by John Lutz
“I guess. It wasn’t really much of an attempt. Not the sort of thing you go to the police about.”
“Oh, you should have reported him.”
Allie laughed. “Then half the girls at the prom should have signed complaints against their dates. I mean, there’s attempted rape and then there’s attempted rape.”
“I can’t see much difference.”
Allie took a bite of toast. Swallowed. Now who should lighten up? Next they’d be discussing the social ramifications of date rape. “Well, maybe you’re right, but it was the consequence of teenage hormones, and a long time ago.”
Hedra shot a frantic glance at the wall clock, as if suddenly remembering there was such a thing as measurable time. “Golly, almost eight-thirty. I am working today. Gonna be a receptionist for a while at a place over on Fifth Avenue. I better shower and dress.” She stood up and placed her dishes in the sink, carefully not clinking them too hard against the porcelain. “You are done with the bathroom, aren’t you?”
“Sure. All yours.”
“I’ll do my dishes when I get home,” Hedra said. “Yours, too, if you want.”
“I’ll take care of them this time,” Allie said. “I’m coming home around noon to do some computer work.”
“I won’t be here . . . home till this evening.” Hedra yanked the sash of her robe tight around her thin waist and carefully tied it in a bow, though she was on her way to the shower.
She paused in the kitchen doorway and turned to look at Allie. “I think this is gonna work out just great, you and me. No, I don’t just think it, I’m positive of it!” She was like an enthused ingenue in a movie.
Allie put down her half-eaten crescent of toast and started to agree, but Hedra was already gone. Deferential ghost of a girl, wanting to be somewhere else.
She has a real problem with her shyness, Allie thought. A shame, because she wouldn’t be nearly as unattractive as she seemed to believe, if she’d learn to dress effectively and use makeup to advantage.
But maybe she fancied herself the intellectual type. Those boxes she’d had brought in might have been stuffed with books. Or maybe, looking and acting as she did, she attracted the sort of men she liked. Who knew about men? Joan Collins? Madonna?
Not Allie.
Goddamn you, Sam!
Hedra was humming what sounded like a hymn in the shower when Allie left to meet Mayfair.
9
Hedra said, “I envy you, Allie. I mean, your looks, your clothes, guys always calling and leaving messages on your answering machine.”
“My answering machine?”
Hedra looked away from Allie’s gaze. “I can’t help hearing you check for messages now and then. I’m sorry, Allie, I don’t mean to be nosy.”
In the two weeks since Hedra had moved in, this was one of the few evenings they were spending together in the apartment. It was storming outside, and the wind was slamming sheets of rain against the window, rattling the panes. Hedra was sitting in the small wing chair next to a lamp. She’d been reading a mystery novel, something with “death” in the title, while Allie was slumped on the sofa, idly watching the MacNeil/Lehrer News Hour. Hedra traded paperbacks at a secondhand bookshop, she said. She had a small and ever-changing collection of dog-eared mysteries lined up on her bedroom windowsill. The fear on her pale young face prompted a pang of pity in Allie.
“Listen, I know you’re not nosy,” Allie said. “Two people in the same apartment, we’re gonna know something about each other’s lives. No way around it. I suppose we’ll have to trust one another. And what’s this about my social life? You’ve been out with someone at least five times in the past two weeks.” Which was not only true but a conservative estimate. Each time, Hedra had gotten dressed up, even combed her mousy brown hair to fall below her shoulders, and left to meet her date before dinner. She’d explained to Allie that this way he wouldn’t attract the neighbors’ suspicions by picking her up at the apartment. Allie appreciated her discretion, though she didn’t think it necessary to carry it to that extreme. What was this guy going to do, hop out of a limo with a bouquet of roses in each hand?
Wind and rain crashed at the window, as if determined to get inside. Gentle Jim Lehrer was lobbing kindly, probing questions at an Alabama prosecuting attorney who thought an island penal colony should be established off the U.S coast to incarcerate hardcore criminals. Lehrer was making comparisons to Devil’s Island while the prosecuting attorney was talking about a land east of Eden.
