Odd Girl (5 page)

"Beth, you remember that day in the theater—when I behaved so foolishly and cried?"

"Yes," Beth nodded, "over me."

The statement was so simple. Beth had known the truth all along.

"I thought you had gotten over that, Anne." Beth added softly.

Anne shook her head. She could barely speak. Beth knew and understood everything and it brought the whirlpool back and the weakness in her knees. She was no longer in control of herself.

Beth rose from the chair and went to sit next to her on the bed.

"Anne," she began, "I'm glad you took the long way round."

Anne looked at her, puzzled. "I don't understand."

Beth smiled, brushing her hair with a finger. The morning sunlight made the platinum shine and Anne thought her even more beautiful.

"If you had talked to me months ago," Beth started, "I would have done my best to help you get over it, to go out with Mark. But you found Mark all by. yourself and you've decided all by yourself that you don't want Mark. I'm glad I had nothing to do with it."

"Beth," Anne forced the words because she had to know, "are you a Lesbian?"

Beth smiled and rose. "No." She walked to the window and looked out to the street below.

Anne's heart sank. Beth understood, but Beth did not desire her.

"Anne, I wish I could explain myself to you," Beth said. "I don't feel capable of love. I've always been a good-time Charlie. Even my affair with Mark has always been strictly for laughs. Last night, if you had stayed, if the three of us had been involved—it wouldn't have been a new thing for me. What disgusts and upsets me is that Mark used me to hurt you."

She turned now and looked at Anne and Anne knew that Beth was waiting for her to say something. Anne said, "More coffee?"

Beth nodded and looked outside again. The sunlight bathed her figure. Anne paused to look at her from the kitchen, holding back the trembling that still threatened to overpower her. Then she controlled herself and brought back a fresh cup. Beth was still staring at the street.

"Anne," she said finally, "are you terribly unhappy?"

Anne nodded and forced a "Yes."

Beth pulled the shade down and stood looking through the slit in the window. "Come here," she said.

The same cold nervousness gripped Anne and she could barely move, but she came to stand beside Beth at the window.

"Take my hand," Beth said quietly.

Trembling, Anne reached out and took Beth's slender hand. The long fingers wound around hers tightly and for a moment Anne could not breathe as she felt the touch of Beth surging through her body.

"Back in school," Beth said, "my best friend was gay. We had an affair but I outgrew it. She has a roommate now and they're very happy. Some Lesbians are happy because it's natural for them to be Lesbians. You may or may not be one of those." She turned now and looked at Anne. "No one in the world can make you a Lesbian, Anne," Beth said. "The same way that Mark couldn't make you like him. The same way that I couldn't possibly love a woman for very long." She stopped again and gripped Anne's hand more tightly than before. "Can you bear my going away afterward? Anne, afterwards I won't want to see you again, not for months.”

"I can't bear not having known you," Anne said.

"Once and only once, Anne," Beth said.

Anne nodded, unable to let go of her hand, unable to move. Beth neared her, taking her in her arms slowly and tenderly. A shaft of pleasure went through Anne. Now she knew it was pleasure and not pain, and was conscious only of a superb softness and an unbearable attraction that would not let her body stop touching Beth's. Beth's flesh was familiar; Beth's mouth was sweet. Anne clung to her mouth, not wanting ever to let go. And then, Beth forced her to let go and brought her mouth to Anne's breast, gently removing the folds of clothing that separated their bodies until they lay naked, somehow having found the bed through the whirlpool, and Anne could not bear to wait anymore and cried for Beth to come and please her.

* * *

The ringing of the phone jarred Anne from her exhausted, peaceful sleep. She kissed Beth softly before she rose to answer.

It was Mark. He called to let her know, he said, that he had told her parents that she was abnormal. "For your own good. Because you're sick. You need help, Anne."

She slammed the phone down in fury and went back to the bed.

Beth lay next to her, her head on her breast and fitting so well in her arms and Anne knew that there was nothing wrong with her. She felt right for the very first time, and all she could think was, Poor Dad, what a shock.

"The bastard," Beth said. "I could wring his neck." Anne thrilled at her indignation, but she said, "Please don't bother," and raised Beth's head so that their lips could touch.

