She twisted her face into a smile and tried to sound light-hearted as she wished she felt. "Angie," she said, "I don't know about you but I'm sleepy. So let's get this over with and go to bed. I promise I won't get upset. Just tell me what happened."
Angie set her cup on the rug. "Why?"
She didn't have an answer for that one. She simply shrugged.
"Why?" Angie repeated.
"Well, why not?" Carolyn said. She heard the irritation in her voice and quickly tried to cover up. "Unless now you're afraid that I'm too young to know."
It sounded snide and she was sorry she had said it. She watched her attempt at humor fall flat on its face.
Angie sat up as grandly as she could in the awkward chair, her feet still under her. She raised her chin and prepared to speak.
Watching her, Carolyn imperceptibly let herself relax. Angie had obviously decided to play the scene for all the melodrama she could wring out of it. Which simply meant that nothing had really happened. When she had something worth hiding, she hid it well.
"I've been up on the roof," Angie said. 'Thinking. I had to be alone for awhile."
Carolyn decided to take her word for it. "What happened to Jimmy?"
"I sent him home hours ago." Angie lowered her head to look at Carolyn directly. "Carol," she said and she sounded almost breathless, "something happened tonight. Something real."
Carolyn's eyebrow went up. "So I gather," she said sarcastically.
Angie ignored her. "I've never been so… so moved," she said. She brought her fingers together like a child praying and rested her chin on their tips. "Carol, he's still in love with me. Can you imagine?"
Carolyn looked at the adorable face with its shining, happy eyes. She laughed then, but not for Angie to hear. "It does happen sometimes," she said gravely. "I think my parents still love each other and they've been married for almost forty years."
"But they're old, Carol. Parents are always like that. You don't see it often with young people."
Carolyn knew it was useless to tell Angie that her parents had been sixteen when they married. For to Angie, the thought of a parent having ever been sixteen was preposterous. Hers was a simple and blissfully illogical approach to life. She thrived on catastrophe and feared boredom worse than death, so that every instant was made intense and unique. She did not learn from experience. Indeed, she did not experience. She merely over-reacted.
"You're probably right," Carolyn said just to keep her talking. "I don't know much about it."
Angie's smile was complacent. "Well, I know," she said. "Jimmy's been in love with me for two years. And that's something."
"Who is he, anyway?" Carolyn asked. "You haven't mentioned him before, as far as I can remember."
Angie spread her hands on her thighs and smoothed her skirt. "Well, I told you I was engaged to a fellow right after I came to the States," she said. "His sister used to live in the same place I did. You know, the girls' club. He was the first boy I met here and we went out a lot and we got engaged."
"You and Jimmy?"
"Of course," Angie said impatiently. "What's the matter with Jimmy, may I ask?"
Carolyn started to say that he looked like a bull ape, but modified it quickly. "He doesn't look like your type, that's all." She shrugged. "I didn't think you liked them so aggressive."
Angie snorted. "I know what you're thinking. And he's not like that at all."
"He's no eunuch."
"I didn't say he was," Angie persisted. "He's—well, he's just nice, that's all. He never touched me."
Carolyn smiled ruefully. "Whose fault is that?" she asked quietly.
Angie jumped up from the chair and walked away from her angrily.
Finally she turned back and stood glowering down at Carolyn. "I hate you sometimes," she said. "You think all anybody's interested in is sex just because that's how you are. Well, let me tell you something. Jimmy's one of the nicest guys I've ever known and he still wants to marry me and I'm not sure I won't!"
Carolyn knew it would be unwise to hit back, to cut at Angie the way Angie was slicing at her. But her jealousy and her sense of loss were too much and she had to hurt her.
She looked up at Angie and said, very calmly, "What about me?"
Angie was silent just a second, then flared, "Well, what about you? It's got nothing to do with you."
"Oh? I think it does, Angie. I don't believe your Jimmy's the type to overlook the fact that you've been sleeping with a woman all these months. Especially since you wouldn't do the same for him." She paused, then added, "Why don't you ask him?"
