Beebo Brinker Chronicles 1 - Odd Girl Out

by Ann Bannon

"All right,” she whispered unhappily. She couldn't resist him when she was with him, just as she couldn't hurt Laura when they were together. “All right, Charlie."

  "Tomorrow?"

  "I don't know."

  "Look, Beth,” he said, suddenly getting disciplinary with her. “I know you've got trouble, honey, I know you re up against something. I m not trying to force you or push you around or frighten you. Maybe you've got obligations somewhere else, maybe you can't help what you re doing. Okay. But damn it, Beth, you've got obligations to me, too, whether you want ‘em or not. You can't play with people, honey. You can't do—” He groped a little. “You can't behave the way you did with me—say the things you did—and suddenly drop me like a hot potato. Nobody can take that, Beth. Not me, not anybody."

  "I wasn't playing, Charlie. I was serious. Only—please, please, don't ask me what the trouble is. I can work it out. Just give me time.” She raised her eyes again, imploring him.

  He sighed and said a little crisply, “All right. I'll give you time, Beth, if that's what you want. But I won't sit around making phone calls that don't get answered and playing tricks on you just so I can see you. I'm going to see you. And you re going to make a date right here and now and stick to it. Do you hear me?"

  She nodded.

  "Do you have an exam tomorrow?"

  "No."

  "Okay, I'm out at four. I'll pick you up at five. Well go out, have dinner, see a show or something.” He paused. “Okay, love?"

  She nodded.

  He looked at the wall clock and said, “Okay, let's go. Almost closing hours."

  Beth got up with a start. Laura would be home already. Her final couldn't have lasted longer than ten o'clock. It was ten-twenty.

  At the house, Charlie stopped the car and turned to gaze at her for a minute, and then he got out without kissing her. Beth was chagrined, almost angry. He opened her door and let her out.

  "Come on, honey,” he said in a businesslike voice. “It's cold."

  She got out, watching him hopefully. He took her arm, slammed the door, and started for the house.

  "Charlie!” she said, pulling back, and the tone of her voice reproved him.

  He stopped and looked at her, and she threw her arms around him and kissed him until he held her and answered her.

  "Charlie darling,” she said. It was as grateful as it was inadequate. At the door she clung to him, almost afraid to let him go, afraid to face Laura. But the housemother shooed him out with the others, and she had to watch him leave.

  She went slowly up to her room and pushed the door open with a sort of dread, and walked in. Emily looked up from the desk.

  "Oh, Beth!” she said. “How was it? Was it all right?"

  Beth nodded. “Yes, Em. Thanks. Where's Laura?"

  "In bed."

  "In bed?” Beth could hardly believe it.

  "Yes. She got home from the final and—” She shrugged. “She said she was tired."

  "Didn't she ask where I was?"

  "Well, she asked if you'd gone out and I said yes. She knew right away with who. I just told her you went out for a beer with him. I mean—I had to tell her. She would have found out anyway."

  Beth turned and took her coat off. Emily watched her with a host of questions on her tongue.

  "How's Charlie?” she said.

  "Fine. We sort of—made it up. I'm going to see him tomorrow."

  "Will you tell Laur?"

  "Yes, I'll tell her.” She shuddered at the thought.

  "Will she understand?” Emmy was half expecting an admission—of what, she didn't know.

  "Yes, she'll understand.” The hell she will, she thought.

  "Beth?” said Emmy, hesitating.

  "Hmm?"

  "You aren't mad at me for calling him, are you?"

  "No, Em, I'm not mad."

  "You're acting sort of funny."

  "I'm tired, Emmy."

  Emmy went over to her. “Beth, are you in love? Really?"

  "I don't know."

  "Yes you do. Are you?"

  Beth sighed and her strength seemed to leave her with her breath. “Yes,” she said, and suddenly it felt good. “Yes, yes, Emmy..."

  Emily hugged her. “Oh, Beth, I'm so glad!"

  "Emmy, you make me feel—” She tumbled her hair with nervous fingers. “Everything's such a mess right now."

  "But it'll all turn out, Beth. Things are never as bad as they seem. Most of the things you worry about never happen, you know ... Have you told him?"

  "No. I—I'm a little afraid to, I guess."

