by Ann Bannon
Lili stopped talking, and Laura realized dimly that there had been no cutting edge in her voice for the past few minutes.
After a little while of silence Laura got up dizzily from the floor and dried her eyes. Her face had gone very white and she sat down for a minute in a chair.
"Did you ever love her?” Lili asked. “Really?"
Laura turned to look at her, and her eyes seemed remark” ably deep and different, as if she had seen something for the first time. She didn't seem to have heard Lili.
"Did you ever love her, Laura?” Lili asked again.
"Not until now,” Laura said, and Lili stared at her.
* * * *
When Laura got home, all she wanted was to go in the bedroom, turn out all the lights, and crawl half dressed into her bed. And try to make sense of her awful knowledge, try to live with it. She couldn't think of Beebo without pain.
Jack followed her into the bedroom where she sprawled on the bed sobbing. He went to her and said worriedly, “Jesus, honey. Tell me about it.” He sat down beside her, his hands on her shoulders trying to ease her. “Did the stock market crash?"
She wept on as if he weren't there.
"You got a bad pickle in your hamburger?"
No response.
"Your girdle split?"
She rolled over and looked at him with mournful eyes. “Jack, this is no time to be stupid."
"I can't say anything very bright till you tell me what's the matter,” he said.
Laura blew her nose hard. He made her feel ludicrous and she resented it. “Beebo,” she said finally. “Beebo. Oh, Jack.” She looked at him with red eyes. “She must have killed your little dog. The one you gave her after Nix died."
"Must have?"
"She killed Nix. Nobody beat her up. She did it to herself."
They stared at each other, Jack beginning to share her feelings.
He heaped his scorn on Beebo. “Damn!” he said. “Damn silly hysterical female. I thought Beebo had more sense than most women."
"Just because she's not like most women?” Laura cried. “Jack, you make me furious! The more mannish a woman is, the more sense you think she's got! God! Beebo's sick! She's sick or she wouldn't have done it. When I think what she must have gone through, I—oh...” And she wept again, silently and hard. “She's no damn silly female. You damn silly man!"
"What is she, then?” he asked, smiling a little.
Laura turned back to the bed and muttered, “I don't know. She's mixed up and unhappy and maybe she's still in love with me. She's miserable because of me, anyway. I know that much."
"Isn't that touching,” Jack commented acidly. “You have a desirable woman walloping herself and bisecting daschunds out of love for you. It must do wonders for your ego."
Laura didn't even answer. She just flew at him, nails first, and took a wild swipe at his face. She missed; Jack was fast, and prepared. But she struggled desperately with him with her knees, her elbows, teeth and nails, until she was exhausted. She didn't last long. Lili had taken the fight out of her.
He laid her back down on the bed when she was gulping for air and went to get her some coffee.
"Now, tell me where you learned about Beebo,” he said when he returned.
After a long, reluctant pause she answered him. Her basic trust in him persuaded her, but she promised herself that if he got sarcastic again she would stop speaking to him. Permanently.
"I saw Lili this afternoon,” she whispered.
He gave a snort. “For old times’ sake?” he asked.
"To ask about Beebo,” she said haughtily.
"And she told you that romantic little tale? About carving up Nix?"
"Yes."
"And you believed her?"
"Yes. She wasn't kidding."
"Oh, she never does,” he said with false agreement.
Laura flipped over to face him, her face red, but he interrupted her before she could get a word out. “Okay, she told the truth, we'll say.” He moved her coffee gently toward her as he spoke. “And if she did it's pretty awful and it's pretty sad. And I wish like hell that it hadn't happened to Beebo, because she's a damn nice kid and I always liked her. I'm sorry about it, Laura—"
"Sorry!” she exploded. “What a stinking little word that is for what she must have gone through!"
"What's in a word, honey?” Jack shrugged, frowning. “You want a eulogy? I'm sorry, if Beebo really did it. That's not fancy but it's true. I can't put Nix back together. I can't order you to love Beebo the way she loves you."