Angie's face went gray. She sat down abruptly on the couch and stared blankly in front of her. "He hates queers,"
she muttered. "A fella made a pass at him once and he almost killed him."
"No doubt," Carolyn said.
She had nothing more to say. She had won for the moment, but she had no sense of triumph. She knew she had given Angie an even larger problem than she had had before.
Carolyn knew that Angie had never really been able to cope with the business of being gay. Her attitude towards life she had learned at her mother's knees and she cherished it lovingly. There was no room in "Mum's" code for happiness, only for sticking to the rules. A husband, a couple of kids, a little house, a little car. All the conventional things. Carolyn realized, as Angie did not, that the little conventional things would soon bore the girl right out of her mind. She had never been able to convince Angie of that. And, though Angie hadn't mentioned it for a long time, Carolyn knew that it bothered the girl that she was not playing the game according to Mum's rules. She thrived on Mum's approval. Carolyn's didn't matter a bit.
Looking at the girl, Carolyn sighed. Poor Angie! So confused. Not really wanting a man, revolted by sex and scared to death. But now she would have to know, would have to find out if a man could love her after… that.
Carolyn took the cups into the kitchen and left them in the sink. Then she went into the bedroom, chased Bridgit off the pillow and turned down the spread.
"Come on to bed," she called to Angie. "It's after three."
Angie appeared in the doorway.
"Well, come on."
Angie shook her head, "I only called him because I was upset this morning."
"Yes," Carolyn said, "I know that."
Angie lingered in the doorway. "Carol."
"Yes?"
"Thanks for the roses, honey."
Carolyn stopped undressing to look at her.
"They're beautiful,'' Angie whispered. "And so are you." Her eyes were warm and tender now. She had set Jimmy aside to think about later.
They got ready for bed without discussing the evening further.
Angie took off the new earrings and put them back in the pasteboard box. She looked at Carolyn fondly, then went to her and hugged her tight. Carolyn did not reach out to take the girl in her arms.
Angie stepped back and peered at her. "Are you still mad at me?" She sounded amazed.
Carolyn shook her head and turned away. "No, I'm not mad at you, Angie." She sighed. "I'm just not quite sure what's going on around here."
"Why?"
"Well," Carolyn began, "I know why you saw Jimmy tonight. And so far, we're even, I guess."
Angie laughed. "We're even."
"Good. Then there's no reason for you to see him again," she said confidently.
"I have to. Tomorrow night."
Carolyn was startled but she tried not to let Angie know it. She walked away to the windows and adjusted the curtain. "What for?"
Angie grinned triumphantly. "To tell him I won't marry him." She put out her hands to Carolyn. "I don't really love him. I never did."
'Then why—"
"But, Carol, he wants to marry me," Angie said, as though it explained everything.
Carolyn looked at her helplessly. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"You should know about that," Angie teased. She came up close to the girl. "Aren't you the one w
ho told me men only want one thing?"
Carolyn shook her head. "Only some men, Angie," she said.
"Well, anyhow," Angie went on, "I think it's special when a man wants to marry you. It means a lot to a man to get married. And it makes you feel important when a man asks you to marry him."
"Angie," Carolyn said patiently, "I am willing to believe that Jimmy loves you, if you think so. But so do I, damn it.
And it means just as much to me to have you as it would mean to him. And you love me, not Jimmy. At least that's what you say. Doesn't that make any difference to you at all, Angie?"
Angie had grown restless and irritated with the whole discussion. She could never sustain in anything interest for long. She flopped down on the bed. "Of course it does, Carol. But after all, I want to have children someday and a home. That's what every woman wants. Even you. We can't live like this forever. We have to grow up and accept our responsibilities, our role in life."
Carolyn did not know what textbook Angie had been reading, but she kissed her goodnight before the girl could launch into a lecture on infantile sexuality. It was difficult to be so young, so uninformed.
