by Ann Bannon
These were hard words, but even so Laura wasn't prepared for the effect they produced. Burr went pale and his mouth dropped open. Suddenly he stood up. “Jack said that?” he said incredulously. “Jack?"
And Laura went a little sick. She had violated a confidence, without even meaning to. The one person she couldn't bear to hurt, to alienate right now, was Jack. “Maybe I'm mistaken,” she said quickly. But who else could it be?"
"It was me, Burr, I don't know why I said that It wasn't Jack."
"Oh, it was you!” He had been surprised into a fury. He had been nursing his grievance, trying to talk calmly to Laura. Now his feelings got out of control. “Well, I'll tell you something, Laura. I don't believe you. It was Jack or you wouldn't have said so. You're a lousy liar. Now suppose you explain something to me.” He leaned with his fists on her desk.
Laura leaned away from him, frightened now. “Calm down, Burr,” she said, but he ignored her.
"You and Jack can both go to hell!” he said. “You've been psychoanalyzing the situation over a couple of beers in your spare tune. A couple of cocktail hour psychologists. Oh, don't think I can't see it. Well, I don't give a damn for what you think. I love Marcie!” He was shouting. “I love her! And I'd like to know why the hell she doesn't love me any more. Why, Laura? You tell me. Why would she rather stay home with you at night than go out with me? Why does she talk about Laura, Laura, Laura all the time? Laura reads this, Laura does that, Laura says! God, I'm sick of it!” His ugly suspicions exploded in her face.
"She doesn't, Burr, you're mistaken."
"Mistaken!” he roared, his face turning scarlet. “Mistaken! Oh, you're a bitch, Laura! Mistaken! And she won't make love to me any more. She won't see me. You're the only one she gives a damn about. She can't get enough of you at home, she's got to get you a job in her own office. Yes, she told me about it,” he interrupted himself, when Laura gave a little gasp.
"Burr, you fool, you're making things up,” Laura said. She looked cold and controlled, but there was a terror inside her that he couldn't see. She rose in her seat and faced him, their faces not a foot apart. “Now get out of here.” It had worked before with other men. It had to work now with Burr. She would give him no satisfaction. “Don't tell me you're not up to some God-damn funny business,” he growled.
"I'm not up to any God-damn funny business,” she replied quietly. “Then what's all this crap about touching tongues? In the dark? In bed? Why does Marcie follow you around like you were Svengali?"
"She doesn't."
"Don't tell me she doesn't!” he shouted in a fury, bringing his fist down with a huge thump on her desk. “I know she does. I know!"
"Burr, you're insane with jealousy."
"What's going on between you two?"
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I'm a bad liar, you said it yourself. If I had ever touched Marcie I couldn't lie about it.” She glared at him, her face a mask, almost white; her eyes brilliant and her body tense.
"You want her. Admit it.” He was quiet now, but it was the quiet of hatred. “I won't admit anything. Who the hell are you? I don't owe you any explanations."
"She's my wife."
"So she's your wife. She's my roommate. She prefers to live with me.” Laura was dangerously near throwing her advantage in his face.
Laura called after him until he walked into the last operating elevator and disappeared. She sobbed wildly for a minute, collapsed in her chair. Then, as if electrified, she picked up the phone and dialed the penthouse, as fast as her trembling fingers would let her. She almost died of impatience before Marcie answered.
"Hello?” Marcie said.
"Marcie! Marcie, what have you done to me? Answer me!"
"Laur?” Marcie's voice sounded small and frightened. “What's the matter, honey?"
"Burr just left me. I thought he was going to kill me. Marcie, what did you tell him?"
"Oh, Laura.” Marcie's voice was only the faintest whisper. “I had no idea he'd-I didn't think he'd bother you. I didn't think he'd even mention it."
"What did you tell him, Marcie?” Laura's voice sounded almost hysterical.
"I-we quarreled.” Marcie was crying quietly while she talked. “We quarreled, for the first time in weeks. It was terrible. As if to make up for all those weeks when we didn't fight at all. He accused me of-forgive me, Laura, I'm ashamed to say these words-of falling in love with you.” Laura groaned despairingly.
