mood of hoping that Esther would come home—they were oppressively boring.

  Carl was leaving a wide berth between himself and Anne, addressing everything indirectly to Jacques. He seemed afraid of her, and yet determined to be friends, determined to play a harmless—or nearly harmless—game with her where Esther was the prize. It was a strange, strained afternoon. And then Esther did come.

  It was about five o'clock and the conversation had died. Anne was holding an eleventh-century manuscript asserting the existence of Pope Joan, encased in plastic and difficult to read. The hi-fi set had just finished blasting a chorus of castrati and the arm was revolving defiantly, despite its pretense of being automatic. The heavy wrought-iron door to the outside world opened with a creak and shut with the determination of a vault. Anne looked up and saw Esther. There was a long pause and then Esther's black velvet voice said hello.

  She stood directly below a chandelier and the dull light made her ghostly. Her skin was stark white and her hair raven black. She wore a dress this time, a many-colored Indian print. There was a wide, suggestive belt around her waist.

  "We've been waiting for you," Carl said as if he had expected to see her. Anne wondered if he had kept them there for that reason.

  "I couldn't get away," she said coldly. Now she stepped out of the light, kicked off her shoes, and sat on the sofa opposite Anne. "Nice to see you again, Anne."

  Anne did not reply. She was studying Esther. Esther in a dress was a different person, self-assured, almost cruel, in many ways very much like Beth. Esther in a dress seemed somehow to belong to Carl.

  Esther laughed, feeling uneasy at Anne's gaze. "What are you staring at?"

  Anne looked down in embarrassment. She had been caught. "Just studying you," she said. "I paint, you see." She felt she had to add the last in order to give an excuse.

  Esther smiled victoriously. "I'm glad you came. I'm sorry I got here so late."

  "Carl has kept us well entertained," Jacques interrupted. "I told Anne she might visit tomorrow if she wanted," Carl said.

  "That's very nice." Esther's eyes were looking far into the corner of the room. "You must come tomorrow, Anne." She rose and walked to the doorway. "Please excuse me. Unfortunately, I have a date."

  Esther was gone again, and Anne found herself unable to make the adjustment between her having been there and having left. She rose abruptly and said, "It's getting late."

  Jacques rose, reluctantly, and Carl came to them and shook their hands, this time not detaining them. "Until tomorrow," he said to Anne.

  "Thank you," Anne said. She shook his hand with a firm grasp, and realized how weak he was. The sickness of his touch made her shiver.

  Anne had exhausted her conversation for the evening; she could think only of seeing Esther tomorrow. They drove back silently in Jacques' Model Q. Anne's nerves were on edge, and she wondered if Jacques could see the tremor in her hands. Seeing Esther and spending the afternoon with Carl had upset her. She could not hate Carl, but now she was beginning to loathe his connection with Esther, however passive that connection might be. Esther did not mind having Carl near her, could tolerate his presence. But Anne could not tolerate Carl's presence—she could not tolerate the presence of any man. They smell, her mind repeated, with or without cologne, like animals of a different species. Men were like that—alien, unnatural to her life, to be experienced only at a distance.

  "Shall I take you home?" Jacques said quietly. He had been leaving her to her thoughts.

  "Yes, thanks," she said.

  "Carl upset you?" Jacques said.

  "I don't know what to think of Esther," she replied, skipping several spaces in thought. "She's so much like Beth."

  "Alice, you'll be seeing Beth all your life!" he exclaimed, for a moment impatiently relapsing into gay terms. "Don't you ever expect to like someone else?"

  Anne gave only a sad laugh in reply.

  "Are you going tomorrow?" Jacques asked, now worried that it was not such a good idea.

  "Why not?" she said. "She's good for a night."

  He winced, and Anne was amused. Jacques was more easily shocked than it seemed. He was still so young; not half so experienced as he would have her think.

  She sat back in the seat and closed her eyes. She was full of plans for meeting Esther tomorrow. Again she was feeling the excitement of courtship, and again the fear, the deep-down fear that all would go wrong—that Esther would come to mean as much as Beth; and then—like Beth—would leave, would prefer Carl, a man.

