by Ann Bannon
Charlie stood up from a bench by the stair well. “I've been waiting for you,” he said.
She stood frozen for a minute, and then she started briskly for the elevator. “I haven't got time, Charlie."
"Well, make time,” he said. He caught her arms and took her bag from her. “Going someplace?"
"Yes. Let me go."
"Not this time, Beth. Where're you going?"
"That's none of your business."
"All right,” he said. An elevator stopped and the doors opened and people spilled out. “I'm going to talk to you, Beth, whether you like it or not,” Charlie said. People looked at them curiously. “I'm going to talk to you right here and now, in front of anybody and everybody—unless you'd care to give me a little privacy."
"Charlie, don't be a fool,” she said sharply. “Give me my bag."
"Beth, there's something I've been meaning to tell you for a long time."
People stopped and watched them. “All right, Charlie,” she said in a brittle voice. She went to the door of a conference room, looked in and found it empty. “We can use this,” she said. “But make it snappy.” He followed her in, shutting the door behind him. “Beth, where are you going?” he said seriously, indicating the bag.
Beth sighed impatiently. “I'm going home for the weekend. With Laura. On the five-fifteen.” She looked significantly at her watch.
Charlie looked at her in alarm, suddenly alerted. “With Laura?” he said.
Beth turned her back on him. “Yes, with Laura. Now, what is it you're so anxious to tell me?"
Charlie knew he might lose her, then; really lose her. The bag looked ominous, sitting quietly on the long polished conference table. He leaned against the wall, watching Beth pace up the other side of the table, wondering if he could flush the truth out of her with a scare. “Why don't you take her to New York?” he said,
Beth stood absolutely still. The click of her heels died abruptly and she was tense as a guy wire, motionless. He hit home—her back told him so. Finally she turned and looked at him.
"What do you mean?” she said, and her voice was very soft.
He straightened up. “If you're in love with her, go live with her.” His eyes were relentless.
Beth gazed at him with a stricken frown on her face, and suddenly she hurried toward the door. Charlie stepped in front of it, and she stopped, unwilling to touch him. She turned her back to him again.
"Is that all you have to say to me, Charlie?"
"No,” he said. “Do you love her, Beth?"
"What are you trying to prove, Charlie?"
"What are you trying to hide, Beth?"
"Nothing!” she flared.
"Then be honest with me. Do you love her?"
She paused, looking anxiously for an answer. “What makes you think I love her?"
"Answer me, damn it!” he said.
She said, in a haggard, scarcely audible voice, “I don't know ... I don't know.” And then she turned angry eyes on him. “How did you know?"
"I figured it out. Look, Beth—all I want is a chance to talk to you. I'm not going to strong-arm you into anything; I'm not going to beat you over the head. You ought to know that by this time. I didn't expect to find you running away, but—"
"I'm not running away. Damn it, Charlie, I'm running into more problems than I'm running away from. I'm not a coward."
"Listen to me, Beth,” he said, and his eyes were intense and his voice was soft. “Just listen to me for a minute. And remember, no matter what I say, no matter what you feel, I love you."
That silenced her. For a minute he regarded her quietly and then he said, “Grow up, Beth. I don't know how much there is to this thing between you and Laura, honey, but it's all off balance, 111 tell you that. It's cockeyed because Laura's in love with you and you aren't in love with Laura."
"I am!"
"A minute ago you didn't know.” Her eyes fell, and she rubbed them in confusion. “And what's more,” he went on in his firm voice, “she doesn't know you're in love with me. She doesn't know you ever were.'
"I'm not."
He ignored her. “This is child stuff, Beth, this thing between you and Laura. You're deceiving yourself, denying yourself. You're a woman, honey—a grown woman. An intelligent, beautiful girl with a good life ahead of you. And that life has a man in it and kids and a college degree. Maybe it can't be that way for Laura. But it's got to be that way for you."
"I want something more than that.” Her voice was contemptuous.
"Then you'll find it. But not by running away. And certainly not by running away with a girl, and a girl you don't love, at that."