"There's one thing I can do," Beth said. "I can testify for your divorce.”

The thought was devilish and they both laughed over it. But Anne said she didn't think it would be necessary and Beth agreed; they would threaten him with that if he tried to make things difficult. And they both knew that Mark might become difficult too easily.

Beth sat up and they kissed once more, and Anne responded hungrily. Beth pushed her away gently. "I'm going to have to leave," she said.

Anne accepted it and said nothing and lay on the bed hugging her pillow. It had grown dark outside and Beth put on the small lamp to dress by. She was upset and moved slowly. Finally she said, "You think I'm being cruel."

Anne shook her head. She was choking back tears; she couldn't speak.

"Anne—" Beth went to her and put her hands on her shoulders, "Look, my resolutions are never very strong. If you came to me one night I wouldn't turn away from you—I couldn't."

Anne turned to look at her. She was very beautiful in the half-light and she resisted the impulse to kiss her once again.

"Look," Beth went on, "it would be hell if this went on. You'd grow too fond of me and then there'd be a bloody mess."

"It's all right, Beth," Anne managed to say. "I understand. You feel about me as I felt about Mark. You're right. It's best if we stop now."

Beth pressed her head against Anne's. "You'll be okay, won't you?"

"I'm fine," Anne said.

Beth moved away from her again and put on her blouse hurriedly and took her coat. She paused at the door one last time and said, "Show's going on the road in two weeks. I'll look you up again six months from now."

"That will be fine," Anne said.

"I'll send you post cards—" Beth said.

"Thanks." Anne could no longer hold her tears now and she cried on the pillow. "Thanks, Beth."

Beth paused another moment and then left, closing the door softly behind her.

With strong determination Anne prepared herself for the Oval. It was the next Friday night and Jacques sat on her day couch, drink in hand, approving her outfit.

"Alice, whatever you do, don't speak to strange men," he said, "but do speak to strange women."

Anne laughed and spun around to let him see how she looked. She wore a pair of colorful slacks and a Mexican shirt.

Jacques whistled. "They'll sure know you're femme in that."

"But I'm not," Anne laughed. "I can't stand those butches. I'm out after the girls."

He roared. "Well, Mary, don't pick up a drag queen by mistake."

"I'll know the difference," Anne replied with a smile.

She felt so free. Once in a while she thought of Beth and cried for her, but still she felt free. She was out to look for a new Beth, one that would stay with her and love her and accept her love—somewhere in that strange new world across the street.

"Don't stay in the Oval," Jacques was warning her. "Find out where the better bars are and get the hell out to them. I don't think that place is safe."

"All right, Mother," Anne said.

"Are you sure you don't want me along?" he asked again.

"No, I'll be all right." She smiled. "Besides, I like to walk into lions' dens alone."

He laughed. "It's more a cat lair than a lion's den.”

"Very funny," she said. "Now let's cut the conversation and get on over there."

He got up and took his coat and went out with her.

"I'll be in the Florentin if you need me," he said.

He left her in front of the bar and waited as she climbed the steps to the door. It was early and the rough crowd had not gathered yet. It seemed fairly safe.

Anne was afraid but walked in through the swinging door and stood, surveying the inside. The Oval was round like its name, dark and painted red with overt drawings of half-men, half-women dancing together and drinking. The bar was peopled like the drawings and Anne's unskilled eye had difficulty determining the separate sexes. She walked to a table in the corner and sat down.

There seemed to be no waitress and she sat there, waiting. Her eyes were becoming more accustomed to the darkness and she was able to distinguish the sex of several of those at the bar. They were mostly girls in men's clothes. One particularly, a tall young man-girl at the end of the bar, dressed in jeans and lumberjacket, had seemed to notice her. She was looking at Anne through the corner of her beer glass and then turned to look at her through the mirror behind the bar.

Her hair was black and slicked back, but her face was ghost-pale even in the red light. Anne did not find her active, and yet there was something likable about her. Anne marvelled at her own lack of fear—the fear that had seized her when the girl had come out of the Oval a week ago. Beth has wrought a change in me, she thought. Then a man sat at her table and broke in on her thoughts. She turned to him angrily. "I'm sorry, this table is taken."

