Odd Girl

by Artemis Smith

  Anne smiled too and nodded and brought her lips up to meet Johnson's gentle kiss. "It's a pity you're sending me off to work," she said.

  "You need your job now," Johnson said.

  Anne nodded and sighed.

  They were silent, with volumes of things to say as they walked to the bus stop. They waited quietly on the corner and smiled at each other in the light of the sun and the clear blue sky.

  CHAPTER 8

  Anne watched Johnson wave to her from the bus stop and then sat back in her seat by the window. The bus was always nearly empty at this stop, but when they reached 14th Street, people began to crowd on. Anne let herself be squeezed into the corner of her seat and tried to avoid an open newspaper now dangerously close to the tip of her nose. But no one could crowd out the fact that she was alive—and that she was happy.

  At 55th Street she got off and walked the long block to Fifth Avenue, to her office. She had never been fifteen minutes early for work. She had always hurried to arrive two minutes before nine. But this morning she was early, and it gave her time to see the sun-filled sidewalk and time to look at the green of the small trees in front of the apartment buildings. She thought she heard birds and looked up and saw the pigeons. Does everyone love morning as I do? she wondered. Then she remembered Esther. Esther loved morning. What am I going to do about Esther? Anne thought.

  She shrugged her shoulders and walked on in the same happy stride. "For once I'm going to be irresponsible," she said aloud.

  Anne was a secretary in a publishing house that owned its own building. It was a white, new building with self-service elevators. Since everyone came late, Anne's elevator was empty. She pressed the button and rode quickly to her floor. Only the office manager was earlier than Anne and Anne waved to her on the way to her own desk.

  "Good morning," the woman answered. She was romantically named Juliette and she was fat and middle-aged and still unmarried. She had worked for the firm eighteen years and still remembered its first crowded offices on Madison Avenue.

  Anne hung up her jacket and then went to Juliette's desk. "Did Phil miss me very much yesterday?"

  "I'll say," Juliette laughed. "He was a spoiled brat all day. How's your cold?"

  "Almost gone." Anne cleared her throat. She had forgotten that was the excuse she had given over the telephone yesterday, when she had been with Esther.

  "Hi, Anne, all better?" Alan, the office boy, called from the door. He was a small, bespectacled youth with a slight Brooklyn accent—almost an affected lisp. Anne always wondered about him; he seemed as if he might be gay.

  "Much better," Anne said. She excused herself now and went to her desk. Alan and Juliette scarcely missed her, they were so anxious to start gossiping together.

  They're both so tense, Anne thought. She pitied them. The firm was losing money and many people had been let go. Alan and Juliette were the only ones left of the original staff on Anne's floor. Alan had worked here six years—Anne wondered what kept him on here; she could understand Juliette's worrying—it would be hard for her to find another job—but Alan could find another one at his salary or better elsewhere.

  She pulled the typewriter out of her desk and snapped it into place. Anne was a good typist, but there was hardly any opportunity to use her skills here. Phil, her boss, was fresh out of ivy league and the least busy of all the executives. He was axe-man for the President and spent most of his time chatting and planning with him, or dictating memos. Phil was in charge of the new staff-reduction policy and because Anne was his secretary, Juliette and Alan distrusted her.

  Phil wouldn't be in until ten, and Anne had nothing to do until he came. She pretended to be busy with routine things but her thoughts were filled with Johnson and she really didn't want to work. She could hardly wait until the end of the day. Jacques might want the apartment, she thought; I'll call him. She looked at her watch. It was ten after nine. He would be in his office. She took up the telephone and dialed.

  Jacques was working down in the Wall Street district this season. Anne heard the operator announce his shipping firm and asked for him. She was connected with Accounting. Again she asked for him and heard the young man who had answered call him to the phone.

  "Hello?" she heard him say. His voice still sounded gay, but subdued in the office, and slightly hoarse.

  "Good morning," Anne said, imitating Johnson's cheery voice.

  "For God's sake," he spoke louder, "we've been trying to get you all night."

  "Who's we?" Anne asked.

