Three Women (16 page)

Self-consciously, Paula opened the lid and stood back to watch Byrne as she bent over and lifted out the things one by one. She held up the green dress and said, "I think we should keep this for sentimental reasons. Undoubtedly it's your pride and joy."

Paula was grateful for Byrne's teasing. She knew that the woman was doing this only to give her mind some rest from the tearing emotions that pulled at her heart.

"And this," Byrne continued, shaking a blouse out of its folds, "is a very rare article indeed. These long collar points simply fascinate me." She sat back on the floor and crossed her legs. "I have a very fine idea, if you're up to it," Byrne said. "Supposing I get dressed and we go uptown to shop? A budding commercial artist should start exercising her talent for color and design."

Paula came to sit on the carpet beside her. "Oh, hold me," she said, closing her eyes to fight away the burning. "Hold me!"

Byrne put her arms around the girl and held her tightly. "You're mine," she whispered, "and I won't let anything make you unhappy. Ever."

Paula struggled to pull herself together. Bringing those other burdens into her new life with Byrne wasn't fair. She vowed to herself never to mention them again. And she began by thrusting them from her mind now.

"Clothes," she said, making herself concentrate on this business of being well dressed. "I've only been in those stores once. To get a graduation present the whole class chipped in for."

"Well, today we're going to get a graduation present for you. Let's hope we agree on what you should wear."

She looked at Paula to see if it were all right to let go of her yet. Paula helped her by getting up and seating herself on the reading chair. "Hurry up," Paula said. "I can't wait to pick out my trousseau." She winked grandly at Byrne who made a teasingly sour expression.

Paula wanted to watch her get dressed but she couldn't move from the chair. The thought of going to such expensive stores frightened her a little. But she would have to get used to this new level of living. In time, they would go to the theater and fancy restaurants, spending what amounted to more than a whole week's salary in one night. How many millions of women would ache to be in her place?

I've got so much to learn, Paula thought. So many little things that Byrne takes for granted. But Byrne hasn't always been rich. She'll help me get used to it

Byrne came back wearing a pale blue suit that showed off the line of her leg beneath the material. The way Byrne held herself, erect but with all the ease of polished grooming, made Paula breathless. In a pair of alligator pumps, she stood taller than most men. Paula thought, "This creature is mine. All mine, and I'll have to work hard to deserve her."

"Ready?" Byrne said as she flung on a dark blue coat.

They left the suitcase in the middle of the room and taxied up Fifth Avenue into the Saturday shopping crowds.

Byrne had charge accounts in half a dozen smart stores. She led Paula from rack to rack, making her feel the different materials, showing her the advantages of different textures and how to match or mix them. Byrne wasn't trying to make Paula over into her own image.

The pastel shades did not go well with Paula's dark brown eyes. She looked better in chestnut and electric blue and other strong tones. As she tried things on in the dressing room—a whole dressing room to herself without the smell of other bodies pushing and struggling around her—she found herself standing straighter automatically. I can be part of Byrne’s world, she thought. All I need is a little time.

In the mirror she watched the reflection of Byrne's face and noted the smile of approval. Byrne's appreciation was all she wanted. That would give her the courage to do anything.

By three in the afternoon, both women were exhausted. They rode up to Central Park and went into one of the restaurants which Paula had seen advertised in magazines that catered to rich people.

Byrne, at ease as though they were going into a cafeteria, smiled greeting at the hostess who led them to a table.

Paula stared at the menu and remembered that she was not supposed to care about the prices. "I’ll have a steak," she said to Byrne.

"Shrimp cocktail first?”

“No," Paula said, remembering the skinny shrimp in an Italian restaurant that had nearly killed her.

Byrne ordered for them both and Paula was glad that she did not ask for a highball. Paula never wanted to see whiskey again because to drink meant to be unhappy. And Paula had no intention of being unhappy or allowing Byrne to be.

They chatted about little things. Sitting across the white table cloth from this beautiful creature, she felt that everyone must be staring at them. Filled with pride, Paula basked in Byrne's company.

When the waiter brought Byrne's shrimp cocktail, Paula stared at it with surprise. "They're whales," she said.