Hedra settled back in her chair and closed the novel. She fidgeted with it so violently Allie thought the lurid cover might tear. “Truth is, Allie, I haven’t really been going out on dates. I got a job working nights, typing reports at a company over near Lincoln Center.”
Huh? The girl could surprise. “Then how come you lied to me?”
Hedra dropped the novel; she jerked when it thumped on the floor, but she didn’t bother to pick it up. “I was jealous of you, I guess. The way you’re so assertive and active and all. I didn’t want you to think I was some wallflower wimp, so when I took the temporary night job, I decided to tell you I was going out to meet a man instead of a typewriter.”
“There was no reason to lie,” Allie assured her. “I don’t consider you any kind of wimp, Hedra. And your private life’s none of my business.”
Hedra blushed; it was obvious even in the yellow lamplight. The wind drummed rain against the window. Sounded as if the storm had claws and was clambering to get in. “There’s another reason I said I was meeting a man. I didn’t want you to think . . . you know.”
Allie didn’t know. Not at first. Then she laughed. “I never doubted your sexual preference, Hedra, or I wouldn’t have chosen you for a roommate.”
Squirming in her chair, Hedra said, “It’s just that I have trouble meeting men, while you seem to have trouble holding them off. Oh, I mean, I can see why. You have such confidence and style and all.”
Allie was getting tired of Hedra’s unabashed admiration that bordered on idolatry. It was the one thing in their otherwise smooth relationship that bothered her. “Hell, I’m no beauty contest winner, Hedra. Not even a runner-up.”
“Beauty comes from inside,” Hedra said solemnly.
What could Allie say to that? So does a fart? From the corner of her eye she saw that Lehrer was talking with the U.S. Attorney General now. What would the Administration think about resurrecting Devil’s Island American style? Well, it was a possibility. She stood up from the sofa. “It’s a crummy night outside. I’m gonna make a cup of tea. You want one?”
“Yes, please. No—wait, I’ll help you.”
“No, you won’t. Stay put.”
The command had come out sharper than Allie intended. The subdued roommate sank back into her chair and seemed prepared to stay in that position for days.
In the kitchen, Allie filled two cups with water, placed them in the microwave, and set the timer for three minutes.
While she was waiting for the water to boil, she wished again that Hedra would stop idolizing her for what she no doubt considered an outgoing if not downright hedonistic lifestyle. Not that Allie wasn’t somewhat complimented by Hedra’s open admiration. Who wouldn’t be? But at the same time it made her uncomfortable. This wasn’t part of the deal. She didn’t want to be anyone’s big sister.
It was true that word of her and Sam’s breakup had gotten around, and unctuous, curly-haired Billy Stothers from Sam’s office had phoned her several times for a date. Allie had gone out with him once, to a boring off-Broadway play and then a late dinner and dancing.
Stothers hadn’t tried to bed her that night; he was the patient sort. But he bored the hell out of her with his stock, predictable lies, and she was trying to dissuade him, but nicely. Which prompted the spate of messages on her machine. Actually Stothers and Mayfair had been the only men who’d phoned during the past two weeks.
Sam was lurking like a persistent interloper in the far reaches of her mind, alw
ays with her. How long would that last?
The microwave timer chirped, and Allie removed the cups and dropped tea bags into them. Waited. Removed the soggy bags and added cream. She carried the two steaming cups into the living room.
MacNeil/Lehrer’s all-purpose theme music was on; the program was over. The air in the apartment was warm and sticky, but the storm made tea seem appropriate. A cozy and proper beverage, tea. Veddy, veddy English.
“You didn’t have to do this for me,” Hedra said, accepting her cup.
“I know,” Allie said, irritated by all this subservience. She’d just heated some water and dropped in a bag; she hadn’t donated a kidney. “So maybe next time you make the tea.”
Hedra smiled. “I’d like that. Sort of earn my keep.”
Hedra, Hedra, Hedra . . . Allie switched off the TV and settled back down on the sofa. “You’re paying half the rent and utilities, remember?”