There was a long silence then while Laura considered what he said. Her feelings for Beebo seemed to have undergone a transformation that afternoon. It was as if she saw clearly, and for the first time, into Beebo's secret heart, into her pain and frustration and passion. And Laura's own heart melted, touched, awed, a little exalted even to think that she could have inspired such a wonderful, terrible, mad, singleminded love in anybody. All of a sudden it seemed very valuable to her. She wanted it back, just the way it had been. She would know how to respect it now.
She lay there looking at Jack and felt a small fear licking at her heart like a flame. What if her love for Beebo became more precious to her than her love for Jack?
She said pensively, “I felt so bad about everything. I've been so selfish."
"Not with me, honey."
There was a long pause. At last she said, “You mean—going to the doctor, and everything?"
"That's only part of it.” He got up and went to her.
Laura was standing in her bare feet, leaning against a wall and looking out at the East River. Her eyes were fastened on the night lights of the city. Jack touched her shoulder.
"Laura, darling, I've loved you for a long time ... ever since we met, I think. I've never loved you less than I did at the start. And now I love you much much more. Just the fact that you were willing to try for a child means the whole world to me. Even if it never works out. I can't love you with my body. You wouldn't want it even if I could. But I don't think I've ever loved anyone as much as you, honey. Not even the lovely boys I could never resist. Not even Terry, and there never was a lovelier one. When all the sweat and passion are over with there's nothing but ashes and melancholy. Nothing's deader than a gay love that's burned out. But with you ... I don't know, it just goes on and on. It's steady and comforting. It won't fail me, no matter what. It gives me a little faith—not much, but a little—in myself. In people. In you."
Laura turned her head away so he wouldn't see the tears.
"Laura, you can say what you please but you'll never convince me that I did a cowardly thing marrying you. A selfish thing, yes. A hell of a selfish thing. I think I would have gone to pieces without you. But I wasn't running away from my old life as much as I was running to a new one."
Suddenly Laura felt a big ugly need to fight. Maybe it was just to let off steam after a nerve-wracking afternoon. Maybe it was to make her forget how guilty she felt about Beebo. Probably it was both.
Laura turned and walked away from him, feeling his hand slip from her shoulder, unwanted and unsure. “Well, I don't know why you left the Village but I think I know why I did. Finally,” she said. Her voice was hard and she knew she was going to hurt him and she cringed from it almost as much as he did. And still she spoke, compulsively. “I left because it was the only way I could see out of my problems. You were my escape hatch, Jack. You were just too damn convenient."
"That's my charm,” he said harshly. “Ask Terry."
"It isn't the first time I've run away from my problems. I ran away from Beth in college. I ran away from my father. From Marcie—remember her? She was straight. I didn't find out till I tried to make love to her."
"I remember. You ran straight to me. And if you hadn't you'd be enjoying a protracted vacation in a mental institution at this moment."
"You helped, I admit it I don't know what I would have done. But mat's not the point. The point is, that here I am doing it
again. Running away. Not to you this time, but with you."
"So?” he said. “So we run away. So what the hell? Let's run. Who gives a damn? What's eating you, Laura?"
"It's wrong, that's what! You told me when we left the Village I'd get over it and Beebo didn't matter ... she'd survive. And I believed you. Until today."
"And now you think she won't survive?” he asked bitingly. “Because of something she did ten months ago while you were still living with her?"
Laura was swallowed up for a moment in a sob. “I want her!” she gasped finally. “Oh, God and Heaven, I want her!” And she stamped her foot like a furious child.
When she was quiet enough so he could talk without shouting, Jack said, “Sure. I want Terry. But we're poison together. So are you and Beebo. If you go to her you'll come running back to Uncle Jack before the month is out. Fed up all over again. Only this time there'll be a difference. This time Beebo really will commit mayhem. Or murder. Or both. And if you don't run fast enough, Mother, it may be you she murders. I wouldn't put it past her."
