Chapter VII: Part 7

Laura blew her nose hard. He made her feel ludicrous and she resented it. “Beebo,” she said finally. “Beebo. Oh, Jack.” She looked at him with red eyes. “She _must_ have killed your little dog. The one you gave her after Nix died.”

“_Must_ have?”

“She killed Nix. Nobody beat her up. She did it to herself.”

They stared at each other, Jack beginning to share her feelings.

He heaped his scorn on Beebo. “Damn!” he said. “Damn silly hysterical female. I thought Beebo had more sense than most women.”

“Just because she’s not _like_ most women?” Laura cried. “Jack, you make me furious! The more mannish a woman is, the more sense you think she’s got! God! Beebo’s _sick_! She’s sick or she wouldn’t have done it. When I think what she must have gone through, I—oh....” And she wept again, silently and hard. “She’s no damn silly female. You damn silly _man_!”

“What is she, then?” he asked, smiling a little.

Laura turned back to the bed and muttered, “I don’t know. She’s mixed up and unhappy and maybe she’s still in love with me. She’s miserable because of me, anyway. I know that much.”

“Isn’t that touching,” Jack commented acidly. “You have a desirable woman walloping herself and bisecting dachshunds out of love for you. It must do wonders for your ego.”

Laura didn’t even answer. She just flew at him, nails first, and took a wild swipe at his face. She missed; Jack was fast, and prepared. But she struggled desperately with him with her knees, her elbows, teeth and nails, until she was exhausted. She didn’t last long. Lili had taken the fight out of her.

He laid her back down on the bed when she was gulping for air and went to get her some coffee.

“Now, tell me where you learned about Beebo,” he said when he returned.

After a long, reluctant pause she answered him. Her basic trust in him persuaded her, but she promised herself that if he got sarcastic again she would stop speaking to him. Permanently.

“I saw Lili this afternoon,” she whispered.

He gave a snort. “For old times’ sake?” he asked.

“To ask about Beebo,” she said haughtily.

“And she told you that romantic little tale? About carving up Nix?”

“Yes.”

“And you believed her?”

“Yes. She wasn’t kidding.”

“Oh, she never does,” he said with false agreement.

Laura flipped over to face him, her face red, but he interrupted her before she could get a word out. “Okay, she told the truth, we’ll say.” He moved her coffee gently toward her as he spoke. “And if she did it’s pretty awful and it’s pretty sad. And I wish like hell that it hadn’t happened to Beebo, because she’s a damn nice kid and I always liked her. I’m sorry about it, Laura—”

“Sorry!” she exploded. “What a stinking little word that is for what she must have gone through!”

“What’s in a word, honey?” Jack shrugged, frowning. “You want a eulogy? I’m sorry, if Beebo really did it. That’s not fancy but it’s true. I can’t put Nix back together. I can’t order you to love Beebo the way she loves you.”

There was a long silence then while Laura considered what he said. Her feelings for Beebo seemed to have undergone a transformation that afternoon. It was as if she saw clearly, and for the first time, into Beebo’s secret heart, into her pain and frustration and passion. And Laura’s own heart melted, touched, awed, a little exalted even to think that she could have inspired such a wonderful, terrible, mad, single-minded love in anybody. All of a sudden it seemed very valuable to her. She wanted it back, just the way it had been. She would know how to respect it now.

She lay there looking at Jack and felt a small fear licking at her heart like a flame. What if her love for Beebo became more precious to her than her love for Jack?

She said pensively, “I felt so bad about everything. I’ve been so selfish.”

“Not with me, honey.”

There was a long pause. At last she said, “You mean—going to the doctor, and everything?”

“That’s only part of it.” He got up and went to her.

Laura was standing in her bare feet, leaning against a wall and looking out at the East River. Her eyes were fastened on the night lights of the city. Jack touched her shoulder.

“Laura, darling, I’ve loved you for a long time ... ever since we met, I think. I’ve never loved you less than I did at the start. And now I love you much much more. Just the fact that you were willing to try for a child means the whole world to me. Even if it never works out. I can’t love you with my body. You wouldn’t want it even if I could. But I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone as much as you, honey. Not even the lovely boys I could never resist. Not even Terry, and there never was a lovelier one. When all the sweat and passion are over with there’s nothing but ashes and melancholy. Nothing’s deader than a gay love that’s burned out. But with you ... I don’t know, it just goes on and on. It’s steady and comforting. It won’t fail me, no matter what. It gives me a little faith—not much, but a little—in myself. In people. In you.”

Laura turned her head away so he wouldn’t see the tears.

“Laura, you can say what you please but you’ll never convince me that I did a cowardly thing marrying you. A selfish thing, yes. A hell of a selfish thing. I think I would have gone to pieces without you. But I wasn’t running away from my old life as much as I was running to a new one.”

Suddenly Laura felt a big ugly need to fight. Maybe it was just to let off steam after a nerve-wracking afternoon. Maybe it was to make her forget how guilty she felt about Beebo. Probably it was both.

Laura turned and walked away from him, feeling his hand slip from her shoulder, unwanted and unsure. “Well, I don’t know why _you_ left the Village but I think I know why _I_ did. Finally,” she said. Her voice was hard and she knew she was going to hurt him and she cringed from it almost as much as he did. And still she spoke, compulsively. “I left because it was the only way I could see out of my problems. You were my escape hatch, Jack. You were just too damn convenient.”