  "Oh, well, you'll get over that. Beth, I'm so happy for you!"

  Beth had to answer her smile and fight it at the same time. Emily's warmth brought the truth to the surface in her; she wanted awfully to confess. But the thought of Laura, so alone, so lovingly given, so badly used, stopped her again.

  "Guess what,” said Emmy with her eyes bright and her yellow hair alive in the lamplight.

  "What?"

  "Oh, you won't even think it's the truth,” she said, looking at her bare toes in the pile of the rag rug.

  Beth smiled indulgently at her. It was a brief hiatus of relief from her own troubles. “Yes I will, Emmy. If you say so. What?"

  "It's Bud. I really love him. I'd do anything for him."

  Beth couldn't help laughing a little. You've been in love with him all year, Em."

  "Not like this. This is it, Beth.” She gripped Beth's arms in dead earnest.

  Mary Lou's request floated hazily back to Beth. She had completely forgotten to talk to Emmy in the press of her own difficulties.

  "Emmy, you haven't done anything—"

  "Oh, no, Beth!"

  If it were real, as Emmy said, then it was wrong. Bud was too undependable, too uninhibited. “Emmy—don't get carried away. Use your head. Oh, Em—"

  Emmy hung her head as if she might begin to cry. “Beth, you don't believe me,” she whispered.

  "Yes, I do, I do, Emmy. Only, be sensible, honey. I mean in public and everything. I mean—"

  "Do you really?” She brightened. “Because I do love him."

  "Yes, Emmy. I know.” She was too tired to argue.

  "And he loves me. He told me so."

  "Oh, Emmy, I'm so glad.” What else could she say? She fell into bed later too tired to think.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THE NEXT DAY, Beth and Laura hedged with each other for a while before either of them would say anything. Finally Laura said in a tight voice, “You saw him last night, Beth. Why won't you just tell me? Why do I have to tell you?"

  "Well—because I'm a little ashamed, I guess. Because I'm sorry, Laur. I didn't want to hurt you.

  "You didn't have to. Why didn't you just tell me you were going to see him again?” She couldn't keep the bite out of her words.

  "Because I didn't know it myself, honey."

  "You didn't?” Laura gazed past her coolly and out the window.

  "Oh, Laur, honey—” Beth tried to think of something better to say, but there was nothing. “No, I didn't."

  "Beth, I didn't ask you not to see him again. You said you wouldn't see him again. You said it, not me. It was your idea. If I had asked you not to and you'd agreed—that would be different. But I didn't ask for anything. You went back on your word, Beth, after you gave it voluntarily.” She was shaking with the force of her feeling, and she worked to keep her voice steady.

  "Laura, honey, I—He called. He got my number. I didn't know. And when I talked to him, it—I owed him an explanation, Laur. I couldn't just drop him. Everyone thinks I dropped him because you still have a crush on him, don't you see? But he knows you don't, Laur."

  "He knows?” Of course he knew. He took her out as a favor to her father. But did Beth know about her family, then? Had he told her of the divorce.

  "Yes. He said your fathers were friends. He said you didn't have a crush on him at all. I had to see him—explain it—say something. I had to, don't you see?"
<
br />   "I see,” she said. “How did he figure all this out? If he knew I didn't have a crush on him, why did he think you wouldn't see him for my sake?"

  "Well, I don't know. I—"

  "Why didn't he figure out that there might have been another boy in your life? Or family troubles? Or something he did wrong? Why didn't he figure out any of those things, Beth? How come the first thing he thought of was me?

  "Laura, I—he didn't, exactly."

  "Well, exactly what did happen, Beth?” She felt furious tears start up.

  "He talked to Emmy, Laur. Emmy thought I wouldn't see him because of you. It was her idea."

  "What right does Emmy have to go blabbing to him? What right does Emmy have to think anything about us?” She caught her breath, looking for words to cut with. “Why can't Emmy mind her own business and leave us alone?"

  "Laur, please don't get excited, honey."

  "Answer my question!"

  Beth sighed and looked at her hands. “Emmy wanted to help. She knew I was unhappy. She knows me pretty well."

  "Well, I guess I don't want to help and I don't know you at all and I made you unhappy. Is that it?"

