The Beebo Brinker Omnibus

by Ann Bannon

  Laura wrote her father that she couldn’t get hold of Charlie. She gave the impression that she had given him up in favor of a clamorous press of beaux. Her father wanted her to be popular.

  Life with Beth, she soon discovered, was busy and unexpected and at the same time relaxed, as if nothing quite mattered enough to worry about. Beth was always occupied but somehow never in a rush. She had a phone installed in the room to accommodate her burden of calls.

  “I just don’t see how you do it,” said Laura one night when the visitor count was high.

  Beth stretched and came down from her stretch laughing. “It’s easy,” she said. “Lots of spare time. No social life. My God, if I had to mess with men I wouldn’t have time for anything. I know when I’m well off.” She laughed again suddenly, her eyes on Emily. “Look at Emmy,” she said. “You don’t believe a word I’m saying, do you?”

  “Not that ‘well off’ stuff,” said Emmy. “Neither do you.”

  “Sure I do. Now and then. My God, I have to. I’d go nuts if I didn’t.” She winked at Laura.

  “Don’t listen to her, Laura,” said Emily in a motherly voice. “She’s depraved.”

  Beth shrugged and got up with a grin. “You see?” she told Laura. “Nobody understands me, not even my best friend.” She threw a pillow at Emily, who promptly threw it back. Beth dropped it elaborately on the floor.

  “You’re slowing up in your old age,” Emily said.

  “Oh, go play your piano!” Beth instantly regretted the remark. She knew why Emily spent most of her free time—and there was very little of it now, since she saw Bud every night—practicing on the old piano in the living room. There was an almost pathetic childish ingenuousness to her plan to capture Bud that made Beth feel sad and helpless. Aside from that, she missed seeing as much of Emily as she used to. Her peculiar schedule usually kept her out with Bud or down in the living room until bedtime. Emily was fun to talk to and gossip with.

  Laura carefully put the pillow back where it belonged and then said good night. Pledge rules forced her to go to bed at eleven, and left the other two to talk as they pleased. The curfew irritated Laura. She was afraid that as soon as she left the room her roommates talked about her. She always felt that it was too early for bed, that she was wide awake, that there was more studying to do. It didn’t occur to her for a long time that she was jealous of Emily.

  Laura was right, in a way. Her roommates did speculate about her. They marveled at her two baths a day. They watched her scrub her face until it was almost raw and red and they noted how she always volunteered for the most dreary and uninteresting tasks in the whole house.

  “Darn the girl,” Emily said after Laura’s polite good-night, “I wish she’d relax. You know, sometimes when you burp nobody hears you. If you say ‘excuse me’ everybody looks up and knows you burped.”

  Beth threw her head back in a strong laugh.

  “Well, that’s the way she makes me feel,” said Emily, grinning ruefully. She thought of Laura’s eagerness to please, her conscientiousness, as a sort of magnified normalcy that made Emmy uncomfortable. “I like the girl, I really do,” she said. “I can’t complain about anything she does, but—I guess that’s just it. I can’t complain. I wish I could. It’d make her seem real, somehow.”

  “I don’t think she understands herself very well yet,” Beth said. “That’s why she’s so careful of everything she says and does. She wants to be sure it’s right.”

  “Here we go again,” said Emily cheerfully. “The old psychology corner.” That meant gossip about a particular female. “What’s her family like?”

  “I don’t know. She won’t talk about them at all. I’m afraid I scare hell out of her when I ask about them.”

  “Well, that’s funny,” Emmy said. “Wonder why?”

  On a Wednesday in late November, just before dinnertime, Laura was called to the house phone. She picked up the receiver without thinking; it was probably someone from her activity committee at the Union, or maybe a man. She had continued going out; it was expected of her. But not with boys like Jim.

  “Hello?” she said.

  “Hello. Is this Laura Landon?” It was a good voice, strong and low and pleasant.

  “Yes.” Laura checked the files of her memory against the voice. It wasn’t listed.

  “This is Charlie Ayers. My father and your father are old friends.”

  Laura was silent, surprised.

  “I just heard from Dad that you were down here. Thought I’d give you a ring.”