“That’s my charm,” he said harshly. “Ask Terry.”

“It isn’t the first time I’ve run away from my problems. I ran away from Beth in college. I ran away from my father. From Marcie—remember her? She was straight. I didn’t find out till I tried to make love to her.”

“I remember. You ran straight to me. And if you hadn’t you’d be enjoying a protracted vacation in a mental institution at this moment.”

“You helped, I admit it. I don’t know what I would have done. But that’s not the point. The point is, that here I am doing it again. Running away. Not _to_ you this time, but _with_ you.”

“So?” he said. “So we run away. So what the hell? Let’s run. Who gives a damn? What’s _eating_ you, Laura?”

“It’s wrong, that’s what! You told me when we left the Village I’d get over it and Beebo didn’t matter ... she’d survive. And I believed you. Until today.”

“And now you think she won’t survive?” he asked bitingly. “Because of something she did ten months ago while you were still living with her?”

Laura was swallowed up for a moment in a sob. “I want her!” she gasped finally. “Oh, God and Heaven, I want her!” And she stamped her foot like a furious child.

When she was quiet enough so he could talk without shouting, Jack said, “Sure. I want Terry. But we’re poison together. So are you and Beebo. If you go to her you’ll come running back to Uncle Jack before the month is out. Fed up all over again. Only this time there’ll be a difference. This time Beebo really will commit mayhem. Or murder. Or both. And if you don’t run fast enough, Mother, it may be you she murders. I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“I want her back!” Laura amazed herself with her own words, words she never meant to say. Jack stared at her, his face pale and determined.

“You can’t have her.”

“Jack,” she said, suddenly pleading, “let me go to her. Just for a week or two. Please. Please let me.” She walked toward him as she spoke, her arms extended.

“No,” he said flatly. “Two weeks, hell.” He was afraid she wouldn’t ever come back.

“Jack, I wouldn’t stay. I’d come back to you.”

“No!” It was absolute. He couldn’t take the chance. “We’ve had all this out. We agreed to it before we got married.”

“Jack, darling—”

“I won’t talk about it, Laura. You can’t go back to her and that’s final.”

“But only for a week or two, just a few days....”

“You’re my wife,” he blazed so fiercely that she stopped in her tracks, startled. “You’re my wife and you’re not going to live with any Lesbian in any Village! Not while I live!”

She tried once more. “Jack, don’t you understand? For the first time I’m beginning to realize how I feel about her, how I always felt. Tris made me realize it a little. And now Lili. And even living with you—”

“Living with me has made you lonesome for women, that’s all. And Beebo’s a handy woman. Goddam it, Laura, I never denied you women. I’ve encouraged you. Admit it, go on! I’ve _asked_ you to chase a few broads. It’s not my fault if you’ve developed an itch. Go out and have yourself a fling; you should have done it long ago. I don’t give a damn, only don’t go to Beebo. And come back. Come back here, you understand? If you don’t I’ll come after you! And I’m capable of mayhem myself!”

She looked at his big burning eyes and trembled. “I just want to see her,” she whispered.

“What makes you think she wants to see _you_?” he demanded. “What makes you think she won’t greet you at the door with the same knife she used on Nix?”

“That’s what Lili said.”

“Well, for once Lili is right. I know Beebo; she’s crazy. You catch her on a wrong day in a wrong mood and she won’t even think about it. She’ll just operate on you as she did on the dogs.” He gazed unblinking at her. “That would kill me, Laura, as sure as it would you. Besides, I can’t take any chances. You might be carrying my child.”

This struck fury into Laura. She had nearly managed to forget the child, in the press of other things, but no longer. She picked up a pair of his shoes, sprawled near the closet, and flung them at him, one after the other. One flew through the window, splattering glass in its wake, and the other struck his arm.

“Why do you torment me?” she shouted. “Why do you talk about nothing but baby, baby, baby? I never wanted the damn thing! I hope I never have a baby! I hope I never have _your_ baby! I hope it’s born a boy! I hope it’s born blind! I hope it’s never born at all!” She was screaming at him, and he came to her carefully, coaxing her.

“You’re all wrought up, Mother,” he said. He could see that she was hysterical.

“Don’t call me Mother!” she shrieked, her voice strained so that she could hardly articulate.

“Laura, for God’s sake,” he said, trying to brush it off, trying to keep calm, help her. “I call you ‘Mother’ in honor of my Oedipus complex. Purely a formality. It has nothing to do with babies. Come lie down, honey. Come on. I’ll get you something to quiet you down. Come on,” he wheedled gently, but she looked at him like he meant to murder her then and there, backing away from him. When he made a quick move to grab her, she sprang away, picking up the stool to her dressing table. She threw it at him with all her strength. While he dodged she grabbed her shoes and coat and ran from the room.

At the front door she paused briefly to stare at him with desperate eyes and then she heaved an ashtray at him and fled. It cut his hand, which he threw up to protect his face.

Laura ran down the stairs. There was no time to wait for the elevator. She could hear Jack behind her, running and calling her name. At the front door she turned swiftly toward the river and climbed a chain link fence, ripping the flesh here and there along her limbs and tearing her blouse. She dropped, torn and gasping, to the other side just as Jack burst from the door and looked wildly in all directions for her. She rolled soundlessly some feet down the long slope that ended in chill black water.

