The Beebo Brinker Omnibus

by Ann Bannon

  The door was open. Laura went in, feeling her legs start to shake. There didn’t seem to be anyone around. She walked through the apartment: no-one. She slipped her jacket off and went into the kitchen to find something for breakfast. Out on the roof she could hear people laughing, while competing portable radios squeaked from different corners. The population of the apartment building had taken to sunning itself on the roof on fair weekends.

  Laura ate some toast and orange juice, sitting quietly on the kitchen table. She’s out there on the porch. I know she’s out there, she told herself. She was afraid to face her, afraid to go looking for her. She wanted to fall into bed and sleep, but she knew she would never rest until the thing was straightened out.

  Laura emptied her orange juice glass and put it down resolutely on the table. She set her chin and slipped off the table, heading for the door. She bumped flat into Jack as he came in.

  Laura gave a little scream and jumped backwards. “Oh,” she said, shutting her eyes for a minute to let her heart come back to normal. “It’s you.”

  “Say it like you’re glad to see me, Mother,” he said, smiling wistfully.

  “I am,” she exclaimed, coming toward him then and taking his hands. “Oh, Jack, I am. I don’t know what I would have done—”

  “Now you’re embarrassing me,” he said. “They’re out on the roof sunbathing, by the way.”

  “They?”

  “Burr’s here.”

  Laura started for the door, but Jack caught her sleeve. “Are you cracked?” he said. “This isn’t the time. Wait till Burr leaves.” Laura stopped, unsure. “You don’t want to go out there and try to explain it to her now, do you?” Jack said.

  “I just want to get it over with.”

  “It’ll keep. Don’t be pushy.”

  Laura rubbed her forehead. “You’re right,” she said. “I can’t talk to her in front of Burr.” She laughed a little. “I am cracked. People have been telling me that all day.”

  “You don’t have to say much anyway,” Jack said. “I did a smooth patch job. She thinks you’re a little goofy. But harmless.”

  Laura smiled at him in relief. But as they gazed at each other the ghost of Beebo came up in her mind and she was suddenly blushing without Jack’s having said a word. “I—I think I’d better go in and lie down, if you’ll excuse me,” she said, anxious to get away from him.

  “Didn’t get much sleep last night?” he said.

  “Not much.” She looked at the floor, not quite forgiving him for leaving her in the lurch the night before. “You sent me home with her,” she reminded him.

  “I didn’t send you to bed with her. I gave her orders. I told her no monkey business. She promised to behave.” He was still smiling, curious to hear her defend herself.

  Laura wondered quickly whether she could get away with a lie, ashamed as she was of the truth. But she knew her hot cheeks would betray her. They always did.

  “She did behave, Jack.” His eyebrows went up skeptically. “She—what I mean is—it was me.”

  He looked at her sideways. “You mean you just sort of fell into each other’s arms?”

  “Well, sort of.”

  “By mistake? In the dark?”

  “I—I—”

  “You’re fibbing. I know Beebo. Who made who?” He opened the icebox and fished out a beer. “Do I have to say it, or are you going to tell me?”

  “Well, damn it, who are you?” she exclaimed. “You have no right to know anything.”

  “Okay. I’ll get it from Beebo. She says you raped her.”

  “She’s a liar! I heard her say that. Damn!”

  Jack laughed, opening the beer. He sniffed it. “God, what awful stuff,” he remarked. “I only drink it before noon. Cheers.” He drank, and held the can toward her. “Want some?”

  “At this hour?”

  “Your stomach doesn’t know what time it is.”

  “Your stomach, maybe.”

  “Did Beebo jump you, Laura? If she did I’ll break her head.” He asked it suddenly and quietly, and she saw that he meant to help and comfort her. He had to stick a few pins in her, only to pull them out and offer first aid. It was the way he did things.

  “She didn’t—no,” Laura said, turning away. “Jack, don’t make me talk about it.”

  “You could talk to me before.”

  “You turned me down last night,” she said pettishly.

  “I had to. There was someone else last night.”