 
CHAPTER 5

  Sheer will enabled Anne to sleep that night. The light from across the street, flashing on and off through the blinds, seemed to keep in time with her pulse and the throb in her forehead. It was not so much the expectation of Esther but the knowledge that Beth was near, in her apartment on the other side of town, waiting to go on the road. Anne ached to call her, had ached to call for two weeks. She had picked up the receiver many times and each time had stopped herself. Beth did not want to be called, for Anne's own good Beth did not want to be called. Beth doesn't love me. Beth can never love me, I'm strictly kicks to her.

  But tonight the white telephone, so clearly defined in the dark of the room, was an alive, and tormenting thing. It sat waiting, ready to be used.

  Dammit, Anne cursed, I won't fight with myself this way. She looked at her watch. It was past midnight, but Beth would still be awake. She picked up the phone roughly and dialed. Each second was full then as she heard the quiet ring in the receiver and then the phone was answered and it was like a splash of cold water on her face. She awakened from being half asleep and realized that Beth had answered, and that she, Anne, was being very foolish.

  "I'm sorry, Beth," she said. "I shouldn't have called you. I'll hang up again." And before Beth could answer the white telephone was closed and perched on the table again like a fat little snowman, laughing.

  She lay flat on the sheets, closed her eyes and tried to sleep—until a buzzing current in her ears made her eyes open slowly and see the room. It was the doorbell.

  The full impact did not come to her. She rose automatically, wrapping a sheet around her, and went to the door. It was Beth, standing there in a raincoat, a kerchief around her hair. She looked very strong and concerned.

  "Hello, sleepy," she smiled. It was the warm, loving smile that had thrilled Anne the first time she saw Beth. It woke her and she began to shiver. Beth covered her shoulders with her arm and closed the door behind them. It was so good to be in Beth's arms once more, so good, so comfortable and soothing, so much like home. Beth kissed her cheek and then her neck and then her breast, and then they sat on the bed and Anne let Beth take away the shivers with her hands.

  "I've been such a fool," Beth said. "I should have known it would come to this."

  Anne took her hand and kissed it fondly and rubbed her cheek against it to make herself aware that Beth was really there, was not just a dream.

  "What am I going to do with you?" Beth sighed, taking away her hand and rubbing Anne's hair fondly.

  "It's so good to see you again," Anne said, holding her tightly. "I had given up hope."

  Beth lifted Anne's head gently by the hair and kissed her mouth and then pressed her cheek against Anne's cheek and kissed her ear and spoke softly into it. "I'm going to stay with you for a while."

  Anne felt a surge of happiness that took away her breath. She held Beth tightly and cried. It was too much happiness all at once. "I love you, Beth. I'll always love you!" she said.

  "No." Beth pulled her away gently and forced Anne to look at her face. "You won't always love me. I don't want you to love me." She smiled and held her and said again, "What am I going to do about you?"

  Anne wanted to hold Beth, tightly, and yet Beth herself was making her let go; she did not want her. Anne was imposing on Beth. Anne was being like Mark. She forced herself saying the words. "Please go now."

  "Please go, Beth," she pleaded. It did not sound like herself saying the words. "Please go now."

  Beth looked at her, surprised for a moment, and then she looked even reluctant. Her hands continued to hold Anne's firmly.

  Her hesitation gave Anne hope for a faint minute. Beth was deciding. Anne had not even hoped that it might come to a decision. She had thought Beth was sure of her feelings; there was hope. But only for a moment. Then Beth's brows curved seriously; she squeezed Anne's hands hard and then let go. Then, as quickly as she had come, she took her coat and left.

  The sound of Beth leaving seemed so final, so much like a nightmare. She would not see Beth again, she would not touch Beth again, or hear her voice ever again, not for many years. The reaction did not come as a shock; it crept up on her through the darkness of the room. And she found she could scarcely cry.

  * * *

  She awoke Sunday morning to the sound of a Bach chorale playing next door, and the sunlight through the blinds told her that it was a beautiful day. She forgot Beth for the moment as she awoke, thought of the smell of fresh coffee and her own radio which should be turned on. And then she remembered Carl and Esther and her appointment with them.

  It was better not to think of last night and put the problem of Beth away, far away. It helped to think of Esther; it eased the frightened feeling inside her stomach.

  She sat up and let the streaks of sun touch her legs. Her legs seemed pale and thin in the light. She was nude and she felt pale and thin in the cool fall on Sunday morning.

  But she felt somehow strong. Strength was in her chest and limbs. She rose and let all her body meet the sun.

