Warm and Willing

by Lawrence Block

  Fifteen minutes later she found Bobbie in a corner with a married woman, holding her wrist and whispering into her ear. She let out a yell and went for Bobbie, ready to strangle her. It took three boys to pull the two of them apart.

  She was sitting on the edge of the bathtub and Peg Brandt was sitting beside her, stroking her forehead. She had just been very sick and her head was still rocky.

  She said, “I hate her. She doesn’t love me. I hate her.”

  “Easy, Rhoda.”

  “Did you see what that bitch was doing? Did you see her?”

  “She didn’t mean anything.”

  “Didn’t mean-”

  “She was a little drunk, that’s all. She’s very sorry now, Rhoda. Really she is. I know Bobbie, I’ve known her for years and she’s crazy about you. You know that.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “Maybe she was just trying to make you jealous. My God, Rhoda, look at the merry-go-round Lu keeps me on. It’s the same kind of thing. Except she doesn’t just flirt, she has affairs. But she loves me inside, and I love her and we stay together.”

  “Peg-”

  “Bobbie loves you. And you love her, don’t you?”

  “Oh, of course I do! But-”

  “Just take it easy now. Bobbie wants to see you, she wants to apologize. Will you see her now?”

  “Give me a minute. Oh, I must look like hell.”

  “You look all right.”

  “I’m a mess. And I feel rotten, I really do. I hate to get sick like this. I made one hellish scene out there, didn’t I?”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “They had to pull me away from her. Peg, did I hurt her?”

  “No.”

  “But I must have scratched her.”

  “Bobbie’s all right. She just wants to make up with you.”

  “Peg, why do we do things like this to each other? Why?”

  “God knows.”

  She waited in the bathroom. Peg left, closed the door. She fixed her makeup, freshened her face, washed her mouth out. Her head was throbbing. She found a bottle of aspirin and took two tablets. She went to the door, opened it.

  Bobbie was there. She said, “Rho, I’m sorry. I was drunk I didn’t know what I was doing. Forgive me.”

  They kissed. In the living room, the fat man was playing his guitar again and the hi-fi was competing with him. They went into the kitchen to get fresh drinks.

  After they left the Barrow Street apartment they stopped at the Pam Pam on Seventh Avenue for food and coffee. Roz and her girl had wandered off to another party and Grace and Allie had gone home early. The six of them sat at a table in back. They were all pretty drunk. They had ham and eggs and drank a lot of black coffee. Megan knew a party uptown that she wanted go to, a crowd she knew from her work. Jan said she was sick of gay boys and wanted to go to an all-girl party. “The boys get on my nerves,” she complained.

  Lucia Perry knew where there was a party. The six of them piled into a Checker cab and rode across town to a tenement on Saint Mark’s Place. It was the right address but the party had ended. The hostess, who’d changed her name from Claudia to Claude, was there with another girl. They had one round of drinks and left. Claude told them something was doing at a loft on First Avenue and they went there.

  On the way, she said, “Every time I had to say her name I thought I was talking to our cat.”

  “Claude the cat. I was thinking the same thing.”

  There was a party. Rhoda knew some of the girls there, had run across them at other parties, and at Leonetti’s. She did a lot of drinking and didn’t remember very much of what was happening. She looked at her watch once and noticed that it was a quarter after two. The next time she looked it was twenty minutes to four and they were leaving the party.

  Stretches of blackness And clarity: They were walking down a narrow street. A taxi sped past them, took a corner on two wheels. Down the block, couples were spilling out of a bar that was closing. Bobbie had an arm around her waist and she felt herself spilling over with love.

  “I’m drunk,” she said.

  “Rho-”

  She thought she was going to be sick again, but managed to get control of herself and the feeling passed. She whirled around and kissed Bobbie on the mouth. She started to sway and Bobbie caught hold of her and drew her in and kissed her again, and Bobbie’s tongue was in her mouth and she held the girl tight against her and let the world go away and kissed her hard and gasped for breath. They were necking on the street like shameless tramps but she didn’t care, didn’t care, and it was too much trouble to stagger off into a doorway because she didn’t care who saw them, didn’t care, but she just wanted to be held and kissed, just wanted everything to be soft and rosy and good and sweet and “I’ll be damned!”

  She broke away, swayed, stared. A man in front of her, his arm around the waist of a giggling blonde, was glaring and pointing at her. Bobbie had drawn away. She looked at the man and watched his face swim in and out of focus. The face was familiar but she couldn’t place it.

  “Sweet little Rhoda,” he said. “Little Miss Hard-to-Get. Jesus, I should have guessed it, I should have figured it out. Jesus, the little frigid one turns out to be a dyke.”

  And then she saw his face again, and this time she recognized him . Ed Vance. She drew back as if slapped and he came after her, not to reach for her but to jeer at her.

  “You little dyke. You had me going, you know that? I figured you for a hunk of ice that old Tom never knew how to warm up right. Figured it wouldn’t be too hard to straighten things out. A few dinners, a few nights on the town to get you primed. And then I’d show you what it’s like to be a woman. Jesus, I don’t know how I missed it. Living with another girl-sure, sleeping with another girl is more like it.”