“Oh, sure. But I can’t forget this was your place to begin with. I mean, I know how hard it is to get any apartment in this part of town. I appreciate your taking me on as a roommate.”
“So you’ve told me.”
“Yeah, I guess you get tired of me telling you.”
God, she was even apologizing for that. “It’s okay, Hedra. But be assured I believe you.”
Hedra sipped her tea and said, “Just right.” She set the cup on the upholstered arm of the chair, balancing it there with a light touch of her right hand. Allie felt guilty about losing her patience. Hedra was, in many ways, a more agreeable roommate than most. She was certainly preferable to a loudmouthed egotist who’d try to take over and run things. Or a lover who’d throw away your heart like a used Kleenex.
Allie said, “It’s nice having you around, Hedra. I mean that.”
“I . . . well, thanks, Allie.” She was actually pretty when she smiled, a kind of animated Mona Lisa. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, a guy was by here looking for you yesterday morning after you left. Said his name was Sam.”
Allie almost spilled her tea, which was too close to the rim. She hadn’t drunk any, waiting for it to cool. “Sam, you said?”
“Right. Something wrong?”
“Sam’s the man I was living with here. Before we decided to part. I decided, actually.”
“Oh. You were . . . ?”
“We were lovers.”
“I’m sorry about the breakup, Allie. Those kinda things happen.”
“All the time,” Allie agreed. But not to me. Not so suddenly. With a phone call in the night that knocked the entire world out of kilter. Damn it, she was straightening that world and Sam had no right coming around and trying to complicate things. He’d sent Billy Stothers to collect the rest of his belongings before Hedra had moved in; there was nothing of him left in the apartment, and Allie wanted nothing left of him in her life. That was the only way to stay off the roller coaster. He’d deceived her once and he would again, if she weakened and gave him the chance. He was booze and she was an alcoholic—one drink and she was lost.
“Did you tell him you lived here?” Allie asked.
“No. He didn’t ask, so I didn’t have to lie. And he didn’t seem to suspect. Probably figured I was just a friend waiting for you to get home.”
“I doubt it,” Allie said. “He knows me and my finances.”
The wind and rain took another whack at the window, rattling the glass, almost breaking through. Or maybe the noise seemed louder because the TV was turned off. Who the hell needed Wall Street Week? “Sam seems nice,” Hedra said.
“Seems.” Allie sipped at her tea. It was almost cool enough to drink without burning her tongue.
Hedra said, “He left a message. Told me to tell you he was sorry he missed you and he’d be back.”
Allie said, “I was afraid of that.”
10
As soon as she swung the door open, Allie was sure someone was in the apartment. The air hadn’t the usual stale stillness of a room unoccupied since morning. Something had stirred it not long ago. There was no discernible sound, yet the silence wasn’t complete.
She stood paralyzed on the threshold. Hedra was working all day at her temporary receptionist job. Sam. Maybe Sam had forced his way in. Her glance darted to the locks on the door. She found them intact and without scratches on the surrounding wood. But it was possible Sam had an extra key made before returning his. He’d deceived her in other ways, why not that?
Damn him! Damn him!
She took a stiff step inside and glanced around the living room. Everything was normal, the television and stereo—candy for burglars—were still in place.
Sam.
Had to be Sam.
Anger rose in her and supplanted fear. She moved farther into the apartment and quietly shut the door.
She slipped off her high heels and laid them gently aside, then padded in her nyloned feet across the floor toward the short hall to the bedrooms. She peered into Hedra’s room and found it unoccupied, the bed, unlike Allie’s, neatly made in almost military fashion. It was possible to bounce a quarter off the spread and watch it glance off the ceiling, Allie thought. Hedra the good soldier. She’d delight the most demanding drill instructor.
The faintest of sounds was emanating from Allie’s bedroom. Someone moving around, the soles of their shoes lightly scraping the floor. Odd. Almost as if they were dancing.
Allie edged forward, her heartbeat quickening. She reached out her right hand and touched the wall as if for balance. Should she be in here? she wondered. Should she be doing this? Of course, damn it! This was her apartment. She lived here, not Sam.