"Laur, I'm so sorry. I guess I talked about you all the time. I get interested in somebody, or something and I just don't talk about anything else for a while. I talked about you because I admire you so much. I-well, you know. He got the wrong idea, that's all. But I didn't realize it, I swear I didn't, Laur. I would have stopped him if I had. And then we had this quarrel tonight and I said some things I shouldn't have."
"What things? What things, Marcie?” Marcie sobbed. “He accused me of trying to tempt you, of egging you on. Oh, Laura, this is too horrible, I can't go on."
"Tell me!"
"And I got so furious. It was so unfair. You know we haven't done anything! He was just determined to believe it. He can't believe I just don't want to see him any more, that's too hard on his damned pride. So he was just waiting for somebody to blame, and there you were. And I was so damn mad at him. It was hopeless, there was no talking to him. He was losing me because somebody else was winning me, that's the only way he could see it. So I finally just shouted at him, ‘All right, have it your way, you big fool. Believe what you want to believe, I can't stop you!” She was interrupted by her own sobs.
"Marcie,” Laura said, making a huge effort to control herself, “Did you tell him that I...” She could hardly get the words out. “...made love to you?"
"No! No, Laura!” Marcie cried. “Did you tell him anything specific?"
"Absolutely not, I swear!"
Laura gave a sigh of relief. She began to cry again herself. After a moment she said softly, “Marcie, he's on his way to the penthouse. He says he's not going to let you spend another night in the same apartment with me. I'm infecting you."
"Oh, Laura, honey. God!"
"So you'd better lock the door."
"We don't have a key!"
"Get one from the janitor."
"I'm afraid of him. He's down in the basement. It's so dark down there and he always tries to make a pass at me."
"I shouldn't think that would bother you.” Laura couldn't help the dig; it made her feel better. “Laura, he's nuts. He's a meatball."
"Well, damn it, do something!” Laura cried, exasperated. Then she forced herself to speak quietly. “All right, call the police,” she said. “Say your former husband is threatening you. Say you're afraid of him, you think he wants to kill you. Say anything! Tell them he's on his way over right now and you want protection."
"Laura, I've never done such a thing in my life! Poor Burr! I've known him since I was a kid, I worshipped him."
"You stopped worshipping him in a hurry when you had to live with him. Listen to me, there's not much time. If you don't want him to do something violent you'd better get some protection. I can't fight him off for you. Unless you want to go with him tonight."
"Go with him! That bastard! After what he did tonight? He can go to hell. Without me."
"That's where he'd like to see me,” Laura said. “I'd better not show up. I'll stay down here for another hour or so. I'll call you before I come home, to be sure the coast is clear."
"Laura? I hate to call the police, Laur. It makes me sick.” She sounded miserable.
"Marcie for God's sake, you're a taxpayer. You're entitled to protection. Burr was in a fit when he left here."
Marcie began to weep again. “Laura, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry,” she said softly over the phone.
Laura's heart softened too. “Oh Marcie,” she moaned. “I guess it really isn't anybody's fault. Burr's still in love with you. None of us realized how much. He had to be jealous of somebody, and he knew you were
n't dating anybody else. We've all been pretty stupid about the whole thing. I just hope to God it blows over.” All of a sudden she felt powerfully tired.
"It's all my fault,” Marcie said. “Everything's my fault. I'll make it up to you, Laura, I promise."
"Never mind, honey. Just keep out of trouble tonight. I'll be home about ten. I'll call you first."
"Okay.” Marcie was still crying when she hung up.
For a long time Laura sat at her desk, staring into space. The windows were black, gold-spangled with the city night, and everything was still.
She got up, feeling weak and tired, and yet not desperate or frightened any more. Burr had no proof of anything. Marcie would deny everything. And if things went as it seemed they must, Burr would act like a crazy man and convince the police he was bent on violence. Marcie would be genuinely frightened and it would show. There ought not to be any difficulty about it. She got her things together and turned out the office light.