Just as she was going to sleep, Angie crept close and whispered, "Carol?"
Carolyn mumbled, "Umm?"
"Carol, could a man tell?"
She opened her eyes and slowly sat up. "Tell what?"
"You know. About us."
She looked at Angie but did not speak until the urge to strangle her had passed. She did not understand how she could hate her and want her so, all at the same time. She didn't even try. She took the girl in her arms and slid one hand under the filmy gown and trailed her fingertips up the inside of Angie's thigh.
She kissed the tip of the girl's earlobe and whispered, "I'll try not to leave any scars."
CHAPTER 4
Carolyn left the house at four-thirty and hurried down the street to her car. Minutes later she turned left on Eighty Sixth Street and sped toward Central Park.
She felt sorry now that she had accepted her mother's invitation to come to dinner and bring Walter. But her parents were lonely and old and she would not disappoint them, not even for Angie. Yet this time she felt sorry, for she wanted to be with the girl.
She had tried all day to talk to Angie, to tell her they were through playing games. And all day Angie had managed to evade her. Carolyn understood that she could no longer trust the girl to be faithful. But she could not even pretend that she didn't care. Her heart sickened with the thought of Angie and Jimmy together. Alone, maybe even in her own bed.
Annoyed, she jammed her foot down hard on the accelerator. The little car shot around the corner. She saw Walter toss a cigarette away and start down the steps. He wore the blue suit she liked and a crisp white shirt. His sunburned forehead glistened.
Carolyn had never considered Walter exciting, he was just her closest friend. The building he lived in was a sort of cherished antique, a townhouse, well-worn but still solidly intact among its renovated neighbors. Something honest and substantial about the old building always comforted Carolyn and, watching him come toward her, she thought how right it was that Walter should live here.
"I'm sorry I'm late," she said before he'd opened the door.
He smiled a greeting and slid in beside her. "I just came downstairs," he said. "I called and got no answer, so I figured you were on the way." He pushed the seat back as far as it would go.
He had a gentle, easy way of speaking that Carolyn usually found good for her nerves. Now she heard only the words. They made her furious and worried, but she said nothing. As soon as he shut the door, the Renault shot forward. She raced across Seventy Ninth Street and onto the center lane of the East River Drive. A Thunderbird blared at her and roared past. She swerved to the right side of the road.
Walter looked at her quizzically and put one hand up to brace himself against the dashboard. "I got those ballet tickets," he said casually. "Two weeks from Thursday." His tone demanded no answer but he waited expectantly.
She nodded thanks but kept her gaze on the road. She could think of nothing to say. Not even to Walter. He wasn't trying to pry. She knew that he sensed her tension and wanted only to help if he could. But she didn't feel like talking about Angie. She didn't even want to think about Angie any more. And for some reason, for the first time in all the years she had known him, it annoyed her that Walter realized she needed help.
She heard him take out a fresh pack of cigarettes and peel back the cellophane.
He lit two and handed one to Carolyn. She nodded her thanks.
Walter sat back against the seat and smoked in silence. She felt him watching her and she grew more nervous. He had never disapproved of her relationship with Angie so long as she was happy. But he had told her quite bluntly what he thought of the girl. And now she could not bear to hear him say: I told you so.
They roared through the Battery Tunnel into Brooklyn. The crowded Parkway glinted with fugitives from the Manhattan heat dashing out to the Island for sea food and a breath of fresh air. They brought the oppressive heat of the city with them and even along the Narrows there was no breeze, only the smell of salt and tar and fish.
Walter poked his head out the window and inhaled deeply. "Smell that air!" he said happily. "Say, do you realize I've been trying to get you to the beach since May?"
She glanced at him quickly but he kept his attention on the water.
"Maybe next weekend," he said. "We could pack a lunch."
She smiled. He was trying so hard. "Maybe," she said. "But I can't promise. Weekends are usually pretty busy. You know how it is."