  Get away, she thought. Go away, leave me alone. Go away from me.

  “Tom know about you?”

  She shook her head.

  “He’ll get a kick out of this, he said. He threw back his head and laughed hysterically. The blonde detached herself from Ed and was looking oddly from one to the other. He turned to her, “Get this,” he said. “I was trying to make time with this dyke. I never even guessed. You imagine?”

  The blonde didn’t say anything. Ed laughed again. Rhoda’s knees felt shaky and she couldn’t stand. Then Bobbie was taking her arm, hurrying past the man and the girl and on down the street.

  She heard him calling after her. “Hey girls,” he yelled. “I mean fellas. Hey, fellas!” He laughed again, and she could hear the blonde laughing with him. “Hey fellas,” he called again. “Don’t do anything dirty.”

  She didn’t remember the walk home. She had a hazy memory of his laughter, harsh and strident, following her down the street. Then there was a large blank space, and then she was in their apartment with Bobbie. She was being sick again, her stomach turning itself painfully inside out, and Bobbie was holding her and telling her that everything would be all right.

  Bobbie made her take off all her clothes and get under the shower. The water pounded down upon her flesh and she stood under the spray like a statue in a rainstorm, barely feeling the water, aware of next to nothing. She was in the shower for a long time. Then she got out and Bobbie dried her with a yellow towel and led her into the bedroom. When she lay down her stomach started to bother her again and her head reeled crazily and she sat up. Bobbie lit a cigarette and gave it to her. She took a drag and closed her eyes and dropped the cigarette onto the bed. Bobbie picked it up quickly and gave it back to her.

  “Oh, I’m sick,” she said.

  “Easy, easy.”

  “That was Ed,” she said, “Ed Vance. He was a friend of-”

  “I know.”

  “You do?”

  “You told me on the way home.”

  “I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything. Bobbie, I don’t feel good.”

  “Do you want to throw up some more?”

  “No. I dra
nk too much. Why did I drink so much?”

  “Everybody drank too much.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s New Year’s.”

  She drew on the cigarette. She couldn’t stand to close her eyes because every time she did the moment on the street came burning back into her brain, the expression on his face, the words he used. She blew out a cloud of smoke and sat up straight in bed. Bobbie put a pillow against the headboard behind her and she propped herself up against it. She looked down at herself and saw that she was naked. She put her hands on her body and touched herself and looked at Bobbie.

  “I’m ugly,” she said.

  “Don’t be silly.”

  “I am ugly inside and out. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Bobbie, what’s wrong with me?”

  “Nothing. You’re a little drunk, that’s all, and you’ll feel better in the morning.”

  “In the morning?”

  “Well, maybe not. You’ll have a hangover, I guess, but it shouldn’t be too bad. You didn’t keep anything down.”

  “I’m ashamed of myself.”

  “Don’t be. Oh, Rho-”

  “Did you hear what he said? Right in the middle of the street, and the way he was yelling they could have heard him in Vermont.”

  “Forget him.”

  “He’ll tell everybody about me. About us.”

  “So?”

  “But nobody knows.” That was the truth, she realized. Only other gay people knew the truth about her. The friends she had known before, Tom’s friends, didn’t know a thing. And now they would all know. Ed Vance would tell everybody.

  “They’d find out sooner or later.”

  “I suppose so, but-”

  “Are you ashamed, Rho?”

  “I-” She narrowed he eyes, searched Bobbie’s face. “Ashamed?”

  “Of me. And of yourself.”

  “Oh, no. Of course not.”

  “Then what do you care who knows? What difference does it make?”

  “They wouldn’t understand.”

  “So?” Bobbie held her hand. “They don’t matter, Rho. Can’t you see that? The people who matter are people who understand. People like us, people in the same boat. When you’re gay your friends are your family. They’re the only ones who understand, the only ones who can really care about you. You can forget this Vance person, and the other people you knew, and your rotten husband. They don’t count.”

  “I-know that.”

  “So what’s the trouble?”

  “Nothing.”

  Bobbie got to her feet. “I’ll make some coffee,” she said. “We can both use some. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “Don’t go away-”

  “I’ll just put up some instant. I won’t be a minute.”

  She wanted to say that a minute was too long. But she stayed where she was and didn’t say anything and Bobbie went into the kitchen to boil water. She took a last drag from her cigarette and put it out, then crawled under the bedsheet. She didn’t feel sick now, at least not as much as before. But her head ached and she felt terrible inside. She didn’t know what it was that was bothering her. Bobbie was right-it didn’t make any sense to be so upset about Ed Vance, didn’t make any difference how many people knew the truth about her lesbianism. She was what she was, and you didn’t get any place worrying about that sort of thing. She was a lesbian, and she was not alone, and the opinion of straight people shouldn’t matter to her in the least.

  Then what was it?

  The whole evening, she decided. The whole rotten evening, and the fighting and making up and fighting again, and the crazy jealousy, and the way she and Bobbie struck sparks every time they brushed up against each other. And the parties, the crazy parties, with everybody trying to crowd all the joy and pleasure on earth into one hellishly artificial evening. And too much to drink, and too much laughter and too many tears, and then that scene with Ed as a capper.