The hall to the elevator was bare and echoing as she walked down it. The elevator boy was silent, as if he too had been touched by the vast quiet of the night.
Laura walked out on the street. People hustled by, lights shone, cars honked. But it all seemed far away, not very real. Her senses registered only half of what they perceived.
Where shall I go? I'd better not try to go home for a while. Not till Burr leaves. Another hour, at least.
She looked at her watch: eight-thirty. She walked slowly, gazing ahead of her like a sleepwalker. I'll go somewhere where I can sit down and read, she thought. She bought a magazine from a corner stand and sauntered on another couple of blocks until she saw the McAlton on the next corner.
She almost exclaimed aloud, as if the hotel had been sneaking up on her while she marked time on the sidewalk. She stopped in her tracks to stare at it and then looked self-consciously into a shop window. After a few minutes she moved on to the hotel.
If I just sit in a corner, as if I'm waiting for somebody, they can't do anything. I'll just read this thing till nine-thirty or so.
A tiny unworded excitement knotted itself around her heart and stuck there, prepared to stay for as long as Laura stayed in the lobby. She didn't go over to the desk. She just sat down in an alcove on a leather covered sofa next to a fat middle-aged woman. She read until nine-thirty.
Then she got up and walked halfway across the lobby to the phone booths, entered one, and dialed the penthouse. Marcie answered. “Is everything all right, Marcie? It's Laura."
"Yes.” She sounded tired, reticent. “What happened?"
"Nothing. The policeman got here right after Burr did. Burr was yelling like a crazy man. The policeman took him out and told him to stop bothering me or they'd take him down and book him. He was furious. He cried. But he went. Damn it, he deserved it, after what he did to you."
"Are you alone now?"
"Yes."
Laura suddenly felt enormously relieved, “Thank God,” she said. “Will you be right home?"
"Yes. Right away.” She hung up and left the booth, putting some change in her purse. She felt much better. Burr was mad as hell, that was certain. But for the moment he would have to watch himself; he would have to be careful. Marcie was disgusted with him. Obviously force was the wrong way to get her back. And suddenly Laura saw her father.
Merrill Landon was about twenty feet from her, his face turned profile to her, talking to some men.
Laura gave a low cry, almost inaudible, and her heart stopped. The knot around it gave a tremendous squeeze, like a big angry fist, and stopped it altogether for a moment. It started again with a tremendous thump. She darted toward the little alcove, her face averted, but found all the seats taken. She stood facing away from him for a minute, her heart kicking wildly, wondering frantically what to do.
I've got to be calm, I've got to be calm, she said under her breath, but each time she said it it seemed more hysterical. She gulped convulsively and barely heard someone say in her ear, “Excuse me, dear. Are you all right?"
"Yes. Yes, thanks,” she said, her voice staccato, afraid to identify her questioner.
She shut her eyes tight for a minute. I'll just walk out quickly, he'll never see me. The lobby is full, there are dozens of people in here. He's not looking for me, he's talking to some men, he won't see me. I'll just walk out.
She took a very careful glance behind her. He was facing her now, but not seeing her, gesturing, talking, engrossed in his words. He would never see her. For a second she permitted herself the luxury of looking hard at him; his big maleness, his strong face that could never be called handsome and yet compelled interest. That face that almost never smiled at Laura since she was five years old. That face she was condemned to love.
Laura turned away then and began to walk toward the door, keeping her face averted, hurrying, her heart pounding as if she were running up a steep hill. Near the door she slowed down a little. I'll never see him again, she told herself fiercely. Just one more glance. It will have to last me my life. She turned around slowly, carefully, just five feet from the door and safety.
He was looking at her. Looking straight at her, as if he had been following her through the crowd with his eyes, not quite sure but wondering. For a split second Laura didn't believe it; thought he didn't really see her and was just looking that way. But then he cried, “Laura!” in his big rough voice, and her eyes went huge with fear and she gasped and turned and ran as if the devil were after her. She ran headlong, panicky, her heart huge and desperate, struggling to get out of her throat. She ran with all her strength and with an unreasoning terror whipping her heels, all the way to the subway. She never once looked back. People turned to stare, they jumped out of the way and she collided with a dozen of them. She almost fell down the subway steps and ran and dodged and shoved her way into the ladies rest room.