"Charlie, damn it—"
"You can't run away, Beth.” His voice, his gestures, were urgent. “My God, you've read the books. What do they all say—every damn one? They say running away won't help, it won't solve the problem. You can't run away from the problem, you have to stand pat and face it. Look, darling, he said, “you aren't in love with Laura. Laura's in love with you, yes, but—my God, don't you see what you're doing? You're using her as an excuse. You're sorry for her, you want to take care of her as if she were a little girl, without thinking what harm that's doing her. You're sorry for Emmy, you're sorry for yourself. You're mad at the whole God-damned world and me in particular because there are rules that you don't like, and when somebody breaks the rules somebody gets hurt.
"Don't you see how young that is? It's kid stuff, honey. That's the kind of thing you did back in grade school when the world was a big mystery and rules didn't seem to make any sense. You couldn't fight them, you couldn't make sense of them, so you either kicked and screamed or you ran away."
"Charlie,” she whispered, and he could hear the tears in her voice, “I can't hurt Laura. I can't hurt her. Not now. It's too late."
"Beth...” He came up behind her and took her shoulders in his hands, bending his head down close to hers. “Jesus, Beth, don't you see how much greater the harm would be if you let her go along thinking you love her—let her leave school and home and everything she knows for you—and then let her find out some day that you don't really love her? That you never loved her? That you've only been playing with her, using her for your own self-assurance, lying to her all along?"
"Oh, Charlie.” Her shoulders trembled. “You make it sound so terrible."
"It is terrible, darling. But it hasn't happened yet.” He felt the first twinge of hope. He was right; she was frightened. The premise he had gambled on was true. She loved him, not Laura; it remained only to convince her of this herself. “It would hurt her so awfully if I—if I—"
"Not like it will a few months from now. Or a year. Then it could hurt so much that she'd never recover. Beth, my love...” He put his arms around her. “Running away now won't help Emmy either. It won't undo the wrong. It won't make Laura happy. And think what it's going to do to you. Face it, honey, look ahead. Think, not just of Laura or Emmy or me, but of yourself. What will this do to your life? Beth,” he said, turning her around and lifting her chin.
She looked at him through welling tears.
"You don't need to be loved right now, my darling,” he said, and she frowned in wonderment. “You are, but that's not the point. You don't need to be loved one half so much as you need to love, Beth. And you need to love a man ... and you do."
They stared at each other for a long time while her tears slowed and stopped and his face came into focus and his strength held her fast and warmed and thrilled her.
"Charlie?” she said.
He kissed her wet cheeks and her lips for a long lovely while, cradling her body against his own, letting her forget a little, find her courage and will again, pressed hard against the clean friendly power of himself. And then he pushed her firmly away.
"Your train leaves in half an hour,” he said. “I'll drop you off at the station."
He picked up her bag and led her out of the room. She followed him in confusion, her mind in an alarming uproar, her h
eart in knots. They left the Union and walked half a block to his car without saying anything. She got in and settled herself, trying at the same time to settle her frantic nerves.
They drove to the station. He stopped at the corner, some distance from the entrance, in case Laura should be there waiting. Beth hesitated, her hand on the door handle. Charlie watched her.
"It's your decision, Beth,” he said.
She closed her eyes and clamped her teeth together, and pushed the handle down. The door gave a little, and still she waited, agonized.
"It's five o'clock. Better get going,” he said. “Train leaves at five-fifteen."
"Charlie—” She turned her tortured face to him. “Charlie—"
"I'm going over to Walgreen's and get a cup of coffee,” he said. “I'll be there until five-thirty."
Slowly she got out of the car, pulling her bag after her. She gave him a long supplicating look and then shut the car door and watched him drive off. He didn't look back. She turned and walked up the steps and along the station to the entrance and went in. Laura saw her instantly.
"Oh, Beth!” she said thankfully. “For a minute I—I—oh, never mind. You're here. Thank God, you're here.” Beth tried to smile at her. “Laura, I—” she began. “I got your ticket, darling. It got so late, I—What happened, Beth? Why are you so late?"