There she waited, sobbing quietly, clinging to handfuls of greasy mud and roots and embedded rocks. She heard his footsteps going toward First Avenue. He thought she would run for a taxi or hide in a doorway. Laura scrambled and stumbled south along the embankment, not waiting for him to come back looking for her. There was a suffocating panic in her. She didn’t question it or wonder where it came from. She just did as it bid her, struggling through the dirt on the incline.

There was no looking back, no stopping for rest. She moved forward doggedly, tripping and sinking to her knees and clambering up again and going on, trying to stay near the fence in case she lost her footing. The going was slippery and rough and her breath rasped in and out with a fast whining sound. She had gone nearly three blocks when a jutting stone, invisible in the semi-dark, threw her, and she felt herself begin to skid and roll. She made a wild grab for the fence but it was already fifteen feet above her and receding fast. The wind was bumped out of her and she could not even scream. She had no idea how far she had fallen before she stopped.

Laura lay gasping and moaning for a few minutes, trying to get her breath back. She knew she was crying but she made no effort to stop. She moved herself gently to see if anything was broken, but the ground was not hard and she had missed the bad stones. She had no idea how long she had been there. It might have been minutes, it might have been hours. She thought vaguely it must have been hours when she finally stirred, chilled through, and opened her eyes. Beside her, on the ground, sat a man.

Laura screamed, a weak shuddering noise, and fell back, covering her face with her hands.

“Don’t mind me,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.”

Laura felt herself trembling with fear. She tried to pull her torn clothes straight, but it was so dark she could hardly see what she was doing. When he turned his face toward her she could see a little of it. It was very indeterminate; there was no way to guess his age or anything about him.

She stood up quickly and started to scramble up the hill, but he said, “There’s an easier way.”

She gave him one quick scared glance and then went on, but he stood up and said, “There’s steps about a half block on.”

Again she turned, very wary but willing to listen now. It looked a million miles to the top.

“I’ll show you,” he offered. His voice was not menacing and he stood facing her with his hands in his back pockets, a black statue with silver edges. “Come on, I’ll walk ahead.”

He turned then and went southward, agile and sure. After a moment Laura began to follow him, moving clumsily and with great effort, trying to copy his movements and praying that he wouldn’t suddenly attack her. She stooped and grabbed a sharp stone glinting at her feet and held it tight in a sweating hand, just in case.

He heard her panting behind him and stopped, bringing Laura up sharp with a gasp. “You’re tired,” he said. “Want to sit down a minute?”

She shook her head at him.

“You can talk to me, I’m no devil,” he said. And she had the idea he was grinning at her. But when she maintained her tense silence he shrugged and turned back. Now and then he glanced at her to see how she was doing. “Want some help?” he asked when she stumbled once, leaning toward her, but she drew back fast and he said, “Okay. Just trying to help.”

They walked for a few moments and Laura was almost ready to bolt from him when she realized that the lights ahead she had taken for far distant were in reality small bulbs strung up to illuminate a row of steps.

“Maybe you’re wondering who I am,” he said almost hopefully as they neared the steps, as if he had a story to tell and was looking for a listener.

He turned, one hand on the iron rail that ran alongside the steps, and held out a hand to her. “Here y’are. Help you?”

She ignored him, turning her back to him to swing a leg over the low railing.

“Don’t you wonder who I am?” he said. “I don’t help just anybody, little girl.” He spoke sharply. “Don’t you want to know my name?”

“No!” she cried suddenly, angrily, startling herself. “You’re just a man and all men are alike. No matter what their names are!” He gaped at her, astonished. “You don’t really care about me, only about yourself. You don’t want to know _my_ name, you only want me to know _yours_.” She spoke breathlessly at breakneck speed. “You can’t suffer like a woman can. You aren’t made to take it, you men. You’re just made big enough and brute enough to hurt us. But we can’t hurt you. We can’t hurt you, do you hear?” And she stopped abruptly, putting her hand over her mouth in a storm of self-pity and shame and revulsion. It was Jack she was screaming at, not this stranger. She couldn’t believe she had hurt Jack as she had hurt Beebo or it would destroy her. She screamed to make herself believe she couldn’t really hurt him, no matter what she did.

The tears burst from her eyes when she saw it all for a lie. A lie shouted to spare her own tortured feelings. The man looked at her, patient now and unamazed. He was over his first surprise. And hers was not the first desperate speech he had heard on the shores of the East River.

Laura began to run up the steps.

“You won’t get far, looking like that,” he called after her.

Momentarily Laura stopped and looked at herself in dismay. She turned and glanced back at her guide. He was standing on the steps some twenty feet below her, smiling at her consternation. He was a large man, big-boned, and she thought, _My God, he could break me in two. Like my father._

“Cat got your tongue?” he said.

She started up again on shaky legs and he called, “Is that all the thanks I get?”

At this Laura began to run, but to her alarm he ran after her. She felt her heart balloon in her chest, beating frantically, and when he caught her, only a few steps from the top, she yelled in fear. She would have screamed without stopping until somebody heard her if he had not wrapped a big hand around her mouth and forced her against the gate.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said. “I told you that. I never hurt anyone. I’m harmless.” He grinned, and Laura, squirming under his big hand, was dizzy with panic.

He held her quietly for a few minutes as if to assure her that he spoke in good faith. Finally he asked her, “Where are you going?” and released her mouth. When she tried to holler at once he covered it again.

“I’ll ask you again,” he said. “But don’t yell. Where are you going?”