"I want her back!” Laura amazed herself with her own words, words she never meant to say. Jack stared at her, his face pale and determined.
"You can't have her."
"Jack,” she said, suddenly pleading, “let me go to her. Just for a week or two. Please. Please let me.” She walked toward him as she spoke, her arms extended.
"No,” he said flatly. ‘Two weeks, hell” He was afraid she wouldn't ever come back.
"Jack, I wouldn't stay. I'd come back to you."
"No!” It was absolute. He couldn't take the chance. “We've had all this out. We agreed to it before we got married."
"Jack, darling—"
"I won't talk about it, Laura. You can't go back to her and that's final"
"But only for a week or two, just a few days..."
"You're my wife,” he blazed so fiercely that she stopped in her tracks, startled. “You're my wife and you're not going to live with any Lesbian in any Village! Not while I live!"
She tried once more. “Jack, don't you understand? For the first time I'm beginning to realize how I feel about her, how I always felt. Tris made me realize it a little. And now Lili. And even living with you—"
"Living with me has made you lonesome for women, that's all. And Beebo's a handy woman. Goddam it, Laura, I never denied you women. I've encouraged you. Admit it, go on! I've asked you to chase a few broads. It's not my fault if you've developed an itch. Go out and have yourself a fling; you should have done it long ago. I don't give a damn, only don't go to Beebo. And come back. Come back here, you understand? If you don't I'll come after you! And I'm capable of mayhem myself!"
She looked at his big burning eyes and trembled. “I just want to see her,” she whispered.
"What makes you think she wants to see you?” he demanded. “What makes you think she won't greet you at the door with the same knife she used on Nix?"
"That's what Lili said."
"Well, for once Lili is right. I know Beebo; she's crazy. You catch her on a wrong day in a wrong mood and she won't even think about it. She'll just operate on you as she did on the dogs.” He gazed unblinking at her. “That would kill me, Laura, as sure as it would you. Besides, I can't take any chances. You might be carrying my child."
This struck fury into Laura. She had nearly managed to forget the child, in the press of other things, but no longer. She picked up a pair of his shoes, sprawled near the closet, and flung them at him, one after the other. One flew through the window, splattering glass in its wake, and the other struck his arm.
"Why do you torment me?” she shouted. “Why do you talk about nothing but baby, baby, baby? I never wanted the damn thing! I hope I never have a baby! I hope I never have your baby! I hope it's born a boy! I hope it's born blind! I hope it's never born at all!” She was screaming at him, and he came to her carefully, coaxing her.
"You're all wrought up, Mother,” he said He could see that she was hysterical.
"Don't call me Mother!” she shrieked, her voice strained so that she could hardly articulate.
"Laura, for God's sake,” he said, trying to brush it off, trying to keep calm, help her. “I call you ‘Mother’ in honor of my Oedipus complex. Purely a formality. It has nothing to do with babies. Come lie down, honey. Come on. I'll get you something to quiet you down. Come on,” he wheedled gently, but she looked at him like he meant to murder her then and there, backing away from him. When he made a quick move to grab her, she sprang away, picking up the stool to her dressing table. She threw it at him with all her strength. While he dodged she grabbed her shoes and coat and ran from the room.
At the front door she paused briefly to stare at him with desperate eyes and then she heaved an ashtray at him and fled. It cut his hand, which he threw up to protect his face.
Laura ran down the stairs. There was no time to wait for the elevator. She could hear Jack behind her, running and calling her name. At the front door she turned swiftly toward the river and climbed a chain link fence, ripping the flesh here and there along her limbs and tearing her blouse. She dropped, torn and gasping, to the other side just as Jack burst from the door and looked wildly in all directions for her. She rolled soundlessly some feet down the long slope that ended in chill black water.
