Beebo Brinker Chronicles 4 - Journey To A Woman (27 page)

"Beebo, I—would you mind telling me where my clothes are?” Beth faltered.

"I was just ironing them. Everything but the undies, and they don't show,” Beebo said. She pulled Beth's things from a drawer in her dresser. “Never iron what doesn't show,” she said, holding them out. “Life's too damn short."

Beth took them, gazing at her. “You mean you cleaned them up? You washed them all out? All my clothes?"

"Didn't take much figuring to see they were dirty,” Beebo said. “How long do you ordinarily wear a thing before you wash it?” She was smiling, a warm, even and compelling smile of amusement that both pleased and disconcerted Beth.

"I—I haven't been back to my room for a few days,” Beth admitted, ashamed and exasperated to feel her face color.

"I would have guessed as much,” Beebo said, sitting down on her bed and crossing her long legs at the ankles. “Only, I didn't have to guess. You told me."

I told you? When? Last night when I was drunk?"

"Last night and the night before that I didn't realize how far gone you were, baby, or I'd have rescued you sooner. My friendly enemy, Nina Spicer, called me finally. Said she'd have taken you home with her but she already had company, and she thought somebody'd better get you out of sight before the cops got interested."

Beth, struggling to get into her brassiere without exposing any of herself to those sharp and interested eyes of Beebo's, said mournfully, “The cops already know."

"Know what?” Beebo exclaimed, suddenly concerned. “The bastards,” she added under her breath.

"There's been one following me for days. Weeks, I mean. God, months, for all I know.” She lost her towel suddenly and pulled the panties up the rest of the way with a jerky movement that betrayed her self-consciousness.

"Do you mean a cop or a lousy detective?” Beebo said. There's a difference."

"Is there? Which is best? Or worst?” Beth said, standing on the towel and wiggling into her brassiere.

Beebo watched her, but not critically, not suggestively. “Depends,” she said laconically. “Have you done anything wicked lately?"

Beth pulled her slip over her head before answering, as if the extra covering might increase her dignity a little. Then she sat down at the foot of the bed, turned half away from Beebo, wondering what to tell her, whether to tell her anything. It would feel so good, it would help so much, the way it had helped to spill some of it to Nina before. But how far, how much, could she trust this strange, mannish woman who had taken her in and out of harm's way?

"Afraid to tell me?” Beebo said. “You don't have to. But if it's bad, maybe I can help. I've been in every conceivable scrape in my time, baby. I know the ropes."

Beth lowered her head. “I—I ran away,” she said, her voice only slightly above a whisper.

"That's nothing new."

"From my husband. I'm not divorced, Beebo. I just ducked out."

"Well, I never had a husband, thank God, but I've done some running away."

Beth turned her face to Beebo's and searched her for hidden laughter, for the sort of veiled scorn Nina showed her, for the hint of future betrayal. But Beebo's face was frank and open and Beth found, being so near her again, so close to that face, that she liked it inordinately. There was wisdom in it and the trace of pain lived through and learned from, and a very special personal beauty that almost no one else would have called by that gentle name.

"I ran away and left Charlie. And my children,” she said. “I have two, a boy and a girl. I abandoned them, Beebo. There was no excuse for it, no warning, no preparation for the kids. They just woke up the next morning and I was gone. I had no right to do it. I had no right to have children. Oh, God...” She stopped a minute to steady her voice. “If I'd only known years ago, if I'd only realized...."

They simply gazed at each other for a moment and then, as naturally as a mother and child coming together, they embraced. Beebo took Beth in her arms and comforted her and let her cry. She never asked her if she loved her children. She knew.

"I failed them,” Beth sobbed. “They were so young, just five and six, and they needed me so. But I was beastly to them; I hurt them. It was worse being there with them—worse for them, I mean."

"Worse for you, too, baby,” Beebo told her gently. “Don't lie to yourself."

"And now Charlie, or Uncle John, or somebody, has a goddamn detective following me around New York. He must know everything, he must have seen everything."

"Well, he can't see this,” Beebo reassured her, and Beth felt Beebo's lips against her forehead. It sent a curious thrill through her that pierced even her melancholy and made her cling the tighter. “How do you know he's found you yet?” Beebo said.