When he freed her mouth this time she murmured, “Home. I’m going home. Let me go.”

“How you getting home?”

“I—I’ll walk. It’s not far. Just a block.”

“You know what block this is?” He smiled with superior knowledge.

“It can’t be far,” she said.

He shook his head quizzically. “I don’t get it. You’re not even drunk. You’re tore up but you’re no tramp neither. Mostly the ones I find down here are hitting the bottle. Or they wouldn’t be down here. Or kids, exploring. Not pretty girls.” He smiled and Laura’s one intense hope was that she not faint and fall into his clutches.

“Let me go,” she said, trying to sound controlled. But her big eyes and urgent breathing gave her away.

“Okay.” He took his hands away from her altogether, and said, “Go. But I’ll bet you need a dime to telephone with.”

She turned, dragging on the gate behind her until he said, “Here. Let me.” He opened it for her. And when she saw that he was really going to let her go, she allowed herself to turn and look at him. See him. He was holding out a dime.

“Take it,” he said. “At least you can call somebody to come get you.”

Laura stared at him. He was big and ugly, seamy-faced, and wearing dirty clothes with a worn cap tilted over his ear. But he had a nice honest grin. And he looked, for all his dirt and size, rather childish. Laura stood poised at the gate, wavering between flight and the dime. At last she took it, her face reddening. She had to drop her sharp stone to get it.

“Didn’t need that, didya?” he said with a smile, watching it fall.

She shook her head and whispered, “Thanks.”

“That’s all I want to hear,” he said and let her go. She ran halfway down the block, and then turned, overwhelmed with curiosity, to see what had happened to him. He was standing there behind the closed gate gazing after her, smiling. _He’s nuts_, she thought. _An idiot. A damn man! That’s probably all he does, save people from the river. But even that ... even that pitiful life is worth more than mine. All I’ve ever done is hurt the people I love the most._

At the end of the block she stopped running and looked once more. He was gone.

10

Laura hid herself for a minute in a shadowed doorway and tried to make sense of things. She was a mess, with mud on her torn clothes and on her face, tangled hair and dried blood.

She made an effort to smooth her hair down. There was some Kleenex in her pocket and she wiped her face off carefully, reaching every corner of it and rubbing till the skin turned pink. She brushed at her disheveled clothes rather hopelessly. Maybe it was late enough so nobody would notice her.

She began to walk, holding her arms together in front of her as if to keep herself warm, but in fact to keep the worst rips from showing. And she kept her head down. _If only the police don’t stop me_, she thought. _I must look like a whore._

Laura walked straight west on Forty-first Street, for it was Forty-first, past Lexington Avenue and Park and Fifth and Broadway and over to Seventh. No cops stopped her, although more than one passerby stared.

It was cold, a raw March night with the sting of coming storm in the air. Laura went south on Seventh Avenue, walking almost mechanically. When she thought of it she realized it was cold. But she hardly thought of it. There was too much else on her mind.

She was very surprised to reach Fourth Street so quickly. She had known, without thinking, that that was where she was going. In less than five minutes she had entered the little court in front of Beebo’s apartment building and the old familiar trembling had begun.

She sat down on a bench in the court to gather her strength. At last she looked up the wall of dark windows behind her, twisting on the bench to see, and saw lights in Beebo’s living room, and began to shiver.

Ten or a dozen times she looked up anxiously at the lights on the second floor. They were faint, as if only one small light were on. With a sudden rush of desire that eliminated the need to make a decision, she pulled open the inside door and raced up the stairs.

At the top she stood trying desperately to get her breath. But she knew after a moment that her whole body would shake and sweat and wear itself out with unbearable anticipation if she didn’t get the door open. She reached for the knob, but it was locked.

She rattled the knob hard and then she knocked.

When the door swung open a moment later she gasped in amazement. It was Milo Robinson—Tris’s husband.

“Milo!” she exclaimed.

He stared at her.

“Don’t you remember me? I’m Laura. Laura Landon.”

“I remember,” he said quietly. “I just never saw you fresh out of the gutter before.”

She looked down at herself and her cheeks went scarlet. “I look awful, don’t I?”

“Somebody after you?” Milo asked.

“Yes. No. I don’t know. Can I come in?”

“I guess you can,” he said, stepping back. “You’ve got as much right to be here as me, that’s for sure.”

Laura walked into the living room and just the sight of it, warm and comfortable and a little raggy, made her want to weep. She sank down on the couch, exhausted.

“Want some coffee?” Milo said, staring at her.

“No, thanks. I’ve had too much tonight.”

“Milk?”

“I guess so. Thanks.”

“You look real bad, Laura. You’d better get to bed,” he said frowning at her.

“Where’s Beebo?”

“Tell me that and I’ll tell you where my wife is,” he said sharply.

“You coming back to Beebo?” he asked her.

“If she’ll have me.”

“From what I know of it, she won’t. But I’m on your side, Laura. I’d do anything to pry Patsy loose.”

It startled her to hear him call Tris by her real name. “Is Beebo in love with her?” she asked cautiously.

“Naw,” he said with leisurely disgust. “She puts up with her but she’s not in love with her.” He ambled out to the kitchen to pour her some milk. “I should be so lucky,” he called. “I’d dump her. Right now.”

“How about Tris? How does she feel?”