"I—I got held up at the Union.” Could she never tell the truth?
"Oh,” Laura laughed. “I nearly had heart failure. It got later and later and—Well, anyway, you're here. We'd better go on up if we want seats. The train's loading.” She gave a Tittle tug at Beth's sleeve.
"Laura—wait. Wait. I—” She stopped, unable to talk, hardly able to face Laura.
With a forced, frightened calm, Laura took Beth's bag from her and led her to a wooden bench near the ticket windows. She made her sit down and then she took her hands and said, with inexplicable dread, “What is it, Beth?” Far away inside her it was turning cold.
"Laura—” Beth's cheeks were hot with a needling shame and uncertainty.
"Beth, you've been crying. What's the matter?"
"Oh, Laura...” Beth couldn't find her tongue. Her voice was rough with sorrow.
"Don't you want to go, darling?” Laura sounded unbelievably sad and soft and sweet. “Laura, couldn't we—couldn't we wait till Tune? I—” Laura shook her head gravely. “No, we can't wait, Beth. We have to go now, or we'll never go. You know that."
She did know it, but she couldn't come right out and admit it. “No, Laur, we could do it later. Couldn't we?” For the first time she was asking Laura instead of telling her.
Laura shook her head again and murmured, “No, Beth, tell me the truth. We haven't much time. What's the matter?"
"Laura—darling—I just can't do it. I just can't. Oh, Laura—hate me. Hate me!” And she put her head down against the bench and wept, unable to look at Laura, pulling her hand free to cover her face.
Laura held the other one hard. When Beth was quieter she raised her eyes and saw Laura's face, white and heart-breakingly gentle, and there was a curious new strength in it, an almost awesome dignity that Beth, in her distress, lacked completely.
"Laura, stay with me,” she said a little wildly. “Stay here. We'll go back to the house. It's only another month or so. Please—"
"No,” said Laura. “I have to go.” She was cold all over now, but the frost brought clarity as well as suffering. She began to understand. She heard Beth start to implore her and she stopped her.
"Beth, I have only a few minutes. Listen to me. Tell me one thing—only one. Do you love Charlie? Is that what's the matter?” Beth started to shake her head, but Laura said, “Don't try to protect me any more, Beth. I want to know the whole truth. Do you love him?"
Beth was surprised and touched by her self-command, and she gazed at her a moment before answering, “Yes,” in a whisper.
"Then I'll go. And you'll stay."
"No—"
"Listen to me!” Beth was startled into silence. Laura's voice dropped. “Beth, I love you. I'm not like other people—like most people. I can never love more or better than I love you—only more wisely maybe, some day, if I'm lucky. It can never be any other way for me. What I mean is—there can never be a man for me, Beth. I'll never love a man like I love you."
Her voice never lost its steady softness, her eyes never lost their deep hurt, her hand never relaxed its tight constriction over Beth's. She talked fast, racing the clock.
"It's different for you, Beth. I guess I've known all along, when you met Charlie and everything. I just wanted you so much, so terribly, so selfishly, that I couldn't admit it. I couldn't believe it. But you need a man, you always did. Emmy was right, she understood. If I'd only listened. I was the one who was wrong, about you and her. But I'm not wrong about myself, not any more. And not about you, either."
"Oh, Laura, my dear—"
"We haven't time for tears now, Beth. I've grown up emotionally as far as I can. But you can go farther, you can be better than that. And you must, Beth, if you can. I've no right to hold you back. Her heart shrank inside her at her own words.
"Laura, I misjudged you so. I thought you were such a baby, such a—"
"We've both made mistakes, Beth."
"Can you forgive me? I've been so—"
"You taught me what I am, Beth. I know now, I didn't before. I understand what I am, finally. It's not a question of forgiving. I'm grateful. I can face life, my family, everything now, knowing. That's terribly important. I couldn't before. Don't you see?” She couldn't cry; there were no tears potent enough to relieve her grief. Her control was almost involuntary.