  "Esther, Carl and I," Jacques said. "We had a ball at Carl's house."

  At the mention of Esther, Anne hesitated a moment. What was she going to tell Esther about Johnson? "I've had to move suddenly," she said to Jacques. "I'll tell you where you can reach me later. Meanwhile, are you still interested in my apartment?"

  "To live in? Sure!" Jacques said without hesitation. Long subleases with low rents were scarce. "But what's up?"

  "Mark's told my parents where I live," Anne said. "I'm staying with a friend."

  "A girl friend, I suppose," Jacques said naughtily. "Don't worry, I'll take care of Esther."

  "No, don't do that," Anne said sternly. "I'll tell her myself."

  "Oh, Alice!" Jacques said. Anne hoped the operator was not listening in.

  "Meet me at my apartment at six," she said. "We can talk about everything then."

  "Right," Jacques said, and hung up.

  Anne put the phone down and thought a moment. It would be impossible to work today. Too many things were going on. She would have to speak to Esther and clear the air. And she had to go and pack at her apartment and see Jacques, and there was shopping to do for supper tonight with Johnson. And there was thinking to be done about Johnson, a lot of thinking.

  Anne remembered Johnson vividly. The memory had been with her all morning, making her arms and legs, her whole body weak with after-pleasure. And now she was afraid of Johnson, afraid of falling in love too soon. Beth had been unsure, and Esther. Johnson seemed sure, but perhaps this was only a first impression. Perhaps all Lesbians were undependable, neurotic, incapable of prolonged feelings. Cora's crowd changed partners every six months and fell hard each time. Paradise was full of every-nighters. Only a few relationships seemed really permanent—and even Johnson's Helen had left, after eight years.

  Remember the high incidence of divorce, she told herself. Men and women aren't making such a good average either—and more of the breaks are on their side: family approval, the law, church—even quiz programs and books on marriage and sex.

  Anne shook off the fear. She would go slowly, would not turn Johnson into Beth, not for a while.

  "You still look sick." Juliette was passing by with a ream of mimeograph paper in her hand.

  "Do I?" Anne blushed. She decided lack of sleep was finally showing on her face.

  "Better go right to bed after work," Juliette said.

  Anne wondered if Juliette suspected her of having stayed overnight somewhere—perhaps with Mark. Mark had been a familiar sight around the office up to four weeks ago; she hadn't told anyone that they were married.

  Anne laughed silently; at least Juliette wouldn't suspect the real reason for Anne's "cold." She wondered what would happen if Juliette knew. Would it change her attitude? Would she be afraid of Anne, or full of hate? Anne wanted to tell someone. She felt proud of being different. Like Jacques, she wanted people to know. She wanted now to cut her hair short and wear a tailored suit—like Miss Barnes, the woman at the far corner of the floor in the production department.

  Miss Barnes is a handsome woman, Anne thought. I wonder if she's gay.

  It was nearing ten now and Phil, Anne's boss, walked in with the Times under his arm. He was earlier than usual, perhaps because of the beautiful morning.

  Phil is affected but he's not gay, Anne thought, looking from Miss Barnes to him. It showed in the way he walked and talked, in his favorite expressions, in the perpetual twist of his eyebrows like a puppy b
eaten by its master, full of hate.

  "All better, Anne?" he said, concerned. He was sweet in the morning. It was only after two o'clock in the afternoon that he became tense and ill-tempered. Perhaps because he had seen the president.

  "Almost well," Anne said again. "Just a cold."

  "We've lots to do this morning so bring your pad in," he said, not really hearing her reply. He rolled up his Times into a stick and strode into his cubicle, hitting his hand with the paper. "Yes sir, lots to do."

  Anne groaned silently. Oh well, she consoled herself, perhaps the day will go faster if I'm busy.

  By noon she was so involved with work that she planned to have a sandwich sent up. But then Esther called. "Hi—free for lunch?" Esther said gayly. "A short one," Anne said, a bit afraid to see her. It would be hard to explain about Johnson.

  "I'll walk over and meet you downstairs in ten minutes," Esther said.