"Because I know who he is. I didn't realize it; I just thought he was somebody from the Village at first, but I've seen him uptown too and I swear it's the same guy. A dumpy little guy with bags under his eyes and a wrinkled suit. He looks tired all the time. And he's bald. I'm sure he's the one. Anyway, it doesn't matter; he's all over the damn place, everywhere I go. He's, probably downstairs right now, picking his nails and waiting for me to leave."

"I'll break his head,” Beebo murmured.

"And now Charlie's in Chicago and he'll probably come to New York and give me hell. And my family will disown me. Charlie at least had some idea of why I left him. He knew about Laura. We were all in school together nine years ago. I was in love with both of them at the same time. But Uncle John! And Aunt Elsa! They'll never speak to me again.” Her voice cracked under the load of emotion it carried.

"And the kids?"

"Oh, the kids,” she wept. “They'd be better off if they'd never been born. I guess Charlie will keep it from them, if it only doesn't get out back there and ruin their lives."

Beebo held her and comforted her for a long time, her arms warm and strong and profoundly welcome to Beth. She didn't laugh like Nina, she didn't shriek hysterically like Vega, she didn't analyze, with devastating truth and painful love, like Laura. She said nothing, she judged nothing. But, oh, how good she felt, how sure and how reassuring.

"Beebo,” Beth whispered after a while, the urge for catharsis still in her, “Did you ever fall for a woman, a very lovely desirable woman, and then discover that she wasn't at all what she'd made you think she was? Maybe she was sick, or deformed, or something. Something awful that shocked you badly and sort of—knocked the passion out of you. And you tried to go on like before until the whole thing made you sick and she got desperately jealous and finally you just ran away, without even saying goodbye, just to get rid of her?"

"Sounds like the story of my life,” Beebo said.

"Really?” Beth twisted in her arms, half sitting up to look at her. “Just like that?"

"Not just like that. But I've done some rotten things, baby. I've treated some girls like dirt. I could have been great friends with them, but I couldn't be a lover. You can choose your friends but not your lovers. They just happen to you."

"Did Laura just happen to you?” Beth asked.

Beebo smiled privately at the past. She released Beth and got up to light a cigarette, offering one to Beth from the pack. Beth took it. “I guess she did,” Beebo said, lighting them both. “She was so different from the others—to me, at least—that it's hard to think of it happening the way any other affair happens. But I guess it did."

"Beebo, do you think Laura was right about me?” Beth asked anxiously. “Do you think I'm just running away, looking for romance and all that?"

"I don't know, baby. I don't know you that well."

"Laura says I only want what I can't have. Once I've got it I don't want it. And Charlie thinks so, too."

Beebo grinned and scratched an ear. ‘They should get a license and set up practice,” she said. “Laura always did like to figure people out. Not maliciously, though, not for fun, like Nina. Just interested in people."

"Is she right? Am I just chasing rainbows because they can't be had?"

"I don't know, Beth. I'd guess you just want to belong somewhere. Most of us do. When you find out where you belong the pieces seem to fall into place by themselves. The puzzle works itself out."

There was silence for a few minutes while they smoked and thought and Beth felt a sort of calm, a near peace, that came close to being what she had sought so long and unsuccessfully. She didn't want to move, to change things or spoil the mood.

But Beebo said, “You'd better get back. I called the hotel, they were on the verge of closing you out. You've been gone six days."

"Six days!” Beth whispered, appalled. “Six?"

That's what they told me,” Beebo said. “Have you ever done that before?"

Beth shook her head. She dressed, putting on her freshly ironed clothes and eating some breakfast with Beebo. “What'll I do if that miserable detective is out there?” she said when she was ready to leave.

"What can you do?” Beebo said. “It's too late now. Just get a cab and go back to the hotel. And don't flirt with any women."

Beth gave her a hesitant smile. “Okay,” she said. And still she stood in the door as though reluctant to leave, even a little bit scared.

"What's the matter?” Beebo said, running a finger softly over Beth's cheek. “Got you down, sweetheart?"

"I don't know,” Beth said.

"There isn't anybody waiting for you, is there? I mean, besides the detective?"