  “I…oh damn it, Jack, I’m ashamed of myself. It was my fault, I made it so easy. No, that’s a lie. I did it on purpose.” A wave of tears welled through her and subsided, leaving her with her hands over her face. Jack started to speak but she silenced him with a wave of her hand. “It’s been so long, Jack. It’s been hell. I’ve been so lonely. I didn’t know a person could be that lonely and live. And then I moved in with Marcie and it was suddenly torture. All these months I’ve been here. And most of the time I’ve been dying for her. And last night—I was so tired, so mixed up and I had a couple of drinks—”

  “You sounded nuts on the phone.”

  “I felt nuts. I felt awful. She took me home, and she was very decent. She really was. She wanted to, I know that. But she didn’t. She gave me her bed and she went in the living room and slept on the couch. I thought I’d fall right to sleep. But I couldn’t. I just tossed and turned, and every time I heard her turn over I was on fire. It got too strong for me. I finally gave in. I did it. It was my fault, Jack.”

  “Poor Laura.” He said it sympathetically. “Come here, honey.” He put his arms around her and held her, stroking her back. When he did it, she didn’t mind. She’d have resented any other man…except maybe Merrill Landon. But Merrill Landon never showed affection to anyone.

  “I know how it is, believe me,” Jack said. “You’re starving, and somebody puts a feast in front of you. What happens after that is Instinct. Overwhelming. You eat. Or you die of hunger, right there, with all that food in front of you.”

  Laura clung to him, letting herself cry softly and gratefully into his shoulder.

  “Let me give you just one little word of advice, Mother. Don’t starve yourself anymore. Or that hunger is going to kill you.”

  She looked at him with wet eyes. Her face was strangely different, and Jack could see it. A night of love, a night of luxurious satiation, had changed her. For all her fatigue, her shame at herself, her body was happy and relieved. She couldn’t help that. She felt physically good, for the first time in over a year, and she had Beebo to thank for it.

  “You’re different,” Jack said, smiling. “You look good. I don’t care how tired you are. It’s becoming—love.”

  “That wasn’t love.”

  “What was it, then?”

  “Just purely physical. Animal. Vulgar.”

  “Love has a body, Laura. Eyes and lips, legs and sex. We humans can’t help that.”

  “Love is bigger and better than that. There hasn’t been any of that with Marcie and me, but I love her.”

  “That’s idealistic crap.”

  Laura gasped, her eyes widening in sudden anger, but he interrupted her sharp retort before she could make it.

  “Love is no bigger and better than the people who feel it,” he said. “What has your love for Marcie got you? A fat neurosis, a lot of misery, and a night in bed with somebody you hardly know because you couldn’t stand it any longer. If that’s what makes it bigger and better, the hell with it. Feed it to the crocodiles.” And he turned brusquely away.

  Laura stared at him, unable to answer him. It struck her harshly that he might be right. “But I love Marcie,” she whispered hoarsely.

  “Sure. You love her because she looks like Beth, or whatever the hell her name is.”

  Laura was shocked. “No, no, Jack you don’t understand. That has nothing to do with it. I love her.” He turned to look at her, cynicism written plain on his face. “I love her because—”

  “Bec
ause she’s under the same roof with you, two feet away when you go to bed at night. Because she’s young and pretty. Because you can’t have her.”

  “Because I can’t have her!” she exclaimed contemptuously. “That’s exactly why I’m so miserable, you idiot! I love her so much—”

  “We all do. She’s a great girl,” he said, so vaguely and quietly, that it calmed her a little.

  But when Marcie said, “What are you two talking about?” Laura jumped, visibly startled. “Oh, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Marcie said. She had made up her mind to treat Laura gently and carefully. Burr came in noisily behind her. “Hi, Laura,” he said, and stared at her pale face.

  “I didn’t hear you coming,” Laura said nervously. She wondered what Marcie had told Burr, and suddenly it was too much to stand there and face them. “I’m going to bed,” she said suddenly, briefly. “I didn’t sleep much last night.” It came to her then that she didn’t know what she was supposed to have done last night at all. Jack hadn’t told her.

  Jack, faster than Laura when he was on the spot, said, “Laura spent the night with Beebo Brinker. She’s an old friend of mine.” He spoke to Burr, who apparently didn’t know what to think.

