Jealous And The Free, The

by March Hastings

  CHAPTER 16

  By noon the next day, Corinne had found Michele a three room furnished apartment only two blocks from her own. After she had paid sixty dollars in advance for a week's rent, Corinne left Michele alone and went back home to work.

  For a long time Michele simply stood in the middle of the livingroom, looking at her new surroundings. The three large rooms with their Danish modern furniture seemed stark and almost cold after the flat on First Street. Yet in an atmosphere like this she knew that she would be able to write. To think and make plans for the future. Except for a few hours during the evening her time would be her own. And she intended to make good use of her free hours.

  She realized that she would have to see Leda at least once more, in order to let the girl know that she had moved out for good. Leda would be able to find another roommate easily. Someone perhaps from school, who would be more sympathetic to her career, someone who might even in time take Michele's place.

  She went into the bathroom and stripped off her clothes. It would be nice to take a shower for a change, instead of sitting in the rusty old tub and watching the cockroaches climb up the wall.

  And soon she would have a new wardrobe. Corinne had promised her that. She felt as though a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. A little cleanliness, a little self-respect could help her forget. And she believed that in her new life she would finally come to the realization of all her ambitions.

  She stepped into the shower stall and turned on both faucets. Hot water. Lots of it. A luxury that she had almost forgotten existed. Nice thick towels from Corinne's place and scented pine soap. She worked up a lather on the wash cloth and began to move it slowly down the length of her torso. Funny that she had never realized what a difference a little money could make. If she had had a decent income, none of this mess would have happened with Leda. She could have made life at home pleasant enough for the girl so that she would not have needed a career. So that she would have been content to spend her life at home with Michele.

  The hot water felt good on her back. She stood for a long time, letting the stream rush over her. After the night with Corinne, her body felt relaxed and fulfilled. All of her felt good, alive. She had not had a decent night's sleep for a long time. Yet she hardly realized it now. She felt charged with purpose, direction.

  And the first thing she would have to do would be to end things with Leda. It would be only fair to the girl. And while Michele tried to convince herself that this was her only reason for going back to the old apartment, she knew in her heart that she wanted to see Leda. And she had to admit that she hoped the girl would be jealous and beg her to stay.

  Stepping out onto the shaggy white mat, Michele lifted a towel from the rack and began to dry herself. The prospect of the girl's jealousy pleased Michele immensely. She wanted Leda to put up a fight for her. Not that she would go back. Not now. But to know that Leda really wanted her, really cared...

  Michele smiled to herself as she reached for her rumpled shirt. The anticipation of her last talk with Leda spurred her on. She would meet the girl after school tonight. She didn't have to be at Corinne's place until ten. She had plenty of time.

  Standing in front of the mirror to comb her hair, Michele caught a look at the expression on her face and stopped short. There was something about complacency that did not sit well on her features. She frowned and stared glumly at her reflection.

  What would she do if Leda begged her to stay?

  A minute ago she had been positive that she would never go back to the girl, no matter what happened. But already, knowing that she would soon be face to face with the girl, Michele began to lose her nerve. If she went back to Leda, it would only be the same old story all over again. For both their sakes, it was better that they be apart. Yet, for all Corinne's love, for all the new apartments and clothes and cash, Michele knew that it was still Leda she wanted.

  She could write her a note. Explain that she wouldn't even be back to get her things.

  Michele slammed the comb down on the sink, disgusted with herself for this weak-kneed approach to the problem. Of course she would see the girl. See her and tell her the truth. And no more of this beating around the bush.

  She wandered back into the livingroom and stood looking around her. Even before she got around to Leda, she had a few things to do to make herself comfortable in her new home. Corinne had left her with fifty dollars in cash and told her to buy some food. Ten dollars at the most would take care of all the food she would need for a couple of weeks. And with the rest... She would buy paper. Rent a typewriter. Maybe pick up a new shirt. She had never in her life had fifty dollars just to spend as she wanted. She hardly knew where to begin.

  She folded the five tens and slid them into the pocket of her slacks. As she adjusted the bulge of bills against her thigh, her fingers touched the piece of paper in her pocket.

  Paul's neat printing stood out starkly against the scrap of napkin. She remembered him standing in the kitchen, offering to help her in any way he could. Probably knowing by her unhappiness that she would be needing help. She realized that she hardly knew the man. And yet...

  He was a friend of Leda's. And he had offered to be her friend too. She could use that help now. If he went with her to see Leda, Michele knew that she would not be tempted to make a fool of herself and abandon her plans. And besides, if she kept in touch with him, he would be able to tell her about Leda in the future. How she was getting along. If...

  Quickly Michele strode out of the apartment and down the two flights to the street. At the corner she dropped into a candy store. She got change for one of the tens and stepped to a phone booth.

  Paul answered on the first ring. His voice sounded vaguely disappointed and Michele realized that he must have been waiting to hear from Jonny. Yet he sounded pleased to hear from her. And of course he would be glad to meet her at five.

  Michele hung up and sat for a moment staring at the phone. Then she stood up and pushed her way outside.