He answered her while he poured the milk. “I don’t know, Laura. I never could figure that kid. Living with her only makes it more confusing.” He sounded very tired, like a man defeated. “I wish I could forget her, forget the whole thing.”

He came back and handed her the milk and sat down in a chair near her.

They looked at each other. He was a tall young man in his early twenties, handsome and well educated. His skin was dark and satiny in the pink lamplight.

“Does she love you?” Laura asked gently.

He shrugged and gave a little laugh. “Who knows?” he said. “She says so now and then. But that’s only when I lay down the law on the Lessie stuff.”

“What’s the law?” Laura said.

“Well, goddam it, enough’s enough!” he exclaimed. “I like to see her once in a while myself. She’s my wife.”

Laura thought of Jack and felt the tears start quietly down again. “Excuse me,” she sniffled. “I’m running like a sieve tonight. I don’t know why. Did Jack Mann come over here tonight?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Milo said. “I’ve only been here since midnight.”

“Did he call?”

“Nobody called.”

“Nobody?” She had been so certain Jack would follow her here. “When does Beebo get in?”

“You tell me, then we’ll both know.” He sighed.

“What will you do with Tris, Milo?” She spoke softly, sympathetically, in a raspy tired voice.

“Take her home again.”

“Do you understand her? What makes her so contrary?”

“No.” He turned and gave her a doleful grin, lighting another cigarette from the first. “We’ve been married almost two years but I don’t know her at all, to tell the truth. But I sure won’t let her go.”

“Does she want you to?”

“I don’t think she does,” he said. “Sound screwy? Well, not so very. She needs me. Because I’m a man.” There was a pause and Laura mopped up the useless tears and tried to think of Milo’s troubles, not her own.

“How long are you going to stay?” she asked him finally.

“I guess till they get back,” he said.

“Are you sure they’re together?”

“More or less. Patsy has a big thing on her.”

“Milo? Would you stay here till they get back, then? I’m afraid—I’m afraid of Beebo. She might hurt me.”

He looked at her thoughtfully. “Yeah. Okay,” he said, studying her. “Say, haven’t you been gone a while? Patsy doesn’t tell me much, but I got the idea.... I haven’t seen you around or anything.”

“Yes. I’ve been gone awhile,” she said, getting up. “I’m going to take a shower and get cleaned up. Don’t tell her I’m here if she comes.”

“Patsy?”

“Beebo! Either of them.”

“Who shall I say is in the shower?”

“Santa Claus,” she said. She looked at him sitting glumly slumped in the chair. “Why do you put up with it?” she said. “She’s too much. Tris is too much for anybody.”

“Don’t call her Tris. She’s been Patsy ever since she was six years old and skinned her knees in front of my house. Tris. Christ! It’s too affected.”

“Did she ... ever really love me, Milo?” Laura asked it with a catch in her throat.

“Did she ever love any of us? I don’t know.”

“Why do you keep coming back for more?”

He shrugged. “Same reason you do. You love Beebo. You know it’s a mess and you’re in for a lot of hell. It’ll never be right. But you love her. So you take it.” He gave another sad little chuckle. “I wish I knew what it is about you girls. What makes you love each other?” Laura stared at him. “If I knew there’s one thing sure—I’d put a stop to it. What makes you queer, Laura? You tell me.”

“What makes you normal, Milo?”

“I was born that way. Don’t tell me you were _born_ queer! Ha!” And he was sarcastic now.

“I was made that way,” she said calmly.

“By who?” he asked skeptically.

“A lot of people. My father. A girl named Beth. Myself. Fate.”

He snorted. “Why don’t you give up women?”

“Why don’t _you_!” she flashed.

He blinked at her, beginning to feel her stormy intensity.

“Is it _that_ bad?” he asked.

“_Sure_, it’s that bad! Do you think I live this way because I like it? Would you live like you do if you could live like a white man?”

After a moment he shook his head, looking curiously at her.

“Neither would Tris. _Patsy._ So don’t be too hard on her, Milo. You damn men, you’re all lousy selfish bastards.”

And to his astonishment, she threw the dirty dime at him.

Laura was pulling on a pair of Beebo’s big men’s flannel pajamas when she heard the front door open, and her heart came to a sudden stop in her breast. It started again with a wild thump, and she stood with an ear to the door struggling to pull the roomy tops over her damp body and hear what was said.

“Where is she?” Milo demanded.

The front door shut and there was a pause. Laura heard the scrape of a match and the soft whistle of expelled breath.

“I sent her home,” Beebo said. And her voice sent a sharp thrill of desire and recognition through Laura. She pressed her hands firmly over her breasts till the flesh nearly burst between her fingers, as if to still her own hard breathing.

“Where, the studio?” Milo said.

“Yeah. You entertaining, Milo?”

“What?”

“Who’s the milk drinker?”

And Laura remembered suddenly the milk Milo had fixed her. She hadn’t finished it; just left it sitting on the table.

“Santa Claus,” Milo said.

“No kidding,” Beebo said with a grin. “I used to leave Santa Claus a glass of milk. And cookies. When I was a little kid. But that was Christmas Eve. This isn’t Christmas Eve, Milo.”

“Check the shower,” Milo said. “I didn’t ask her over. You sure Patsy’s home?”

“Hell, no,” Beebo said and she was right by the bedroom door. Laura leaped backwards across the room, stumbling and catching herself on the bed. She straightened up, her heart in her throat, watching the door. Her long blond hair was still damp from the shower, and she had on only the long, striped tops of Beebo’s pajamas. They reached to mid-thigh on her.