  She did not put on her clothes and made breakfast, feeling herself a child of nature with the sunlight streaking not through Venetian blinds but through the branches of trees. I am too drawn within myself, she thought; I must feel free and naked and not care so terribly much about what happens to me.

  Again she thought of Esther, and then self-consciousness overtook her and she blushed. I wonder how Esther would react? Again the indecision. I mustn't care so terribly much about what happens.

  The clock now said one. There was hardly enough time to dress and get there. Anne gulped the remaining coffee, gobbled one piece of toast and hurried to the shower. She let the warm water wake her and then half-dried herself and splashed on cologne.

  There was no time to prepare properly for Esther, no time for exotic bubble baths, facials, manicures. Today she would be informal. Today she would tie her long hair in a pony tail and put on her Italian slacks. Tan shoes and a striped silk blouse finished the outfit. Anne paused to consider wearing lipstick and mascara and then decided not to. Esther would see her today as she had seen Anne that first evening at the Florentin.

  She stopped to feed and pet Portia and then rushed out and hailed a taxi.

  * * *

  Carl's house was the only house out of the sun. It stood dark and cold, with its ominous front door, and the hollow sound of the doorbell gave Anne a chill. She shuddered for a moment at this contrast but would not allow herself to be frightened. She was here to meet Esther.

  The small maid appeared, white in the dark of the hallway, bowing a welcome.

  Anne knew the way to the library and walked past the dark to the dull light of the doorway and stood just as Esther had stood yesterday evening. Carl was sitting in his chair, a breakfast tray on his lap.

  "Come in," he hailed, "and have some coffee, etcetera."

  "Thanks," Anne said, "just coffee."

  She waited at the door, hoping to see Esther.

  "She's in the garden," Carl said, reading her thoughts.

  Anne was embarrassed. Carl knew she distrusted him, knew she had not come to visit him. And then Esther entered.

  "Hello," Esther smiled. She was dressed almost like Anne, with a striped shirt and dark slacks, and she wore no makeup. She was thin and tall and beautiful.

  "Sit down and I'll get you coffee," she said.

  Anne went to the sofa and waited impatiently for her to return. She did not wish to speak to Carl. She sensed an air of hostility in him today, worse than the one of yesterday. But perhaps it was her own hostility. She couldn't be sure. They were certainly not going to be friends.

  "Relax," Carl said bluntly. "She likes you."

  He was being sarcastic and now Anne knew why he was behaving this way. They had discussed her before she came, and Carl had lost—at least for today. Anne felt in a way sorry. She did not want Esther to hurt him. She smiled and winked at Carl and it brought a smile back to his face.

  Now Esther returned wi
th two mugs and sat on the sofa beside Anne and handed her one mug. "Milk's over there," she motioned.

  Anne held her mug and looked at Esther. She was pale.

  "Nice to see you," Esther said.

  There was silence. Anne took a gulp of black coffee.

  "Would you like me to play a Bach chorale?" Carl interrupted.

  "Let's go to the park," Esther rose, not hearing him. Anne rose with her, imprisoned by her eyes, and then something made her remember her good manners and she broke away from their spell and turned to Carl.

  "Excuse me—what did you say?"

  Carl sighed. "Never mind, you can hear it after you come back."

  Esther had taken her hand and was pulling her toward the door. "Come on," she said.

  Anne allowed herself to be led and skipped quickly behind Esther to the sidewalk.

  It was only half a block to the park and an entrance to it was another block away. Esther was being young and carefree, but it was forced. Anne made herself not notice.

  They reached the path with new grass on either side and they ran further, letting themselves be hidden by the trees. Finally Anne stopped, pulling Esther's hand, and said "Wait."

  They were both without breath. Esther laughed and walked slowly beside her, still holding Anne's hand in a tight knot.

  Esther's whole body was tense. She was shivering, and the shivering was making her laugh.

  "Let's sit," Anne said.

  They found an unoccupied bench and sat, looking at the obelisk on the hill.

  "Why are you upset?" Anne asked.

  Esther was taken by surprise. "Is it that obvious?"

  Anne nodded, lightly squeezing her hand. "Is it because of me?"

  "In a way." Esther let go of her hand and hunched over the back of the bench, biting the knuckles of her own fist while thinking.

  Anne watched her quietly. Esther was experiencing a conflict over something, and Anne did not know what to do to help her.

  Finally Esther spoke. "Why are you here with me? I'm really an awful person."

  "I didn't know," Anne laughed. "Why?"