  Carl's house was nearby and only now Anne realized how convenient her office location could be—Esther could meet her for lunch often. But Johnson had appeared on the scene, and she really should break with Esther. Her call made Anne remember her more vividly and she knew it would be hard to break with her. Esther needed Anne more than Johnson needed Anne. Someone was needed to take her away from Carl.

  She brought her attention back to the letter she was typing and finished it, then put it on Phil's desk for signing. He was already out for his two-hour lunch. She walked quickly to the closet and put on her jacket, then ran to catch the down elevator.

  Esther was five minutes late. She arrived dressed in slacks. She looked beautiful, more so than in a dress, but Anne winced, hoping no one on her floor would be coming out of the elevators now.

  "Let's eat in the Zoo," Anne said, taking her arm and quickly leading her out of the building.

  "What's the rush?" Esther laughed, refusing to be hurried.

  "Oh, nothing," Anne gave up. Esther had no feeling for her environment.

  They walked up Fifth Avenue.

  "What's this about your moving?" Esther said. "I called Jacques and he told me."

  "A long story," Anne sighed. "Mark told my parents where I live." She didn't want to explain it now, none of it, particularly to Esther. Talking to Esther at this moment was difficult.

  "Where are you staying?" Esther said.

  "With a friend," Anne said cryptically.

  Esther was silent and they walked until they reached the plaza with the fountain. They found an empty spot on the white steps and sat.

  Esther impulsively took Anne's hand and squeezed it. "Do you like me?"

  "Why do you ask?" Anne blushed.

  "You're acting strangely," Esther said. "Are you angry at me?"

  "No," Anne said, "I'm not angry. I guess I feel guilty, that's all." The best way to tell Esther was simply to tell her. "I met someone last night," she said. She didn't want to say it was Johnson; it might not be right to do that.

  Esther looked at her innocently for a moment and then became concerned and said sadly, "Oh. Another girl?"

  Anne nodded. "I felt awful when you left yesterday. I wanted to hit back at you for leaving me, for choosing Carl. I went a little too far last night and now I'm confused."

  Esther paused for a moment and thought about this. Finally she said, "You like her."

  "Yes," Anne said.

  "But you also like me?" Esther said.

  "Yes," Anne said again. Now she laughed, a little embarrassed. She had never thought such a situation would arise. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she was hurting Esther, very much. She wanted to do something about it, but there was nothing to do.

  Esther laughed boisterously and rubbed Anne's head fondly. "Don't take things so seriously. I haven't been reporting to you, have I?" She pretended not to have been reached by Anne's revelation, but she seemed very pale against the white steps.

  "I can't help taking things seriously," Anne said. "I want to find someone I can take seriously."

  "I guess I haven't made you feel very secure," Esther said quietly.

  "I wasn't very secure to start with," Anne said. "It really wasn't your fault."

  "And then there's Carl," Esther said.

  "Yes, there's Carl," Anne said. Now she was silent and waited for Esther to speak.

  "Let's walk," Esther said, getting up.

  They started again toward the Zoo. There were many people out today, much traffic, and more pigeons. They crossed the plaza and came to the park and walked down the path to the crowds around the cages. On either side of them old men and women, the younger ones, some with baby carriages, occupied every inch of space on the benches.

  Esther walked very close to Anne, holding her hand. Her nearness was pleasantly exciting, and Anne almost regretted Johnson for a moment.

  "I don't know if I can explain Carl," Esther said, after a while. "I can only say I need him. I want to marry him, if I can bring myself to do it."

  "Why?" Anne said, completely surprised.

  "Because I don't want to be what I am," Esther said, disturbed at saying this. "I'm afraid."

  "But why Carl?" Anne said. Someone younger and healthier would have been a better choice.

  "Because I don't have to do anything with Carl," Esther said. "Don't you understand? I don't want to have to do anything with a man."

  "And you think you can marry Carl and still be free to go to Paradise—and have his money and all that security, without giving anything in return," Anne said blankly. "You think that with Carl you can have something for nothing."