  Damn Jack! Laura thought. He didn’t have to say her name. That ridiculous name!

  Chapter Nine

  Marcie tried to be understanding with Laura when they were alone later. She said, “Jack told me all about it, Laura. I understand.”

  What did he tell you? What do you understand? Why didn’t he tell me? She didn’t know how to act with Marcie. Her discomfort made her awkward and for the first time she found herself wishing to be without her for a little while. She didn’t want Marcie to try to comfort her. She just wanted to let it blow over.

  But Marcie was a warm-natured girl, and she was curious. She wanted to sit on Laura’s bed and talk about it. She kept saying, “Tell me about it, Laur. Tell me what happened. Don’t you know I wouldn’t be shocked?”

  At this point Laura revolted. “No, I don’t know!” she said, and was immediately sorry. She raised her hand to her mouth. “Marcie, please. Please drop it.”

  “I’m sorry, Laur. I can’t do anything right tonight.” She looked so disheartened that Laura had to smile at her a little.

  “You do everything right, Marcie,” she said soothingly. “I’m the one who’s wrong. No, it’s true. I’m not like you. I can’t confess to people.”

  “You tell Jack things.”

  Laura was suddenly alert, alarmed. “How do you know?” she demanded. “What things?”

  “Oh, you’re always going off and talking. Like this morning. Why don’t you have long talks with me?”

  Laura sighed, relieved. “I don’t know. Jack is so easy to talk to, Marcie.”

  “Does that mean I’m not? I try to be.” She smiled invitingly.

  Laura, who had been lying on her bed, raised herself up on her elbows. “I never say these things like I mean them,” she apologized. “I only mean, I—” I can’t talk to you because I’m in love with you, that’s what I mean. But that’s not what I can say.

  She rolled over on her stomach and buried her face in the pillow. Marcie sat motionless for a minute, afraid to say anything and start her off again. Then she leaned over her and touched her shoulders. “You don’t have to tell me, Laura, honey,” she said. “I guess I shouldn’t pester you. Jack says you’ve been through a lot and that’s why you’re nervous. I don’t want to make you unhappy, Laura. I’m afraid I do sometimes. I don’t know why, I just get the feeling now and then, when you look at me, that I make you sad. Do I?”

  Laura’s nails cut into her smooth white forehead. “Marcie, don’t torture me,” she said. Her voice was low and strained. It was such an odd thing to say that Marcie withdrew, and climbed into her own bed.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, pulling the covers up and turning out the light. Then she put her hands over face suddenly and sobbed.

  “Oh, Marcie!” Laura was out of bed before she had time to think, sitting next to Marcie and holding her. “Don’t cry, Marcie. Oh God, why can’t I ever say anything right?” She implored the ceiling for an answer. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  Marcie slowed down and stopped almost as suddenly as she began. “I know,” she said. “I know what it is. I used to drive Burr nuts this way, asking questions and talking and talking. And when he wouldn’t answer, I just kept asking more and more till I drove him crazy. I don’t know why. I guess I wanted to drive him crazy. But I don’t know why I do it to you.” She looked away, embarrassed. Laura’s arms tightened involuntarily around her. She had no idea how to answer this unexpected outburst. She was afraid to try to comfort Marcie, for the very act of soothing her brought Laura’s own emotions to a boil. The safest course was to get back in bed at once and forget it. Or at least, stop talking. But Marcie was clinging to her and she couldn’t roughly shake her off.

  “I’ve learned a lot from living with you, Laur,” Marcie said quietly. Laura listened, her nostrils full of the scent of flowers. “This may sound silly to you but—don’t take this wrong, Laura—but I admire you, I really do. You have a quality of self-control that I could never learn. You keep your thoughts to yourself. If you don’t have anything to say, you don’t say anything. If you don’t want to talk, you don’t.”

  She looked up and laughed a little ruefully. “I talk all the time, as if I had to. Just living with you, I’m beginning to see it. I talk all the time and say nothing. You almost never talk, but when you do it’s worth listening to.”