  She had more than three hours to wander around by herself. And nothing, now, that she particularly wanted to do. Her thoughts had already leaped ahead to her meeting with Paul, their interview with Leda. She turned east toward the park, hardly realizing where she walked.

  Michele could not understand what it was about Leda that had turned her into such a jellyfish. All her life, before she became involved with the girl, she had been her own boss. Strong-willed, independent. Oh, she had never done anything that amounted to much, it was true. Still, she had done whatever she wanted to do, without anybody being able to lead her around. And now she hardly knew what she was doing from one moment to the next. She was even afraid to face the girl alone now, knowing that she could never retain her determination if Leda smiled and said, "I love you." It would me so much easier if the girl would deny it. So much easier for both of them.

  She dawdled through the afternoon, thinking about Leda, about all the unhappy things that had happened since Michele openly declared her love. Why had everything gone so wrong for them? Why?

  Maybe it always does, Michele thought. She remembered the pain in Paul's face as he spoke about Jonny. The scenes she had witnessed between Corinne and Toni. Were these people any different from herself and Leda? Perhaps in the realm of twilight love there could never be happiness. For any of them. Perhaps there would always be the jealousy, the fear of losing.

  Yet, even if it were so, Michele knew that she could not return to that other world, to that world in which she had never really belonged. Her life would always be filled with Ledas and Corinnes and Tonis. For only in a woman's arms had she ever known fulfillment and love.

  By the time she climbed into a taxi for the ride uptown, Michele had fretted herself into a raging headache.

  Shafts of pain shot up the back of her neck every time she moved her head. She pressed her fingertips to her throbbing temples and prayed that Corinne would be good to her tonight, when this was all over. She would need all th
e kindness and gentleness she could get.

  She stood out in front of the Automat near Leda's school and watched up the street for Paul. Exactly at five, she caught sight of his pleasant smiling features and tried to smile in return.

  "Hi," he said. "You look like the end of the world."

  Michele snorted. "That would be mild in comparison with what's happened to me," she said.

  "Oh?" Paul said. "Let's get some coffee and you can tell me about it."

  She followed him inside the Automat and found an empty table by the windows while he went for the coffee.

  Paul set a cup at her elbow. "Now," he said, settling himself across from her, "what's the good news?"

  For a moment she hesitated, not quite sure how she ought to phrase it. "Well," she said slowly, "you know Leda and I were having a little trouble."

  Paul nodded. "I got that impression from you."

  "Well, Leda wasn't happy either," Michele said. She sighed. "You know, I don't really understand what happened at all."

  "Why?"

  "Well, Leda and I lived together for a year as roommates and we never had so much as one argument. And then, the minute..." Her voice trailed off and she shrugged.

  Paul laughed. "You think that's so unusual?"

  "It was only a couple of days!" Michele wailed.

  "It makes sense," Paul said. "You expected Leda to become a different person overnight just because you told her you loved her, didn't you?"

  Michele flushed but said nothing.

  Paul nodded. "Most of us make that mistake the first couple of times," he said. "After a while you find out that most people like themselves just the way they are. And they expect the same from the people who claim to love them."

  "Now wait a minute," Michele said, feeling the anger begin to grow inside her. "I do love her. That's why..."

  "That's why you expect her to give up everything and become what you want her to be rather than the person she is." He shook his head slowly. "It won't work, Michele. Even if she did, you wouldn't be happy because she wouldn't be."

  For a moment Michele didn't answer. She had expected sympathy from Paul, understanding. Now she felt that she had made a mistake in calling him. Obviously he didn't know her side of the situation at all. And she didn't feel so positive about it herself that she could cope with his attitude.

  "Maybe you're right," she said finally. "But it doesn't make any difference now. I've already moved out."

  His sandy eyebrows lowered thoughtfully for a moment. Then without answering, he picked up his cup.

  She watched him sipping at the hot coffee. Her head had begun to pound like a sledge hammer was at work behind her eyeballs. What the hell was she doing here with him, anyway? Surely his own relationship with Jonny did very little to recommend him as a creature of wisdom.

  Paul set down the cup and folded his hands on the table. "I'm sorry. I guess there isn't much else I can say, is there? If you're sure you're doing the right thing."

  She nodded. "I love her, but we just can't seem to live with each other. She..." She shrugged impatiently. "I don't want to talk about it. It's all over."

  "And what happens now?"

  Michele glanced away from him to the stream of pedestrians flowing past the window. "Well, Leda still has school and her career," she said quietly. "And me? Well, I've found someone else. I mean..."

  "What do you mean, Michele?" His voice was steady, but the fingers of one hand began drumming lightly on the table top.

  "I'm not living with her," she said. "I have my own apartment. But..." She met his gaze levelly now. "She's paying my rent."

  "My God," Paul breathed. "You mean you're letting yourself be kept?"

  The tone in his voice cut through to Michele's nerves. "What's wrong with that?" she said belligerently.

  Paul shook his head. "I'm just surprised," he said. "I didn't think you'd let yourself get taken in like this. What's going to happen to you, Michele, when your friend gets tired and wants another playmate? It happens, you know."