At the door she paused and drew a deep breath. Then she stepped boldly into the room. “Sam—”
Not Sam.
Hedra.
She was standing very erect in the middle of the room. Before the full-length mirror mounted on the closet door.
Hedra’s body twitched and her head snapped around. Her eyes and mouth grew round as she saw Allie. She said something like “Whaa—” More a rush of breath than an exclamation.
She was wearing Allie’s expensive blue dress from Altman’s, with the silver belt, silver shoes, and even Allie’s dangling silver earrings with the cubic zirconia stones. Transformation. Night-on-the-town time.
Allie stood rooted in surprise, not knowing what to say, and wondering what was happening. Hedra’s slim body hunched over violently, as if she’d been punched in the stomach. She wobbled back a few steps in Allie’s high heels, like a little girl playing dress-up, and groaned, “I thought you were going to lunch . . .” As if Allie had cheated by returning home.
Allie said, “The lunch was canceled. I thought you were working today.”
“Didn’t need me today.” Hedra’s lower lip quivered. Her face was flushed with embarrassment. If Allie handed her a shovel, she’d try to dig a hole in the floor so she could climb in and hide. “I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry about this . . .”
A hot rush of anger welled strong in Allie. Then it quickly waned. She’s about to cry, she thought, staring at Hedra. Oh, no! I don’t want to fucking see that! Or hear it! She’s about to collapse into a sobbing jag that might last for an hour.
Then pity forced aside the anger, and she crossed the room and placed her hand on Hedra’s quaking shoulder, on the smooth material of her own dress. She thought selfishly for a moment that she didn’t want tearstains on it. Hedra shrank away as if Allie were preparing to strike her.
Allie managed a cardboard smile. “S’okay, Hedra. Okay. We’re only talking about a dress here, not international espionage. No harm done.”
“My God, I mean, I was trying on your clothes. I don’t know why I did it, what possessed me. Honest.”
“I believe you.” She patted the shoulder, still vibrating beneath her touch. “Now you believe me. It’s all right; it really is.”
The flesh at the corners of Hedra’s lips arced down and danced; tears still glistened and threatened in her injured-animal eyes. “It’s just
that I envy you so. I mean, how you seem to make your own way so confident and all. You’re always sure of yourself and I’m always in doubt. It sounds crazy, but I thought, well, maybe if I put on the dress you look so great in . . .”
“That some of it would rub off?” Allie finished for her. “A kind of personality transfer?”
Even in her humiliation Hedra had to smile. “No, not exactly. But I guess, well, yeah, maybe something like that. I just wanted to try on the dress and see how I’d look, is all.”
“Then it’s simple as that,” Allie said. “No point getting uptight and Freudian about it.”
“I guess not,” Hedra agreed, after seeming to consider for a moment whether to let Freud in on this.
Allie moved away from her and sat down on the edge of the mattress. The bedsprings sang. Sam. “Don’t envy me, Hedra. My life’s not as good as it seems from the outside. I have doubts, problems. Just like you do. Big problems sometimes.”
“Only sometimes, though. And you solve them.”
“Not always.”
Hedra frowned, puzzled. “You mean Sam?”
“Yeah, him.”
“That’ll work out eventually.”
“I don’t want it to work out.”
“You want it to be over? Permanently?”
“It is over. And as permanently as I can make it.”
“You’re really sure?”
“Most of the time.”
“Well, the way you look, Allie, men’ll never cause you to suffer forever. I seem to have big problems all the time. And it shows and just makes things worse for me.”
“It doesn’t show as much as you think. You’re attractive and smart, Hedra; you need to believe in yourself more.” Christ, I sound like Dear Abby, she thought.
Hedra ran a hand over the silky front of the dress. “That’s easy enough to say.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. But you’re a kind of Pygmalion determined to make yourself over, and that’s all right. Shows there’s lots of hope and plenty to work with. You’ll be okay, Hedra, I can sense it.”