  "You don't understand," Esther said, now highly upset. "That's not it at all."

  "But I do understand," Anne said. The memory of her visits at .Carl's house was strong, the memory of the resentment in Carl's eyes. "You don't think Carl wants anything from you but he does. He wants to have all of you. You'll never have a life of your own with him. If anyone else dares to come near to you, dares to love you—or if you love—Carl will smash them, quietly, innocently, threatening you with his sickness, filling up your time with a dozen other people."

  "No, that's not true," Esther said. They had stopped in the middle of the path now and her voice was quite loud.

  "It is true," Anne said. "Wasn't it true with me? Wasn't I brought in to make you forget someone else you were interested in? Won't there be someone—isn't there someone right now—to replace me? Hasn't Carl invited someone else over for this Sunday morning?" She stared fixedly at Esther and took her wrists, pleadingly. "Esther, think—hasn't he kept you on a gay merry-go-round? Are you really happy?"

  Esther turned away from her. "Let's not stop here. Let's walk," she said.

  They went further into the Zoo and then out again and some benches were vacant. They found one and sat.

  "Is someone else invited this Sunday morning?" Anne said. Her tone was softer this time. She did not want to hurt Esther or put her through some third degree. But she felt it was necessary to get things clear between them. It was necessary before she decided about Johnson.

  "Yes," Esther said, sounding a little beaten, "someone is invited."

  "I'm glad Carl is keeping you well amused," Anne said bitterly. Instantly she regretted her tone. "I've been very hard on you. I'm sorry."

  "Sometimes the truth hurts," Esther smiled sadly. "Everything you've said is true, and I've known it for a long time. But I don't want to do anything about it yet."

  “I know," Anne said. "I really shouldn't have spoken up. I somehow knew you knew it. But I had to get things clear."

  Esther paused for a long time and tapped her foot on the pavement. "Will you give me some time?" she said.

  "I don't know if I can," Anne said. "I want to, but I'm afraid."

  "Are you seeing that other girl tonight?" Esther said guiltily.

  "Yes," Anne said. "I'm staying with her for a while."

  "When can I see you?"

  "Sunday morning," Anne said.

  "But I can't—" Esther said. She was plainly torn. />
  "Are you always going to do what Carl tells you to do?" Anne said.

  Esther was silent and then said, "Maybe Sunday, then."

  "I’ll wait at the Florentin from ten to eleven," Anne said.

  They got up from the bench. It was time for Anne to go back to work.

  "Are you walking me back?" she asked.

  Esther looked at her watch. "I'm sorry, I can't."

  "That's all right," Anne smiled. "See you Sunday." She extended her hand and Esther took it and held it tightly for a moment. Her eyes were unsure, elsewhere.

  Anne forced herself to turn away and walk down the path. She would leave the park and take a taxi back. She was late.

  CHAPTER 9

  By late afternoon the work was cleared away and Phil left at four. Anne waited another half hour and then left. Juliette disapprovingly watched her leave but said nothing. Anne shrugged and mentally defended herself. She had often stayed in after quitting time when work was piled up.

  She took the subway because it was faster and stopped first at the A&P for groceries and then hurried to her apartment. Before entering the front door she looked hastily around to see if her father's car was parked anywhere. It wasn't in sight. Cautiously she entered the house and climbed the stairs to her door and entered her apartment with the same care. Mark might have given her father a key. But the place was empty—only Portia was there, much surprised to see her and very hungry.

  Anne put the groceries down, and petted her, and went to the refrigerator for cat food.

  While Portia ate Anne hurried to the closet and got out her two suitcases. She would take essentials over to Johnson's; Jacques would help her carry everything.

  The apartment frightened her now. It seemed dreadfully remote and easily stormed. She consoled herself that she could always leave by the fire escape if her father knocked at the door.

  She asked herself why she was so terrified of meeting him. She realized it was because she wasn't sure she was right. So many things had happened too quickly, and no one in the world seemed quite to understand her way of seeing things. Mark had called her sick, mixed up, incapable of knowing what was best for herself, and her father had echoed him.