"That's all right, baby," he said, "I don't mind." He was drunk and tried to pat her hand. She withdrew it quickly and looked for the bartender. She was at the other end of the bar. Anne felt trapped. She had sat in the corner and there was no way to get up from the table without going past him.

"What'll you have?" he asked.

"Nothing," she answered, trying to get up and past him. He pushed her down again and her anger flared.

"Get your hands off me," she said and hit him.

"So you want to play rough," he said, grabbing her hands.

"That's enough, mister," a dark voice said. It was the girl at the end of the bar. She had come over, holding her beer bottle. "Let go of her," she said. Her eyes were hard and her expression strong.

"What's the idea?" he said, not getting up.

"Moe," the girl called, not turning. Moe appeared, a heavy-set man over six feet tall. Anne had noticed him sitting at the door.

"He's annoying a customer," the girl said.

"Back to the bar," Moe motioned to him.

"What's the idea?" the man repeated. But Moe motioned again and he got up reluctantly, cursing.

"Yeah? The same to you, too!" the girl shouted after him.

"The management is sorry," Moe said in his best manner.

"Thanks," Anne said. He went back to his post.

So this was a bouncer. Anne was amused.

"Can I get you a drink?" the girl said. "I work here."

"Scotch and coke," Anne said. The girl turned and shouted to the bar, "Hey, Toots—a cola 69!" Toots saluted and poured out a shot of scotch and let it slide down the bar. The girl put it on her tray with the glass of soda that followed and came back to Anne's table. "Straight or in?" she asked.

"Mixed," Anne said. She poured the shot into the coke and put it on the table. Then she stopped and waited. "Will that be all?"

Anne nodded. "Guess so. Won't you join me?" she added.

The girl smiled and said thanks and pulled up a chair across from her. "I'm Skippy. What's your name?"

"Anne," she said.

"Gay?"

"Think so." Anne remembered Jacques' terms and laughed to herself. Why couldn't she have said, "Are you homosexual?"

Now that Skippy had spoken to her she did not seem so strange. She was even attractive. Again Anne marvelled at herself. An unattractive man did not grow attractive when she spoke to him, only more repulsive, and yet Skippy made her feel at ease.

"Hey, don't you belong in Paradise?" Skippy said.

"Is that a compliment or a place?"

"Both," Skippy laughed. "It's across the park. Only girls allowed in there."

"Is it in the telephone book?" Anne asked.

"Yep, Downstairs Paradise. You won't have trouble finding it."

Skippy sat up and looked at her warmly. "This your first time in a bar?"

Anne blushed; she had hoped to seem more sophisticated.

"Tell you what," Skippy said, "if you want to hang around until I get off, I'll go with you."

"How long will that be?" Anne said.

"Couple of hours."

"That would be very nice."

"Fine." Skippy saluted and rose and went back to the bar with her tray and watched her from the mirror as she spoke to Toots.

Anne sat back and waited. The juke box was playing wild rock and roll and she listened, watching the people at the bar. She still did not feel comfortable there, as if someone might approach her again at any moment and Moe or Skippy would have to rescue her. Somehow she sensed there was danger in the Oval, from a drunk, or a man with a knife, because the place seemed to attract men who hated women. She was glad Moe was nearby.

Then Skippy came back and set her tray down on her table and said, "Do you rock?"

Anne listened to the music. It was a drum rock. It was compelling. "Sometimes," she said, "but I like to lead."

Skippy laughed. "That's a turn. Okay." She extended her hand and helped Anne slide around the booth. They walked to the inner room to the middle of the floor where the tables had been arranged so that there was dance space. It was still early—they were the only couple on the floor.

"Okay, let's," Skippy said, falling into the rhythm.

Anne was a good dancer. It had been part of her drama training and she often led Jacques in a rock and roll. Now she let herself loose and soon lost Skippy who swung to the side and watched her, shouting "Whahoo!" This made her self-conscious and she slowed down, dancing with Skippy again.