Promptly Byrne said to the waiter, "Please bring another one."

He nodded and departed.

"Next time I’ll know better," Paula laughed.

The experience of dinner made Paula feel as if she had never before eaten in her whole life. Food had always been something just a little greasy or a little too spiced. Accustomed to that, she never thought about the possibility of dining for pleasure. Even Sunday dinners were just dull repetitions of either a roast chicken or a Virginia ham. She was sick to death of both.

Placed before her on its shining platter, her steak oozed succulent juice. Byrne let her concentrate on the meal—which Paula found impossible not to do; the entire experience made her feel much like a child confronted with a new and exciting toy.

"It's very strange," Paula said after dessert. She leaned back in the chair, satisfied, just a little too full, but happy. "All your life you try to believe that money isn't everything. But aside from love, I think it really is."

"You're drunk on cream pie," Byrne laughed. She herself had relaxed from the full dinner and was languidly stirring sugar into her coffee.

"I'm drunk on everything. Cream pie, clothes, taxi rides. And most of all, you."

"Well, stay that way." Byrne lit both their cigarettes and Paula noticed a man watching them curiously from his own table across the room.

Irritated, she wondered what in the hell he was looking at but decided not to call Byrne's attention to it. But Byrne must have caught the sudden annoyance on her face because she followed the direction of Paula's glance.

"Don't let it bother you," Byrne said in a low voice. "After a while you’ll get used to it. Pretty soon, you won't notice it at all."

"But why?" Paula said. "We don't look like freaks. I think he's jealous because you're not with him," Paula said decidedly.

"Maybe that's it," Byrne agreed. "But whatever the reason, let's not spoil our dinner because of him."

"Agreed."

But Paula couldn't regain her previous comfort and contentment She felt almost an itch in the side of her head where the man was looking.

They finally left the restaurant and took a cab back home.

"Well stay in tonight" Byrne said. "I don't think either one of us is up to going out on the town."

She found an old pair of jeans for Paula to wear and put on her charcoal slacks because Paula told her how much she liked them.

The realization that she didn't have to leave tonight that she would not be going back to that now loveless and cold apartment blew Paula into a state of lightness that made her feel she could float right out of the window and up into the sky.

Byrne switched on the radio and tuned on some soft music. She went to Paula and said, "Will you dance with me?"

A new thrill rippled through the girl. She nodded and moved in close to Byrne. She had often danced before but never like this. They hardly seemed to move and yet Paula felt as if they hardly touched the ground. She matched small into every curve of Byrne's body. They blended into each other like two halves of the same person. The pressure of Byrne's palm on her back made Paula feel safe and surrendering. Dance had become a prelude to love. Neither spoke as their bodies swayed in time to the music and developed a subtler rhythm of their own.

* * *

The newness of being together all night kept Paula from sleeping. She lay listening to the soft breathing of her beloved, wondering what dreams possessed her. Delicately, she kissed the arm flung across her. And at last because she was tired and because she was content, Paula joined Byrne in slumber.

She woke late the next morning and it took a moment to realize that she was not in the lumpy bed at home. Her body felt different; not cramped and squeezed by the narrowness of her bed but relaxed and healthy. She felt a sudden impulse to leap up and run naked through the rooms. But she lay still so as not to waken Byrne. Sunshine fell in stripes of warm yellow on her beloved's skin. She watched the glistening, rainbow-like color of Byrne's hair in the light. The face in sleep looked even younger than it did when awake. The lines of laughter or a frown were smooth on her forehead, and the little-girl freckles seemed more obvious. Paula wondered what Byrne had been like as a child. She did not imagine she had ever looked different from the way she did at this moment.

Paula lay quietly for a long time, waiting for Byrne to waken. Full of the day’s spirit, she grew impatient finally and leaned across to kiss her on the mouth, only lightly to stir her. Byrne turned her head and sniffed in sleep. Paula kissed her again and watched the eyelids flutter. Eyes still closed, a sleepy smile drifted across the face and lazily, Byrne returned Paula's kiss.

"You are here," she mumbled. "I was dreaming that you had slept beside me."