  Bobbie came back with the coffee. She accepted a cup and sat up straight again to drink it. It was too hot and she set it down to cool.

  “I’m all right now,” she said.

  “Good.”

  “And I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For ruining your evening. For ruining everything. Oh, darling, why did we have to fight so much? Why?”

  “Rho-”

  “I’m sorry for it. I hate to fight with you, Bobbie.”

  “Oh, Rho, I’m sorry too.”

  “No more fights. A New Year’s Resolution, all right? We won’t fight any more.”

  “I-”

  “We’ll start the New Year right and we won’t fight. And-oh Bobbie, what’s the matter? Darling, you’re crying!”

  “I…can’t help it.”

  “Did I say something? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I just-”

  “Rho, I love you!”

  “Oh, Bobbie-”

  “We won’t fight, you’re right, we won’t fight any more. I love you so much, Rho. We won’t fight, we’ll just love each other and build something good out of this.”

  “Yes.” Her heart pounding wildly, her eyes misty with embryonic tears. “Don’t talk, darling. Just come to me.”

  “My clothes-”

  “Take them off.”

  She hadn’t expected to make love. But love came quick and warm and very tender, clearing her head and taking the unbearable weight away. She buried herself in Bobbie’s love and let the sweetness of it bathe her and cleanse her, then lay close to Bobbie and floated in the afterglow of love until sleep reached for her.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The year was two weeks old. It was a Wednesday, cold but clear, the sidewalks gray with day-old snow toned by the dirt of the city. The day’s work dragged on forever, and she was exhausted by the time she left Heaven’s Door. She wanted a drink in a bad way, but decided to wait for it until she got home. Bobbie had a shaker of martinis ready. They sat together and drank quietly. When Bobbie talked to her she answered in monosyllables. Bobbie finished her drink, went into the kitchen to open a tin of clams for Claude. She came back and sank into a chair.

  “Bad day, Rho?”

  “Not too bad.”

  “Party tonight. At Megan’s place.”

  “Do we have to dress?”

  “No. Just slacks and sweaters.”

  “I suppose we’ll go.”

  “You don’t sound happy about it, kiddo. What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing. Just a mood.”

  “Nothing I did, is it?”

  “No. Just…nothing.”

  “Want to kick the cat? Get that mad out of your system?”

  “I’ll be all right.”

  “Because we could just as easily stay home.”

  “We’ll go,” she said.

  They went. The walk through the cold air was briskly refreshing. They stopped at Leonetti’s for a quick drink, then went on to Megan’s apartment on Cornelia Street. Rhoda felt very strange walking into the apartment. She hadn’t been there since she cleared out her clothes and moved in with Bobbie. She had been in company with Megan often enough after that, so that there was no awkwardness between them any more, but they had not been together at Megan’s apartment and she was surprised how jarring it was. Every stick of furniture held memories, every room brought back a shattering memory of the way they had loved one another.

  “I may get a little bit stoned,” she told Bobbie.

  “ Do you good.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She got hold of a drink right away, finished it quickly, poured more scotch over the ice cubes and drank again. Go ahead, she told herself fiercely. Let yourself go. Loosen up, relax.

  And the liquor worked. She joined a little group in one corner-Jan Pomeroy was telling a joke about a butch and a queen trying to figure out which rest room to use. Someone told a limerick about the queer from Khartoum and Rhoda laughed, although she had heard it dozens of times. The party picked up momentum and moved at a go
od pace. She kept drinking, keeping a good even high without going over the line.

  Everything would be all right. The shop was nonsense, adolescent nonsense, and she could live without such dreams. She was what she was-there was no changing that. No reason to inquire into it too closely. She was what she was and she would lead the kind of life that was right for her. It might not be a perfect life but very few lives were ever perfect. The world itself was an imperfect world. She would make the best of it. That was all she or anyone else could do.

  Then Megan was talking to her. “I’m glad you and Bobbie could come tonight, Rhoda.”

  “It’s a swell party.”

  “Like the song, what a swell party this is. You haven’t been here since-”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “I was thinking about that. Jan and I are very happy together, did you know that? I never thought it would last.”

  “I’m happy for you.”

  “Maybe the secret is not living together. I don’t know. How are things with you and Bobbie?”

  “Fine. They were a little rocky for awhile, but we’ve weathered that storm. We’re good for each other.”

  “I’m glad, Rhoda.”

  She got herself a fresh drink. The usual crowd was there, with a sprinkling of less familiar faces. She sipped her drink and looked over at the door. Lucia Perry was there, with Roz Merrimac. Lu was telling everyone that Peg hadn’t felt well but that she decided to come over for a few minutes anyway. Someone said something that Rhoda didn’t catch. A few minutes later she saw Roz and Lucia dancing cheek to cheek, their feet barely moving.

  She looked for Bobbie. “Somebody ought to take Lu and spank her,” Bobbie said.

  “I thought-”

  “Uh-huh. Peg’s probably sitting home crying her eyes out. Roz broke off with Helen Rainey less than a week ago, and Lu’s back to her old tricks. I guess nothing ever changes.”

  “I guess not. But in public.”