  Michele could not answer his question. It was one she had not been able to answer for herself. Angrily she picked up the coffee cup for something to do with her hands. But she did not drink. "I didn't come here to discuss my behavior," she said. "I wanted to ask you if you'd help me move my stuff from Leda's place. I don't have much, but it's more than I can carry."

  "Of course I'll help you," he said. "But that's not the point. I can't just sit back and watch you make a fool of yourself. You don't know what it's like, Michele. You're too new at this game, I suppose, to understand. But for you to give up your job and let this woman support you..."

  "I've already quit my job. A couple of days ago."

  "Then get another one," he urged. "Right away. Before you get used to having someone take care of you. You don't want to spend the rest of your life leaping from bed to bed."

  Michele felt her cheeks go hot with anger. Why was he lashing out at her like this? Couldn't he see that she was confused and unhappy enough as it was?

  She pushed back her chair and stood up. "I'm sorry I asked you to meet me," she said between stiff lips. "I thought you were a friend."

  "I am," he said. "Believe me, I am."

  "Then you wouldn't talk to me like this." She turned her back on him and started to walk off.

  "Michele, wait," Paul called after her.

  Michele heard him but did not bother to look around. She pushed her way through to the revolving door and hurried out onto the street.

  She turned in from the street at the entrance of Leda's school and took up a post near the door.

  The clock at the end of the hall said quarter of six. It would be over an hour before Leda showed up. But she did not want to go outside for fear Paul might be looking for her. She could not face him now. Or ever again. She felt unsure enough of herself about this business with Corinne. She certainly didn't need his advice to make her feel worse.

  The minutes dragged finally into an hour. Her throat felt dry and sore from too many cigarettes. Her head pounded. All of her ached and all she wanted out of life was to lie down on something soft and sleep. Forever. If Leda asked her to come along home...

  At five minutes after seven she saw the girl's familiar figure emerge from an elevator and start toward the street.

  Michele stepped out of her corner and directly into Leda's path. "Leda, can I talk to you a minute?"

  Leda stopped abruptly and peered into Michele's face. "I wasn't expecting you so soon," she said.

  "I just want to talk to you," Michele said, taking the girl by the arm and pulling her away from the door.

  "You're moving out," Leda said.

  "Yes," Michele mumbled. "I've got a new place." She hesitated. "I thought I ought to help you with the rent for next month, since I didn't... give you much warning." Her hand moved toward her pocket.

  "Uh uh," Leda said quickly. "I don't need Corinne's money, thank you. I can manage all right for myself."

  "But..."

  "It's all right. I got that part I tried out for." She giggled. "I'll be on stage exactly three minutes and forty seconds a night."

  Michele's tongue felt like a wad of dirty cotton. "That's great," she said. Leda didn't need her for anything now. Not for anything.

  Leda smiled bitterly. "I knew you'd be thrilled."

  Michele gazed at the girl levelly for a moment, trying to determine what Leda was out to do. But she could see nothing on Leda's face but that damned contented smile. She wanted to reach out and choke the girl.

  Instead she glanced away. "I thought I'd better come for my things," she added. "And Boris..."

  "Boris is just fine. And I wish you'd leave him with me." She winked. "After all, you have Corinne to keep you warm."

  Michele backed away from the girl. "All right. If you want him."

  "I want him," Leda said. "That's all I'll have until you come back."

  Michele did not like the look on Leda's face. It accused her of many things an
d none of them were complimentary. "Look," she said, her voice hard and tightly controlled. "I'm leaving for good. I won't be back."

  Leda was silent for a moment, then she shrugged. "Anything you say, darling." Come by for your things any time you want. You have the key."

  A wave of dizziness hit Michele suddenly and she felt that she must be losing her mind. Leda was playing this scene all wrong. Michele hadn't planned it this way at all. Where was the jealous scene, the pleading to come back home? Where were the words that said, "I love you, Michele. You can do no wrong."

  She looked down at the girl and she could find nothing more to say.

  Leda waited for a moment and then, realizing Michele's silence, parted her lips slightly in a smile. "I have to go now," she said. "Or I'll be late for rehearsal." She turned to leave. "Have fun, Michele."

  Michele watched the girl leave her, darting nimbly between passersby, obviously glad to be going wherever she was going, glad to get away.

  Then she stepped to the curb and raised her arm for a cab.

  CHAPTER 17

  By ten o'clock, Michele was thoroughly depressed. She had tried with three bottles of beer to forget her talk with Paul, the few moments with Leda. Yet nothing seemed to touch her. Even the prospect of the hours ahead with Corinne did not relieve the aching loneliness she felt. She would have given up everything for one kind word from Leda.

  Still she had promised Corinne that she would be there at ten. And be there she would. As she pushed herself away from the bar and tried to stand up, Michele knew that she was very, very drunk. The floor seemed to be waving under her feet like an incoming tide. She took a deep breath and started toward the door. Her feet seemed to be working by themselves. She floated across the floor and outside.