  “Oh. Oh yes, Charlie.” She was flustered and awkward on the phone, especially with men.

  Charlie sensed it and took over for her. “Well, look,” he said, “maybe we could get together for a beer or something tonight.”

  She started to protest. It was a reflex action.

  “Oh, come on, you can study any time,” he said pleasantly. “I won’t keep you long.” Laura was struck again by his smooth voice. She paused a moment and he took it for acceptance. “I’ll pick you up around eight,” he said. “Okay?”

  “Well, I—okay.”

  “See you at eight,” he said.

  She hung up wondering if the rest of him was as impressive as his voice.

  Beth was interested. “Charlie Ayers,” she said reflectively. “Isn’t he an ADO?”

  Laura nodded.

  “Seems to me I’ve met him somewhere. Where’d you find him, Laur?”

  “Oh, he—he just called. I met him on campus.” She was amazed at her own fib, only half aware of her motives. They were many and involved and they boiled down to impressing Beth with her own importance.

  At a few minutes past eight her buzz ripped down the quiet halls. She jumped up nervously, pulled her coat on, and opened the door.

  “Laura,” said Beth, watching her with a smile. “You’ll need your scarf. It’s cold.”

  “Oh, yes. Thanks.” She pulled it from the shelf and settled it around her shoulders, and started for the door again.

  “Got your gloves?” Beth asked.

  Embarrassed, Laura turned back to her dresser and pulled them out.

  “How ’bout your purse, honey?” Beth chuckled at her.

  “Oh!” said Laura impatiently, grabbing it and starting out again.

  “Laura,” said Beth in a slow teasing voice. “Aren’t you going to kiss me good-by?”

  Laura whirled and stared wide-eyed at her. Beth grinned. “Go on, honey,” she said. “Have fun.”

  Laura backed out of the room and then turned and almost ran down the hall, her heart pounding, thrumming a thunderstorm inside her. Emily came out of the bathroom one door down and said, “Have a good time, Laur.” Laura watched her retreat down the hall toward Beth with a sudden pang of jealousy so strong that she had to admit it to herself for the first time. Her buzz sounded again, and she had to go downstairs and meet Charlie.

  She gazed anxiously around the front hall as she came down, and finally she saw a young man with dark hair glancing through a magazine, standing with his back to her. The lower she came the higher he seemed to stand from the floor. He wasn’t aware of her until her heels clicked on the marble floor of the hall. Then he turned around, tossed the magazine down, and smiled at her.

  “You must be Laura,” he said, and walked across the room to take her hand. “I’m Charlie Ayers.”

  “Hi,” she said, intimidated by his height and afraid her nervousness would betray itself. His face went very well with his voice.

  Charlie took her arm and said, “Let’s go to Pratt’s.”

  He held the door for her and led her down the front walk to his car—an eight-year-old Ford with a dubious repaint job that left it generally green in tone. “It’s not beautiful, but it runs,” he said, laughing as he let her in. He was so sure, so calm and steady, that Laura began to relax a little. She tried to think of him, not of Beth.

  Pratt’s had a fair number of customers for a Wednesday night when Charlie and Laura walked in. They
found a booth and Charlie helped her out of her coat.

  He leaned over the table while she sat down. “Beer?” he said.

  “Just a Coke, thanks.”

  He went to get it—no such thing as service in a student bistro—and left her to think. She made a powerful effort to avoid Beth and concentrate on Charlie. He was handsome and friendly and he didn’t seem disappointed to find her ordinary-looking. She thought boys who looked like Charlie wanted only beautiful girls. She pictured him with a beautiful girl. She made a cigarette ad of them, a little TV commercial in which Charlie, in a tuxedo, leaned amorously over a white-clothed table to light the beautiful girl’s cigarette, and she inhaled the intoxicating vapors till her strapless gown groaned with the burden of her breasts, and then blew the smoke out at the audience. And then she turned back to Charlie and smiled enchantingly into his wonderful face. They really made an eye-catching couple. When Laura recognized the girl in the picture it shocked her heart into action again. It was Beth.

  Charlie set a Coke and a beer and glasses down on the table, and sat down facing her, interrupting her disturbing reverie. She couldn’t think of anything to say.