"But I—I've deceived you so. I—"
"It was just an accident, the whole thing, Beth.” The train whistle blew. Laura drew nearer, her eyes profound and wise and wounded. Only five minutes left. “Don't you see what happened, Beth? We were in the same place at the same time and we both needed affection, darling. If it hadn't been that way, I wouldn't have known, I wouldn't have learned about myself, maybe not for a long time. And then it could have been a brutal, terrifying lesson. You made it beautiful, Beth.
"I guess that's all loving ever is—two people in the same place at the same time who need it. Only sometimes, for one, love has all the answers. For the other, it's just a game, a beautiful game. That's what happened to us, Beth. Neither of us willed it that way, it just happened. For you it was an accident, a sort of lovely surprise, and you took it that way. You took me for the little girl you thought I was. It was that little girl you wanted, not me. I had to be that little girl to keep you. I should have faced it then, but I couldn't. I couldn't even think about it.
"You see, for me it was love. A revelation, a forever sort of thing. Only nothing lasts forever. You told me that once."
The whistle called again. Laura got up from the bench and walked swiftly toward the exit. Beth ran after her.
"Oh, Laura, Laura, please don't go, not like this. Please."
"I have to, Beth."
"You're running away.” She followed her outside as Laura hurried toward the stairs up to the train platform.
"No, I'm facing it,” Laura said. “I know what I am, and I can be honest with myself now. I'll live my life as honestly as I can, without ruining it. I can't do that here and I can't do it with you. That's over now."
Beth listened to her words, feeling for the first time the maturity in them; knowing Laura was right and admiring her with a sudden force because Laura had the courage to say these things, these truths, and the strength to do what she knew was right. Beth rushed along beside her, holding her arm, knowing that when she released it, she would release Laura forever; she would never see her or touch her again—and yet knowing that it had to be that way. She would come to Charlie chastened with the knowledge Laura had given her; she would come to him wiser, older, and richer in love because of Laura.
"Laura,” she said as they made their way down the platform, “I'm the one who's
been acting like a baby, who's been childish about the whole thing. I never dreamed you were so—so brave.” She couldn't think of a more fitting word. “Laura, I know I'm not making much sense, but I—you do mean so much to me, Laur. So very much. I want you to know. You're not the only one who's learned and who's grateful."
They reached the last car and Laura turned to her. There was the shade of a smile on her face. The pain was awful but the wound was clean. It would heal.
"Beth, I'm not angry. I thought I'd be bitter. I thought I'd hate Charlie if this ever happened. I thought I'd hate you more than anyone else on earth. But I've thought about it a lot, when you were seeing him so much and so happy with him, and I was spending those long nights at home alone. Even now, when you were late getting to the station, I kind of imagined what it would be like. I knew it would hurt, but—somehow I guess I always knew it would happen. It had to; you can't need men and spend the rest of your life with a girl. I knew you weren't—queer—like I am."
The word slapped Beth cruelly in the face. “Laura—” she protested.
"I knew as well as you did that it wouldn't last. Only I couldn't admit it, because I love you."
"Oh, Laura, darling—"
The conductor shouted, “All aboard!"
Laura put her bag on the steps and took Beth's hands again. “Beth, you're meant for a man. Like Charlie. I'm not. I'm not afraid to go, I'm not sorry. It hurts, and I love you—” Her eyes dropped and she almost faltered. “I love you—” she whispered, And Beth felt the pressure of her hands as the train gave a preliminary jerk.
"Laura!” Beth cried, walking by the train, and Laura looked up again.
"But I wouldn't have the strength to face it if I didn't."
Beth reached for her and pulled her head down and kissed her, there on the train platform in the late afternoon sun with the train inching away from her and all Champlain free to watch.
"Laura, I love you,” she said, letting Laura slide from her arms as the train pulled her away. And she meant it, for the first time. She loved her; not as Laura would have wanted her to, but sincerely, honestly, the best love she could offer.