He looked at her squarely now and there were deep lines of concern around his eyes. "Yes, I know how it is," he agreed. He frowned and shook his head. "But I'm not so sure you do."
"What?"
"Angievitis," he said.
"Walter—" she started, a warning in her voice.
"Look," he said calmly, "I've known you for a long time, Carolyn. Don't try to tell me there's nothing wrong when I know that you're miserable."
"I didn't try to tell you anything. I just don't want to talk about it, Walter. Leave me be."
He shrugged. "It's none of my business, after all, is it?" He paused, then went on. "But when you feel like talking, Carolyn, you'll know where to find me."
His quiet way of always winning a point infuriated her suddenly. How the hell could he be so sure of himself and always be right?
"Damn it, Walter, leave me alone," she muttered. "I don't need help from you or anybody else. I got myself into this and I'll get myself out."
He held up his hands to ward her off. "Okay, okay," he said. "I didn't mean any harm."
She felt her cheeks flush warmly. She always hated to argue with Walter. She rarely did. There was something about the two of them together that made disagreements ridiculous. She remembered the afternoon they met, in the library at school, back in the stacks. She had been thumbing through a copy of Moby Dick. He had taken the book out of her hand, led her outside under the trees and spent three hours convincing her that reading fiction was a waste of time. He had given her a long list of books on everything from the sayings of Buddha to the raising of bees and lent her underlined, annotated copies to read.
It had always been like that, until Angie came along. Angie didn't have the patience for books. Or for Walter. And the hours Carolyn spent with him now were not hours of quiet discussion. They were fraught with nervousness, with his disgust for Angie and Carolyn's guilt at having left the girl alone. Still, her friendship with Walter was the one thing she would not let the girl destroy.
At Ocean Avenue they turned off the parkway and back onto city streets. She had always hated the neighborhood where her parents lived. It was noisy and dirty and poor, without color and without pride.
The Webers lived in a third floor walk-up above a bakery and a tailor shop and the bakery sent them cockroaches and the tailor sent them steam. Yet she had never heard either of them com
plain. It was not their way. She did not know what miracle had left her parents uncontaminated by the air of defeat that permeated the rest of the neighborhood, but she thanked God that it was so. The happiness they shared had even tided them over the blow of having their only child move away from home. They did not understand her need for independence, but they accepted it without question because it was what she wanted.
She parked the Renault in front of the house and Walter followed her into the bakery where she bought a dozen rolls. Every week she brought a little something. It was the most they would let her do.
Upstairs, the two of them let themselves into the apartment which was fragrant with the aroma of good food that hung always in the air. Together they yelled "hi" to Mom as she came out to meet them. Walter had called her Mom the first time they met and Mom had taken him to her heart. It was a good thing for both of them, for his parents were dead and she had no son. She had never quit hoping that Carolyn might marry Walter. Neither had Pop.
Carolyn leaned in at the livingroom doorway and waved to the old man. He had the checkerboard already set up between his knees.
Walter grinned at Carolyn and went on into the room to join Pop.
In the kitchen her mother took the package of rolls and gave Carolyn a hug in exchange. Then she stepped back and narrowed her eyes to peer closely at her daughter. "Something's wrong, Carolyn?" she said. "I never saw you look so tired."
Carolyn shook her head. "Nothing's wrong, Mom. I've been working hard, that's all." She knew that her mother had no conception of the mysteries of bio-chemistry and that to her, at least, even thinking about such things must be hard work. She smiled but Mom did not smile in return.
"Uh huh," Mom said. "Your Angie called. She sounds lousy. She's been working hard, too?"
Carolyn's breath stuck in her throat. It was peculiar, the way Mom said "your Angie." She had no idea of the relationship between them, but she understood well enough that Angie had caused the worry and unhappiness in her daughter's face. There was an edge of annoyance in Mrs. Weber's voice that Carolyn had rarely heard before.
Unashamed, The Page 3