"But I did," Paula said.

"Yes." She drawled the single word as though it were the key to all of life's secrets and happiness.

Paula took a shower in the tile bathroom, letting the water spray steaming hot against her. She put her head under to feel her hair pushed forward by the force of the needles. Having found a bottle of shampoo on the floor of the shower, she squeezed its cold liquid into her scalp. She rubbed vigorously, inhaling the soap's perfume.

Almost reluctantly, she stepped out of the stall, and called to Byrne for a towel. Byrne brought in two, threw one over Paula's head and began rubbing her back with the other.

"I think I used all the hot water," Paula said, surrendering herself to the pleasure of the vigorous towelling against her skin.

Byrne chuckled without answering and Paula realized that you just didn't use up all the water here because you couldn't. When will I learn? There's so much, she thought.

While Byrne was taking her own shower, Paula went out to get a paper. She really wanted to stay at home, alone with Byrne, but she had said there were art exhibits they should see.

Together they went over the entertainment section while Byrne explained what the different galleries had to offer. She stopped in the middle of a sentence suddenly and smiled at Paula. "You're not really listening, are you, darling?"

Paula had to admit that she wasn't. Sunday was for staying at home alone and enjoying each other. A day for doing little things that people do together. Maybe taking a walk later on and looking into shop windows.

"Every day," Byrne said, "you show me how to appreciate something I'd hardly noticed before. It would never occur to me to go for a quiet stroll on a Sunday. The way you put it makes the idea seem marvelous. After a while one gets caught in the race to keep busy and do something, anything at all so that you needn't think. It's a terrible trap, and you make me realize it. You’ll have to re-educate me, Paula. I really need a few lessons.”

Paula had no reply. Of all the things in the world, re-educating Byrne was hardly something she had thought possible. Byrne should be the teacher, if either of them had to be. But her confusion disappeared suddenly; she understood that learning was a mutual thing, that two people in love taught each other. And recognizing again that Byrne did love her, Paula felt a wave of gladness rush through her.

Byrne dressed and put on comfortable shoes, and both of them bundled up against the cold. They might not be able to stay outside long, but a restaurant would always be at hand to warm them with coffee; besides, they would be together.

They strode briskly along the streets and Paula watched Byrne's cheeks whipped pink by the wind. She looked more vital and healthy, more beautiful, than Paula had ever seen her.

Later that afternoon they went to a movie and Byrne reached for Paula's hand beneath the protection of her folded coat. They had dinner in Chinatown and came home late that night, happy with each other and pleasantly tired.

Byrne said, "Maybe you should sketch."

And Paula said, "Maybe you should sketch." They laughed and dawdled till Paula began to yawn. But before they went to bed, there was something she wanted Byrne to tell her. She knew it was a childish question, yet she must have Byrne's opinion before she could make her own final decision on the matter.

They were sitting on the bed, half undressed, when Paula brought it up. "What we're doing," Paula began. "Is what we're doing really wrong or are other people just stupid?"

Byrne was hanging up her skirt. She finished pinning it and came over to Paula. Taking off the girl's shoes, she said, "I wish I could help you, darling. But that's the kind of question like which came first, the chicken or the egg."

"Well, what do you think? You must think something about it. After all, it's a whole way of life."

"I think it's right for some people and wrong for others."

"It's right for us, isn't it?"

Byrne put the shoes neatly beside each other and stood up. "It's right for me, anyway. And I can't stand here and tell you that you shouldn't love me. All I can say is that I'm doing my best to make you happy. And I need you enough to turn handsprings if necessary. But let's not get involved with the question of morals."

Paula was thinking about the man in the restaurant She had realized then for the first time that her love for Byrne made her different and set her apart. But everyone was entitled to be in love. And no love could be more beautiful than Paula's love for Byrne. Yet she knew now that they must always hide their feelings, no matter how wonderful their love seemed. The world's judging eyes condemned them, forced lovers like them always to sneak and lie. Something in Paula screamed against that pain and injustice, but she did not forget that loving Byrne was as natural and right for her as marriage and children were for others. The world did not matter; love did. Byrne mattered; and Byrne was Paula's world.