There, she fell on the floor, whimpering, crying despairingly, unable to lift herself off the filth of the black floor and completely unaware of anything but the hysterical fear that gripped her. After a while she felt hands on her shoulders and she gave a wild scream and sat up. A terrified Negress was bending over her, saying, “There now, there now.” Her eyes were all whites.
Laura panted, speechless, gasping for breath. She leaned exhausted against the door of a booth until her wind came back to her and then she tried to get up. The Negro woman helped her, handling her like heirloom china, watching her every second for fear she would take off on another fit.
Laura half staggered to the wash basin and turned the water on. She looked at her haggard face in the mirror and an attack of real crying, soothing relief with real tears, overwhelmed her. “Father, Father, Father,” she cried softly, her face in her hands.
"Can I help you, Miss?” the colored woman asked. She was scared by Laura's behavior, but fascinated. Laura shook her head.
After a moment's pause the woman said, “You came in here like a bat out of hell. You was out of your mind, honey, that's for sure. Was some sonofabitch chasin’ you?"
Laura put her hands down to look at the woman in the cracked mirror over the basin. She nodded.
"Well, I never seen a girl so scared in my life. Never.” She shook her head positively. “You better get yourself some help, honey. Is he still out there?"
At this Laura went so white that she frightened the woman again, who said, “There now, there now. Didn't mean to start nothin'. Don't go off like that again."
Laura turned around to look at her. And in her awful unhappiness she went to her and put her arms around her, to the bottomless astonishment of the woman, and wept on her shoulder. “I never had a mother,” Laura sobbed. “I never had a mother.” And her heart was broken.
The woman held her like a child and said, “There now, there now. Everybody's got a mother, even you."
"Nobody knows me. I don't even know myself. I don't know what I'm doing here,” she said brokenly. “I'm a stranger in this world."
"Well, now,” said the woman, �
��Everybody's a stranger when you look at it that way. But everybody got a chance to find a little love. That's the most important thing. When you got a little love, the rest don't seem so strange or sad no more. There now, honey, there now."
Laura suddenly shied away from her. “Don't call me honey!” she said, her face twisted with misery.
The Negro woman let her go, shaking her head. “You pretty sick, girl,” she said. “You need a doctor, and that's the truth."
Laura turned and walked out of the rest room on shaking legs. Outside she looked warily up and down the waiting platform. Only a handful of people were there. A train had gone through just after she entered the rest room and had taken most of the crowd with it. She waited in silence for the next train.
The woman came out of the rest room after Laura, She stood some distance from her, staring at her with a mixture of distrust and pity, until the train arrived and the crowd separated them.
Laura came home too exhausted to talk about it, to be embarrassed with Marcie about the fight with Burr. She was so full of her experience, so absorbed in her father, that nobody else seemed real. She almost fell into her bed, with hardly a word to Marcie, and lay there wrapped up in herself, crying quietly for a long time.
Things were no better in the morning. Somehow the enormity of Burr's accusation hung between them like a curtain. They could look at each other only furtively; they couldn't speak. They were embarrassed, a little afraid of each other, and it made them overly polite. All they said was, “Excuse me,"
"pass the cream, please,"
"I'm sorry."
Laura had the additional burden of her terrible flight from her father to keep her both silent and preoccupied.
She was unable to figure it out. She knew she didn't want to talk to him, to show him any forgiveness at all, to satisfy his curiosity about her-if he had any. She only wanted a glimpse of him; she wanted to reassure herself that he was still in New York, even though she knew he was. And she knew he might see her if she hung around his hotel. And she was ashamed that he should see her and know how important he was to her, even after his cruel denial of her. All these things were plain to Laura and yet when she looked back on the night before it seemed incredible. Especially her own terror.