  Laura began to squirm uncomfortably, but Marcie grasped her sleeves and continued. “You know something, Laur? I think I just drove Burr crazy. I talked him to death.”

  “He still loves you, Marcie.” Laura found her hand on Marcie’s hair, without quite knowing how she had let it happen. “He wants you back.”

  “I know. We’ve hardly quarreled at all this week, Laur. You haven’t been around much, you haven’t seen us. But we’ve been getting along unusually well. But the screwy part is, it’s not like I thought it would be.”

  “You mean, you miss the quarrels?”

  “I mean I just wish he wouldn’t come around so much any more. I want time to change. To think.”

  “Think about what?”

  “About me. No, about anything but me. That’s all I ever thought about before. You think about other things. You know what’s going on. You come home at night and you read all these books that are sitting around. You can’t even talk to me about them, because you know how stupid I am.”

  Laura was astonished. All these critical thoughts had gone through Marcie’s head, and Laura hadn’t been aware of it. Marcie had been watching her, admiring her, and she hadn’t known that either. I’m plumb blind, she thought. And I thought I couldn’t know Marcie any better. Because I love her. And she talks like this to me. God!

  “Marcie, you don’t need to read books. It’s just a bad habit for introverts.” Marcie shook her head silently while Laura went on. “Beautiful girls like you don’t need to read,” she said.

  “That’s just it,” Marcie said. “I’m not going to be just another pretty idiot. I want to know something. I’m sick of knowing absolutely nothing. I want to be different. I want you to help me.”

  She wants me, Laura thought happily. She wants me. It was all she heard.

  “When you were gone all night with Jack—” She paused and looked away. “—I started to think. I couldn’t sleep, I don’t know why. I was thinking about you, Laur. I was wondering why you never talk to me, why we have so little to say to each other. We sit at the breakfast table and read the paper and go off without anything more than ‘good morning.’ At night we go to bed and sometimes I talk, but it’s not a conversation. You listen, I guess you listen.”

  “I do!”

  “And I say the wrong things. And you go to pieces, like last night.”

  “No.”

  “Or else you run away. You go sleep
with Jack.”

  “Marcie!”

  “I know you were with Jack again last night. He didn’t have to lie to me about it.”

  “But he didn’t. I wasn’t!”

  “Now don’t you lie to me!”

  Laura stared at her, unable to speak.

  “Help me, Laura,” Marcie said, leaning toward her. “I want to change. I’m sick of myself. I’m sick of Burr.”

  The strangest craziest feeling started up in Laura; just an echo, faraway in herself. She wants me to help her, to be with her. She admires me. Dear God, I’m afraid to wonder how much. A very small smile curved the corners of her mouth.

  “I have to start somewhere,” Marcie said. “I want to talk to you like an intelligent human being, not an ignoramus.”

  Laura smiled at her. Almost without her realizing it, her hand had stolen back to Marcie’s yellow hair. “Do you, Marcie?” she said. It was a simple question, but it asked a thousand others.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh, I’m fed up with myself. I never realized, till I lived day-in-day-out with you, how much I’d been missing. Give me a book to read, Laur.”

  “In the morning.” Laura smiled at her and got up, edging away from her bed.

  “Now.”

  “It’s too late, Marcie. You won’t read anything now.”

  “I want to tell Burr I read a book.”

  “I’ll give you something later,” Laura said. It sounded strangely insinuating, the way she said it. She scared herself. She ducked into her bed as into a safe harbor, and hid her body under the blankets.

  With a sigh Marcie turned the light out. After a moment’s silence she whispered, “Laur? Will you talk to me after this? Really talk to me? Tell me things?”

  “I’ll try,” Laura murmured, frowning in the dark. She lay in bed daydreaming for hours, seeing the first signs in Marcie of an influence she had been unaware of. Where would it lead? What doors would it open? Would it lead them both to bitterness? Or mutual ecstasy?

  In the morning Laura was very matter-of-fact. She almost ignored Marcie. She made her work for her attention and it delighted her that Marcie was willing to work for it. Instinctively Laura knew she had to play hard to get, and she liked to play that way for once.