Beebo’s hand twisted the knob. “Go home, friend,” she said to Milo, pausing. “Your wife needs a man tonight.”

Milo shrugged at her. “She asked me to stay.”

“_Who_ asked you to stay?”

He thumbed at the bedroom. “Says you might hurt her.”

Beebo stared hard at him for only a second more before she threw the door open hard. It cracked like a shot against the wall and Laura opened her eyes slowly. Her arms were crossed at the wrists and clamped tight over her breasts, as if to ward off attack. She looked at Beebo and Beebo looked at her without a word for several amazed minutes. Laura felt such a flash of agonized desire for this big, handsome, passionate girl who had been her lover that she was unable to speak.

Finally Beebo walked slowly into the room, her hands shoved into the pockets of her pants, squinting through the smoke of the cigarette between her lips. “I thought Lili was kidding,” she said softly. “Seeing things.” And she gave a single short laugh. She walked to the bed and dropped her coat. “Relax, Laura, I’m not going to rape you,” she said. She turned, with her weight on one foot and the other on the bed rung, and called to Milo, “You can go now, Sir Galahad.”

“It’s all right?” He came to the door and looked at Laura, who finally found the strength to nod at him. “Okay,” he said. He looked her up and down, surprised to find how desirable she looked with a clean skin and no rags. “Lotsa luck, girls,” he said with his rueful defeated smile, and he went out.

“Thank you, Milo,” Laura called after him, but her voice was so low and husky with emotion that he did not hear her.

There followed a long strange silence while Beebo stared at her. Laura kept her eyes on her toes, afraid to meet that penetrating gaze.

At last Beebo crushed her cigarette and lay down on the bed, crossing her feet and stuffing her hands behind the pillow to raise her head.

“All right, Laura,” she said calmly. “You’re here. Tell me what you want.”

Laura looked up then, slowly, still very afraid. She was prepared for any violence, any brutality. It no longer mattered if Beebo hurt her or not. She was ready to submit to anything if Beebo would only take her back.

“What do you want?” Beebo said.

“To stay,” she whispered.

Beebo’s eyes widened with surprise. “To stay? With me?” She looked away then at the wall. “You could have stayed last August.”

“Last August I was miserably unhappy because of you. I had to get away. I found out I’m more unhappy without you than with you.”

Beebo laughed outright then. “Doesn’t give you much of a choice, does it?” she said and her voice was not kind. Her laughter made Laura realize that she was a little drunk. Laura walked over to the side of the bed and knelt beside it, with her heart working as if it had taken her up a stiff hill.

Beebo turned her head to watch her. “What’s that for?” she said, catching a corner of her pajamas between thumb and forefinger. Her flesh was only inches away from Laura’s for the first time in eight long months and there was a sudden current of feeling between them that leaped like a spark from Beebo’s hand to Laura’s breasts.

“I had to change. My clothes were filthy. I took a shower and borrowed your pajamas.... I’ve been walking all night. All the way from midtown.”

“What the hell did you do that for? Don’t they still have taxis in this town?” She was cold. Her hand dropped away from Laura.

“I didn’t have any money. And I had to see you.”

“Why?”

Laura put her head down on the bed on her clasped hands and began to cry. “I love you,” she wept. And it was the first time since they had met that Beebo had heard her say it that way.

She got up on one elbow and leaned toward Laura. Her face was impassive, but shrewd. “Not Tris?” she said.

“Not Tris.”

“Anybody else?”

“Nobody else.” Laura lifted her tearful face. “Oh, Beebo, I’ve done you so wrong, darling. I didn’t know how bad it was. Lili told me—”

“I know she did, the miserable bitch. God damn her soul. The only secret she can keep is her age.”

“Beebo, I’ll do anything for you—anything—if you’ll have me back. Oh, darling, it took me months to figure out what was wrong with me. I’ve been so confused. And lately I’ve been thinking of you all the time. I don’t think I ever stopped loving you, Beebo. I thought when you saw me here you’d beat the hell out of me. If you want to ... do it ... if it’ll help.” She looked at her out of large frightened eyes, half expecting Beebo to jump her.

But Beebo sat up then, grasping her ankles with her hands. “No, Laura, it’s too late for that. What good would that do?” She made a face, frowning. “There was a time when I would have. If you had come back last fall instead of now. I would have loved you enough then to hate you. But I’ve changed, Laura.... It doesn’t seem to matter so much any more.”

There was a shocked silence from Laura. “You mean,” she ventured finally, “you don’t love me any more? Oh, Beebo! Oh, Beebo! No!” She covered her mouth with both hands, pressed so tight they turned white.

Beebo looked at her curiously. “I love you, Laura,” she said, but it was impersonal, detached, as if it were just another fact in her life like her job or her black hair. “I’ll always love you. But I’ll never love you again the way I did before you ran out on me last summer. That was too much. When it happened it was a question of either dying of it ... or living with something else, changing myself. Becoming a different person. That’s what happened.”

Laura, in her desperation, found the courage to touch Beebo then. She reached out for her, and Beebo unexpectedly turned to help her. She dragged Laura up on the bed with her two strong arms, and Laura gave a long groan of need and fear and gratitude, all mixed up together. Beebo held her in both arms, her back pressed against the wall, watching Laura struggle to control her tears and trembling. She was kind, she was patient. And it scared Laura, who suddenly discovered that she missed the old stormy fury and passion. Beebo seemed odd to her, and it was true that she had changed.