  “Well, I guess our fathers have been friends for a long time,” he said.

  “Yes, they certainly have.”

  Laura let him talk, but she didn’t encourage him. She didn’t like to talk about her father. It always made her feel sad and a little frightened, and after a while it tired her out.

  “That’s a fine house you’re in,” he said. “Let’s see, I should know some of your sorority sisters. Baker?”

  “Mary Lou. She’s the president.”

  “Yeah, I remember her. Sort of pretty. Nice gal. Gloria Clark?”

  Laura nodded.

  “Gee, I knew a lovely dish over there a couple of years ago…Beth Cullison. Never see her around any more.”

  “Do you know Beth?” said Laura, uncertain and faintly alarmed.

  “Oh, everybody knows Beth. I’ve met her a couple of times. I don’t think she remembers me, though. This was a few years ago when she was dating a fraternity brother of mine. Pinned to him, in fact.”

  “Who?” she asked. She had to know.

  “Oh, you wouldn’t know him. Graduated last year.”

  “What was he like?”

  Charlie smiled quizzically at her eagerness, without answering her. She began to feel the need to explain herself.

  “Beth’s my roommate,” she said.

  “Oh.” He nodded, smiling. “Well, he was a nice guy. Quite an intelligent boy. They used to have long philosophical discussions. I guess Beth went for that in a big way.”

  Laura didn’t like him, whoever he was. She didn’t like to think that Beth had confided in him, kissed him, even. The thought produced a rash of gooseflesh.

  Charlie ran his hand over the back of his head, the cigarette jutting out and away from his crisp brown hair, and he watched Laura as he did it. “As I say, I don’t really know the girl. Just met her briefly. But I remember her….”

  Laura didn’t answer, and Charlie casually changed the subject. “When’s your father coming down to pay you a visit?” he said.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think he will. He’s too busy,” she answered, but she was thinking about Beth. What did the boy look like? Was he fun, had he been in love with her? Did she like him? Did she let him…

  “Too busy?” said Charlie. “Must be traveling, hm?”

  “No,” she answered absently, “he and my mother are—I mean—they—” She was suddenly staring at Charlie in confusion. It was too late.

  “They what?” he said.

  She looked around helplessly as if some way of escape might suddenly appear, and all of a sudden she felt very weak and lost. Her family was falling apart, and she was falling in love with Beth. The world was inside out, all wrong. She didn’t understand it, she hardly even realized what was happening to her. She couldn’t stop and she didn’t know where she was going. Charlie’s eyes burned her face.

  Laura put her head in her hands and tight silent sobs shook her. He came around the table and sat beside her, putting an arm around her and trying to comfort her. “You know, we’re really old friends, Laura. By proxy, anyway. I’m a great listener. Want to tell me about it?”

  She couldn’t control her tears. At last she said simply, “They’ve gotten a divorce. It’s all over now. It shouldn’t affect me like this. Please don’t tell anybody,” and she looked up at Charlie anxiously.

  “Of course not,” he said. “But just remember I’ve got a dandy shoulder for crying on, any time you’re in the mood.” And he gave her a warming smile. Laura returned it gratefully.

  “Come on, let’s go,” he said.

  At the Alpha Beta front door Charlie said, “I’m not going in with you, Laura.” She looked up in surprise, and he chuckled. “You might feel obliged to kiss me good night. Gets pretty hot and heavy in the front hall at closing time—as I recall.” He was not in the least tempted to kiss her.

  It seemed to Laura a very special favor, one that respected her acute sensitivity, and she didn’t know how to thank him. “Charlie—” she began. “It was very nice of you to take me out and listen to my troubles.”

  “Wasn’t nice of me at all. I enjoyed it,” he said with a smile. In the little silence that followed it struck him that there was only one way to prove that statement and that was to ask her out again. It occurred to Laura too, only to humiliate her. But Charlie saw her as a nice kid in an emotional jam, and because she seemed to need someone to lean on, because of their families, because she looked forlorn, he thought one more evening wouldn’t hurt him. “When can I see you again?”

  Laura was astonished. “Why, I don’t know—” she said.

  “Well, how about a week from Saturday?” he said, figuring only that he hadn’t any other plans.