  "Laura—"

  "Well, is it, Beth?” Suddenly an awful fear overswept her anger. “Oh, Beth—can't we be happy?” she pleaded. “We were so happy before. What happened? Why does Charlie matter?” The tears spilled over. “Do we have to quarrel and make each other miserable like this?"

  "Oh, baby. No, no, we'll work it out. Somehow.” She reached for her and Laura cried in her arms.

  "Beth, we have such a beautiful thing together. We just can't let anything happen to it. We can't let anyone hurt it or come between us."

  Beth wondered where the words were that would win her pardon. There didn't seem to be any.

  "Beth,” Laura whispered. “You won't see him again, will you?"

  Beth was silent, not because she was torn again between the two, but because she hadn't the guts to say “Yes, I will see him."

  "Beth?” Laura's voice was small and lost, like a child's in an empty room.

  Beth pressed her close. “I don't know,” she whispered. Laura took it in silence and in a moment Beth added, “I might have to, Laur. I might have to—to ward off suspicion."

  "Beth, please.” It was almost inaudible.

  "Laura, baby, I can't promise. I think I have to see him."

  "Why?” Her voice came out again, demanding.

  "I've told you why. What will he think about you—and me-if I don't?"

  Laura sat up and pulled away from her. “I don't care what he thinks. I don't care, I'm not ashamed. Are we doing something dirty or wicked to be ashamed of? Are we, Beth?"

  "No.” She shut her eyes and said slowly, “But other people don't understand that, Laur. We have to keep it secret—absolutely secret. People will say we're queer—"

  "But we're not! I know what queer is. I've seen people—"

  "Laura, we're just as queer as the ones who look queer,” Beth said sharply, looking at her. “We're doing the same damn thing. Now, let's not kid ourselves. Let's be honest with each other, at least.” Her own deception shut her up.

  Laura sat and stared at her with a horrified face. “Beth—” she quavered, shaking her head. “No ... no..."

  Beth grasped her hands. “I'm sorry. Oh, I'm sorry, that was a terrible way to say it. I'm just so damn upset. I—"

  "Are we really—” She couldn't say the word. “Are we, Beth?"

  "Yes."

  Laura was mute for a minute, and then she said, “All right. Then we are.” She set her chin. “That still doesn't make it dirty or wicked."

  "No.” Beth smiled ruefully at her and kissed her hands. “It just makes it illegal."

  Laura pulled her hands away and for a long while said nothing. Finally she said, “Are you going to see him, then?"

  "Yes."

  "How did he know your phone number?"

  "Emmy."

  Laura stood up suddenly and turned an outraged back to Beth.

  "Laura, Emmy's a friend. A very close friend of mine."

  "Not of mine."

  "Try to understand, Laura. She only wanted to help."

  "Can't you make her understand you don't need help?"

  "That would hurt her terribly. I can't hurt her, Laur."

  "You can't hurt her, but you can hurt me?"

  "Oh, Laura.” Beth put her head in her hands. “I don't want to hurt either of you,” she said from between her palms. “I don't want to hurt anybody."

  "Well, choose between us, then. Because apparently one of us has to be hurt."

  "Laura, will you stop?” Beth cried, looking at her. “My God, who's hurting who? What are you trying to make me do? What do you want me to say?

  Laura went to her and sank to her knees beside her. She put her head in Beth's lap, clutching at her, and said hoarsely, “I want you to love me, Beth, that's all. I want you to love me. Say that's selfish, say it's anything you want to call it, I can't help it. I love you more than life or death and I can't stand to think of losing you. I can't stand it, Beth, do you hear me? Oh, Beth, Beth, my darling, say you love me. Say that, and I don't care what happens. I don't care what else you say or what you do or even what we are. I don't care, if you'll only just tell me you love me ... Beth? You do love me, don't you?"

  "Yes, Laura."

  "Say it."

  "I love you, Laur."

  Laura shut her eyes and didn't see the suffering in Beth's. There was nothing more they could say to each other then. And there was nothing more they could do. Emily would be back from lunch at any moment and both of them realized how dangerous it would be to continue as they were. They silently started tidying up the room.

  Emily found her roommates in a state or apparent calm. Laura was collecting a pile of books and getting ready to leave.

  "Where're you going, Laur?” said Emily conversationally.