“Laura,” she said. “I’ve been doing some thinking. I want to tell you something. Maybe you won’t want to come back to me so much any more.”

“Let me tell you something first,” Laura begged. “If I don’t tell you, Beebo, I haven’t any right to touch you. I haven’t any right to be here. Maybe I don’t anyway. Darling, I—I’m married.” Beebo gasped a little, and Laura said quickly, “To Jack.”

Beebo simply gaped at her for a second and then she burst out laughing. “Good God! _That’s_ what happened!” she exclaimed. “You and Jack. Oh, God!”

“It wasn’t exactly—ridiculous,” Laura whispered, hurt. “We loved each other.” But Beebo went on laughing.

“I’m sorry, baby, but it sounds so damn—goofy,” she said.

And when she called her baby, Laura felt a small glow of warmth and hope. Maybe it wasn’t hopeless; maybe things could work out. She clung to Beebo and found herself half laughing with her, and half weeping to hear Jack’s name.

“Where is he now? Does he know you’re here?” Beebo asked her.

“He knows,” Laura said, for there could be no doubt that he did.

“Did he send you? Married life got him down?”

“No, I ran away. I—I hurt him. It meant so much to him to have a wife and all....” She couldn’t say any more about it; it broke her up to think of it.

Beebo sobered a little. “You have a talent for that, Laura—hurting people. Sometimes I think that’s your only real ability.”

“I know,” Laura murmured, shame-faced. “And the trouble is, I never want to. I never mean to. I’d give anything to undo it, once it’s done. But I begin to feel like I’m smothering. Like I’d die of it if I can’t get away.”

“Is that the way _I_ made you feel?” Beebo said.

Laura hung her head. “Yes,” she whispered. “I won’t lie about it.”

“You can’t very well. I read the damn diary—every word of it.”

Laura flushed at the thought of the thing. “Beebo, I—I didn’t understand before how you felt. Or how I felt myself. But I know now I love you.” She said it quivering with hope.

But Beebo only answered, “Do you, Laura? How do you know?” There was a little smile on Beebo’s face. She asked the question gently as if she were talking to a bewildered child, brushing Laura’s hair from her forehead.

“Because I want so terribly to be with you,” Laura said, shaking her head to emphasize her words. “I can’t bear it like this, being apart from you.”

“I’ve changed so much,” Beebo said, wondering at it, “and you haven’t changed at all. Have you? I think you’re just tired of being a wife, honey.”

“No. I love Jack. But it’s different. I don’t _need_ him like I need you.”

“How about Jack? Doesn’t he need you?”

Laura covered her face again with her hands to stifle the sudden sobs. “A lot, I’m afraid. I’d be better off dead, Beebo, I swear I would. I’ve caused so much heart ache. And most of all to myself. I’m no good to anybody. I wish to God you’d get that big knife and do to me what you did to Nix. I wish you’d beat me the way you beat yourself—”

“Laura! God, spare me!” And for a second the latent fire in her flared and gave Laura a curious thrill.

“I thought you would,” Laura cried. “I was prepared for anything, even that, when I came here. I still can’t believe you—I mean, you seem so funny. I thought you’d hurt me, and you’re so calm, so quiet—”

Beebo shook her head, looking at Laura with her disillusioned eyes. “I won’t hurt you, baby,” she said.

“You said once you’d kill me,” Laura said wildly, as if she were asking for it, as if it would be proof of Beebo’s huge need for her.

“I know. I meant it then, too. I was nearly crazy. But things have changed, Laura. I don’t throw my threats around so easily any more. There was a time when I could have done it, but no more. No more. Stop crying, baby. Stop, honey.” She began to stroke Laura’s long hair.

Laura looked up at her through pink eyes, her chest heaving in Beebo’s warm embrace, and they gazed at each other for some time before Beebo told her, kindly, trying to ease it for her, “I said I loved you, Laura. But it’s not the same for me, now. I don’t love you the way I used to. I couldn’t and go on living. You were my whole life for two years. I thought I couldn’t exist without you. I thought it would be better to kill you and die with you than go on without you. So what did I do?” She smiled in contempt for herself. And pity. A bitter smile. “I chickened out. I slaughtered a poor innocent pup instead. In the fury I should have saved for you. And what did it prove? Nothing. How did it help? It didn’t. It was a wasted gesture, Laura. A stupid, senseless thing.

“But you see, I was out of my mind in love with you at the time. Now all the madness has gone out of me, Laura. There’s not much fire left.” And she bent suddenly to touch Laura’s brow with her lips. Laura felt the sweet touch flow through her to her toes and she nestled close against Beebo, weeping at her words. “It’s not wild and wonderful and tormenting any more.”

“How did it happen?” Laura begged her, cruelly disappointed. “Maybe it’ll change.” She felt almost betrayed, as if she were in the arms of a stranger.

“No. I wouldn’t want it to change, now. It happened because if it hadn’t I would have died, Laura. I was so sick, so lost without you, that I would have gone to pieces. I’d have used the damn cleaver on myself.”

“Oh!” Laura breathed, horrified.

“I changed to save my life ... and my sanity. It took all my strength, but I did it. And strangely enough, it was a relief. I felt as if I’d laid down a killing burden.” She looked down at Laura, pulling her so tight that they could feel one another’s hearts beating, and Laura, her eyes shut, was saying to herself, “No, no, no....”