  “Oh, that would be fine.” She looked at him curiously.

  “Swell. I’ll call you,” he said. And he went off down the front walk.

  She went upstairs to the room, wondering why Charlie Ayers had asked her out for the night of the Varieties show, one of the biggest campus events. Charlie didn’t know he had until two days later when he checked the university calendar, and then he cursed himself. But he didn’t break the date.

  Laura came in the room to find Beth on the phone. She looked up from her conversation and smiled at Laura and after a moment she hung up. She spun around in her chair and said, “Well, is he as good as he looks?”

  “Oh,” Laura blushed. “He’s awfully nice.”

  “Going to see him again?”

  “Yes. For the night of the Varieties.”

  “Well!” Beth smiled at her. “He must be impressed.” Laura didn’t answer. “Finally remembered where I met that guy,” she went on.

  An awful suspense grabbed at Laura’s stomach. “Who?” she said.

  Beth frowned a little. “Your friend. Ayers. Charlie.”

  “Oh. Have you met him?”

  Beth studied her and Laura could feel her amusement without understanding it. “Um-hm,” Beth said. “Real handsome kid, isn’t he?”

  “Yes,” Laura said briefly. She didn’t like the way Beth and Charlie remembered each other at all.

  “Well, I think I’ve got it now—I must have met him at a party somewhere.”

  “A fraternity party?” She was chagrined by her own jealousy.

  “I guess so.” Beth smiled. “Charlie been telling tales?”

  “Of course not!”

  Beth began to laugh softly. “Laura, you must be interested.”

  Laura’s face turned red. “In what?”

  “In Charlie, of course. What else?” Laura couldn’t look at her smile. “I don’t blame you,” Beth went on, needling her subtly. “He’s nice, as I remember. I thought it was a damn waste to give a brain like that to a guy with a face like that.”

  Laura wouldn’t answer her. She wouldn’t even look at her. Beth enjoyed the boyco
tt.

  “He’s too handsome for me,” she said. Laura rummaged defiantly in her closet, her back to Beth. “I like ’em ugly,” Beth said.

  “Oh, you’re just joking,” Laura said pettishly to a wall of wool skirts.

  “No, I’m not. I like ugly faces. I like interesting faces better than pretty faces…. You have an interesting face.”

  Laura turned around then and met Beth’s provocative eyes for an instant and then looked at the floor. “I do?” she said.

  The door opened noisily and Emily burst in, laughing. “Hi, roomies!” she said.

  “Jesus, Emmy!” Beth got up with a grin and walked over to her. “Let me see your face.” It was lipsticked from ear to ear and down her neck to the collar of her blouse. Beth laughed at her. “Laura, our roommate is bombed,” she said.

  Emily studied herself in the mirror. “And it’s indelible,” she wailed.

  “Is she drunk?” Laura whispered to Beth.

  “Sure,” said Beth. “She’s stoned.” She took Emmy’s chin in her hand and surveyed her face. Emmy submitted docilely to the examination, with her eyes shut. “Open your eyes, Em, I’m not going to kiss you,” said Beth. “Bud went home, remember?”

  And Emily got the giggles again. She took a piece of Kleenex and began to rub at the lipstick, which resisted her efforts and sat firm on her face. After a minute she gave up and stared at herself in dismay. Beth pulled open a dresser drawer and handed her a jar of cold cream.

  “Not that you deserve it,” she said. Emmy clung to her and laughed. “Come on,” Beth said in a businesslike voice. She smeared cream over Emmy’s face, rubbing it in carefully. “Every time she goes out with Bud, this is what happens,” Beth told Laura. “She says it’s good for his morale.”

  “Oh, Beth, I do not!” Emily said. “I said it was good for his music.”

  “God, I’ll say it is. When you finish with him, Em, he can play in the key of Q.”

  Laura didn’t like to see girls drunk. She sat on the studio couch and said hesitantly, “Well, it must be sort of exotic to date a musician.”

  “Exotic-exschmotic,” said Emily. “He comes with the same basic equipment as any other man.” Beth laughed, but Laura saw nothing to laugh at. “Only he’s the deluxe model,” Emmy added. She pulled her clothes off vigorously.