  "Over to the library.” Laura wouldn't look at her. She was furious with Emily.

  "I'll be down in Mary Lou's room, Emmy. We have that Comparative Lit. final tomorrow,” Beth said, starting out of the room. “If anyone calls, I'll be down there.” She looked cautiously at Laura, but Laura seemed unperturbed.

  "Okay,” said Emily. “Hey, when are you going out?” She knew instantly, from the look on Beth's face, that Beth hadn't told Laura about her date. Emmy bit her tongue too late.

  "I—don't know,” Beth said, and she and Laura looked at each other. “He said he'd call. About five, I think."

  Laura stood perfectly still with a book in her hands and stared at Beth. Emmy made the diplomatic move; the coming storm raised enough charge to frighten her out of the room.

  "Guess I'll go see Bobbie,” she said hastily, and backed out. She pulled the door shut behind her and walked down the hall in bewilderment. She didn't go to see Bobbie, she went to the living room and sat down in an alcoved corner and began, in spite of herself, to analyze the situation. She could put two and two together, but she could not believe in four until she saw it with her own eyes. It was the most difficult logic she ever faced: it was simple, irrefutable, and incredible—a lover's quarrel. Emmy gave an involuntary shudder.

  Laura didn't say anything for a few moments after Emmy left. She sat down at the desk and stared out the window, speechless. Beth came up behind her, afraid to touch her, and stood behind her chair for a moment. Finally she said, “I meant to tell you, Laur. I just couldn't, after we got to talking. I can't bear to hurt you. Everything I say, everything I do, hurts you. It was cowardly, I know; I'll admit it. God knows I can't bear pain. And when I hurt you, I surfer too. I suffer terribly.

  No sound, no gesture, came from Laura. Beth went around and sat on the desk and looked at her. “Laura, honey, you said—you said it didn't matter. You said nothing mattered as long as we had each other. You said you didn't care, as long as I loved you."

  "Do you love me, Beth?"

  "You know I do."

  "No, I
don't."

  "I do, Laura."

  "Then why didn't you tell me? Why do you lie to me, Beth?"

  "Oh, darling—I'm afraid the truth hurts, sometimes. I didn't really lie to you, Laur, I just—tried to shield you."

  You should have told me, Beth. You never tell me anything. I have to guess, and if I ask the right questions, maybe I get the right answers. Otherwise I never learn anything. Not telling the truth is as wrong as telling lies, Beth. You knew all the time this morning you were going out with him this afternoon. It's yourself you're trying to shield."

  Beth sighed. “I'm going out with him this evening, Laur. Because there's no way to explain to him why I won't go out."

  "All right, Beth. Why didn't you just tell me that? I'd rather be hurt honestly than dishonestly."

  "Oh, Laura, don't you understand—"I understand that I'm being treated like an irresponsible child,” Laura exclaimed. “I'm being shielded from nothing, Beth. It's yourself you're trying to protect."

  "Can't you believe I'd do something—anything—for you? Laura, if I've lied, and I have, it's been for your sake. Can't you understand that? My God, I've had to lie to Charlie for you and to Emmy, and—” And even to myself, she finished, silently. “And me."

  "No, Laur."

  Laura nodded at her. “Yes, Beth. Yes. Beth, I've been honest with you—absolutely honest—but you've got to be the same with me. I know I'm young. I know I'm inexperienced and childish sometimes. But you can't help me to grow up by treating me like a child; by shooing me out while you share your secrets with somebody else."

  "Laura, I'm not sharing them with anyone else,” she said, and her voice was tired.

  "You haven't any right to deceive me, Beth,” said Laura unhappily.

  Beth's sorrows suddenly swelled and split inside and poisoned her. “God damn it, Laura!” she exploded. “Damn it, damn it, damn it! I've done nothing that I didn't do for your sake, nothing!” She stood up and strode to the other side of the room, and whirled to face Laura. “Will you never understand that? I've made mistakes, I know. I've hurt you, I know that, too. But do you have to harp on it? Do you have to cavil and pester and torment me, day after day—"

  "Beth!"

  "Like a damn silly little child—"

  "Beth—"

  "You make it impossible for me to handle this any other way, Laura. I thought we could handle the thing like adults, but apparently we aren't quite capable of that."