"No. Unless—unless Charlie has gotten here already. Of my uncle."

"Do you want me to go back with you?” Beebo asked.

Beth considered. What would it be like to walk into her room with Beebo and find Charlie there? He would decide at once that this was her new lover, that Beebo was what she had traveled across the continent to find, and no amount of talking would argue him out of it. But did it matter any more? For she felt sure now that no matter what he said to her she couldn't go back to him. She had burned that bridge behind her. Even if he wanted her she had gone too far. She had deserted her children, and when a woman has done that there is no atoning, no going back, no starting over. It's final.

"Would you, Beebo? You don't need to stay, just drive over with me. I'd feel better."

"What if he's there?” Beebo said.

"I've made my choice,” Beth said.

"Okay, baby.” Beebo picked up another pack of cigarettes from a table by her sofa and followed Beth out the door, pulling it to and locking it behind her.

OUTSIDE IT WAS MUGGY and hot, with an overcast sky. “Rain,” Beebo said. “In an hour. It can't miss."

They walked over to Sixth Avenue and hailed a taxi, and all the while Beth was looking around her, behind and on all sides for the little man she was so sure was the detective. Now, when she was aware of him, when she knew who he was and what he was up to, she couldn't find him anywhere. And yet she was convinced that his eyes were on her, peering around some shadowy corner.

"Do you see him?” said Beebo, noticing her nervousness.

"No. I'll tell you if I do."

At the Beaton she checked at the desk for a note from Merrill Landon. Or her family, she thought suddenly, with rancor. There was no reason why they couldn't write to her now if they wanted to. They certainly knew where she was.

But there was nothing, nothing but the curious stares of the clerk and the elevator boy. Beth didn't know if they were for her or Beebo, or both. For Beebo cut rather a startling figure, even in her own milieu in the Village. Uptown, where everybody looked or tried to look perfectly conventional and ordinary, she was painfully obvious. Beth guessed that she didn't often come uptown, if only to spare herself embarrassment. There wasn't much Beebo could do about her looks, and rather than hide them she had finally surrendered to nature and even exaggerated them. It was a question which would have made her stand out the more—trying to hide her looks or playing them up. At least playing them up didn't expose her to the condescending pity that hiding them would have.

Beebo went with Beth up to her room. “It's a miracle I still have the key,” Beth said, opening her purse. “And a little money. I thought people were supposed to rob you in the big city."

"They are,” Beebo said as Beth pushed the door open. “Keep trying, they will."

Beth hesitated a moment before going in, feeling her heart give a tight squeeze and half expecting Charlie's handsome disillusioned face to rise up from the chair or the bed and stare at the two women with a look of evil suspicions confirmed. But the room was empty.

"Will you come in?” Beth asked, turning to Beebo, but Beebo shook her head.

"You rest, baby,” she said. “You don't need me. You're beat. It shows all over you. I'll call you later, maybe tonight."

"Thanks,” Beth said, “for coming home with me. I was so afraid he'd be here."

"I don't know what I could have done if he was,” Beebo grinned. “Except get the hell out and let the sparks fly. He probably will show up, by the way, if your detective is worth his pay."

"I know. But I'm glad it's not now,” Beth said. “I couldn't face anything just now."

"Okay, baby, get some sleep,” Beebo said and turned to go.

"You will call, won't you?” Beth called after her, and immediately wished she had kept her mouth shut It made her sound so eager.

"Yes, I'll call.” Beebo smiled, and then Beth shut the door after her, leaning on it until she heard the elevator stop, open, and start up again, carrying Beebo down with it.

For the first time since she had met Beebo, it caused her real pain to leave her. Beebo seemed like a protection to her, a gentle strength and a certainty to lean on. Was it only because Beebo was good to her? Patient with her? Was it because she knew so much about the strange and special world of Lesbianism and was willing to share her knowledge without making it painful for Beth? Or was it something compelling, something ineffably attractive in Beebo herself?

I'm just grateful to her, that's all, Beth tried to tell herself. She saved me from a lot of extra suffering. She's been good and generous. But then, why is it—why—? Why did she tremble when Beebo touched her? It was not the quake of fear but rather the lovely shivering of pleasure. Beebo stirred her physically.