“I love you still, baby,” Beebo told her. “I know I should be proud and angry with you. I should kick you out or beat you up or both. But if I did it wouldn’t mean anything. It would only hurt, like I hurt Nix, for no purpose. I know Lili and the rest of them will bitch at me for taking you back—”

“Oh, will you, Beebo? Darling, darling, will you?”

“If you want it that way....” She stopped, looking into Laura’s tear-bright eyes.

“I want it that way,” Laura gasped.

But at the same time she had to realize that this was not her Beebo any more; that things had changed irreparably and forever between them; that the love they had left now was only good and tender, not the exalted, shivering passions of the past. It had to be so, because Beebo could never have forgiven her, let alone taken her back, otherwise. _And it’s my fault—all my fault. It’s the price I have to pay to get her back_, Laura told herself.

“If you had been like this last summer ... so calm, so casual,” she whispered humbly, “I would have stayed.”

“And now that I’ve calmed down, you want me wild again, don’t you?” Beebo laughed a little, a sad, wise laugh. “Crazy, isn’t it? Ironic and crazy. And there’s not a goddamn thing we can do about it, Bo-peep. Either of us ... baby....” She lifted Laura’s face and kissed it.

“I won’t tell you how I missed you. I won’t tell you what I went through. I wouldn’t even know how. It took a lot out of me. Too much. But you’re welcome to what’s left. If you want it.”

“I want it,” Laura said passionately. “I want _you_, Beebo.” She hung her head. “Unless ... unless you still want Tris?”

“I never did. I never wanted anybody else. I’ve been trying to give Tris back to Milo since she walked in on me the first time,” Beebo said. “She’ll give up on me when she finds out you’re home. She won’t want to make it a threesome.”

“Home,” Laura repeated. “Oh, Beebo....”

And suddenly her arms were locked around Beebo’s neck and they were lost in kisses and thrilling, half-forgotten caresses and the warm satin touch of each other’s bodies. The pajama top Laura had pulled on so frantically slipped off with no trouble, and she stretched out on the white spread beneath the girl she had loved so much, in spite of so much, and surrendered with a groan of delight tempered with sorrow. And perhaps the beginning of understanding at last.

* * * * *

It was only a matter of hours the next day before Laura knew that the feeling of strangeness she felt would not wear off. It was another two days before she could bring herself to give up hope that Beebo might change, that being together again would reawaken their crazy, beautiful, love affair.

But it was two whole weeks, two very long weeks full of wondering and self-pity and struggle and doubt, before Laura could tell herself that she had made a mistake.

Beebo was drained of feeling. She was tired, tired of love and even tired of life. Perhaps time and innate toughness would revive her, but she had nothing to give Laura now. Laura realized with chagrin how little she had to give Beebo. She had never given much, always taking, taking, taking, from the older girl, who seemed to have so much to offer. It had been too easy to help herself to that wealth of love and she understood now, painfully, that she had come back to Beebo to be worshipped again.

She had turned tail and run at the moment when her problems with Jack seemed too much for her, and she had run to the one person who had adored her spectacularly in the past. She needed her ego bolstered, she needed flattery and passion and reassurance from a woman. So it had come to her as an eye-opening blow to find her tempestuous lover subdued, transformed, almost a different person.

_It never was right_, Laura thought, watching Beebo over the dinner table. _She had to give beyond her strength and I took it all with no return. At least she was generous with herself. I was the selfish one. I always have been the selfish one. I thought the world was giving me a bum deal, but I was too selfish to see the good side. Even with Jack.... Oh my God, Jack. My poor darling. With him most of all._

“What are you thinking about?” Beebo asked her, seeing her absorption.

“I—I have to go back, Beebo,” Laura said and her own words startled her. “I have to see Jack once more.” Once expressed, these feelings so long in the making made her feel like crying. She looked apprehensively at Beebo, expecting her sarcasm.

But Beebo only said, “I thought you would. Well, go on, baby. Go tell him you’re sorry, it was all a nasty misunderstanding.” She spoke mildly.

“Don’t make it sound cheap, Beebo,” Laura pleaded.

“It won’t be anything _but_ cheap unless you go back to stay,” Beebo told her. “Otherwise there’s no point in going back at all.”

“But—but I’m going to live with you now,” Laura faltered. “I just have to see him once more. Explain to him—”

“You’re his wife. Either go home to him and grow up or don’t go back. What do you think you’d accomplish with a quickie visit, Bo-peep? Just pep him up a little? Make it all bearable? You’d be lucky if he didn’t run you out with a rifle. If you haven’t learned anything else in all this time, you _must_ have learned that you can’t play around with love as if it were a bargain basement special. Real love isn’t a production line thing, it isn’t waiting for you in any old shop window. Haven’t you learned that yet, baby?”

Laura nodded, putting her head back against the chair and letting the soothing tears flow quietly. “I’ve learned it. But it’s so hard to live by what you learn. I needed you so much when I came back two weeks ago. But I needed you the way you used to be.” It was a difficult admission, but Beebo understood it.

“Sure,” she said gently. “Now you’ve seen me. Now you know what I couldn’t find the words to tell you. It’s over, Laura. I’ll always be here, I guess we’ll always need each other a little. Maybe we’ll see each other now and then. But there’s no point in our living together.”