There she waited, sobbing quietly, clinging to handfuls of greasy mud and roots and embedded rocks. She heard his footsteps going toward First Avenue. He thought she would run for a taxi or hide in a doorway. Laura scrambled and stumbled south along the embankment, not waiting for him to come back looking for her. There was a suffocating panic in her. She didn't question it or wonder where it came from. She just did as it bid her, struggling through the dirt on the incline.
There was no looking back, no stopping for rest. She moved forward doggedly, tripping and sinking to her knees and clambering up again and going on, trying to stay near the fence in case she lost her footing. The going was slippery and rough and her breath rasped in and out with a fast whining sound. She had gone nearly three blocks when a jutting stone, invisible in the semidark, threw her, and she felt herself begin to skid and roll. She made a wild grab for the fence but it was already fifteen feet above her and receding fast. The wind was bumped out of her and she could not even scream. She had no idea how far she had fallen before she stopped.
Laura lay gasping and moaning for a few minutes, trying to get her breath back. She knew she was crying but she made no effort to stop. She moved herself gently to see if anything was broken, but the ground was not hard and she had missed the bad stones. She had no idea how long she had been there. It might have been minutes, it might have been hours. She thought vaguely it must have been hours when she finally stirred, chilled through, and opened her eyes. Beside her, on the ground, sat a man.
Laura screamed, a weak shuddering noise, and fell back, covering her face with her hands.
"Don't mind me,” he said. “I won't hurt you."
Laura felt herself trembling with fear. She tried to pull her torn clothes straight, but it was so dark she could hardly see what she was doing. When he turned his face toward her she could see a little of it. It was very indeterminate; there was no way to guess his age or anything about him.
She stood up quickly and started to scramble up the hill, but he said, “There's an easier way."
She gave him one quick scared glance and then went on, but he stood up and said, “There's steps about a half block on."
Again she turned, very wary but willing to listen now. It looked a million miles to the top.
"I'll show you,” he offered. His voice was not menacing and he stood facing her with his hands in his back pockets, a black statue with silver edges. “Come on, I'll walk ahead."
He turned then and went southward, agile and sure. After a moment Laura began to follow him, moving clumsily and with great effort, trying to copy his movements and praying that he wouldn't suddenly attack her. She stooped and grabbed a sharp stone glinting at
her feet and held it tight in a sweating hand, just in case.
He heard her panting behind him and stopped, bringing Laura up sharp with a gasp. “You're tired,” he said. “Want to sit down a minute?"
She shook her head at him.
"You can talk to me, I'm no devil,” he said. And she had the idea he was grinning at her. But when she maintained her tense silence he shrugged and turned back. Now and then he glanced at her to see how she was doing. “Want some help?” he asked when she stumbled once, leaning toward her, but she drew back fast and he said, “Okay. Just trying to help."
They walked for a few moments and Laura was almost ready to bolt from him when she realized that the lights ahead she had taken for far distant were in reality small bulbs strung up to illuminate a row of steps.
"Maybe you're wondering who I am,” he said almost hopefully as they neared the steps, as if he had a story to tell and was looking for a listener.
He turned, one hand on the iron rail that ran alongside the steps, and held out a hand to her. “Here y'are. Help you?"
She ignored him, turning her back to him to swing a leg over the low railing.
"Don't you wonder who I am?” he said. “I don't help just anybody, little girl.” He spoke sharply. “Don't you want to know my name?"
"No!” she cried suddenly, angrily, startling herself. “You're just a man and all men are alike. No matter what their names are!” He gaped at her, astonished. “You don't really care about me, only about yourself. You don't want to know my name, you only want me to know yours.” She spoke breathlessly at breakneck speed. “You can't suffer like a woman can. You aren't made to take it, you men. You're just made big enough and brute enough to hurt us. But we can't hurt you. We can't hurt you, do you hear?” And she stopped abruptly, putting her hand over her mouth in a storm of self-pity and shame and revulsion. It was Jack she was screaming at, not this stranger. She couldn't believe she had hurt Jack as she had hurt Beebo or it would destroy her. She screamed to make herself believe she couldn't really hurt him, no matter what she did.