Another Kind of Love

by Paula Christian

The conversation glided effortlessly from general observations to specifics about Fanfare and the new job. It seemed to Laura that Madeline and Walter had her future very neatly in tow. It felt good not to have to decide anything. Good—and safe.

  At last the bellhop arrived with the key to Laura’s room and the registration card for her to sign. Her luggage had been placed in her room.

  “I don’t wish to seem rude,” Laura said after a short silence, “but I think I’ll turn in. It’s been a long day.”

  “Certainly, certainly,” Walter agreed. There was a touch of concern in his voice. “Anyway, you’ll be seeing a lot of Madeline these next few days. There’ll be a lot of things she can help you with in getting started—especially when Willy isn’t around.”

  “Stop yakking, Walter, and let the girl go to bed,” Madeline smiled. She extended her hand to Laura casually. “I’m going to enjoy working with you, Laura, even if it is only for a few days. Do you want me to call you in the morning?”

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  they were simply trying to be helpful. “No. No, thanks. I’ll leave a call at the desk. See you at the office around nine?” she asked with equal casualness.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, good night, then.”

  Walter walked her to the door. “Good girl,” he whispered. “She likes you.”

  “Did you think she wouldn’t?” Laura asked wearily, but she didn’t wait for him to answer. “Good night, Walter. See you tomorrow.”

  She closed the door behind her. She was grateful to be alone—

  and yet afraid of it, too. The best-loved person in the world can feel lonely in a hotel . . . and if you’re already lonely . . .

  Her room was a room; it was a “nice” room. It had four walls, a clean bathroom, and only slightly faded curtains. It had a view—an office building on the opposite side of the street. Laura looked for a radio but found none. Just a free TV set. Her luggage had been piled neatly at the foot of the bed.

  She opened the suitcases and began hanging her clothes. The bureau drawer contained the usual card listing the hotel’s regula-tions, and the Gideon Bible. Strange how she only needed three drawers now. In her apartment there had never seemed to be enough room.

  Entering the bathroom, she let the water run for a hot bath. She stared for a moment at her reflection in the mirror. She wondered vaguely what other people thought when they looked in a mirror. . . .

  Did they think they were pretty or ugly? Did they try to hypnotise themselves by staring into their own eyes with noses pressed against the glass, or strike poses alien to their daily habits?

  “What difference does it make . . . as long as it sells?” Laura said aloud to her reflection, and speculated briefly on why that phrase of Walter’s had remained so tenaciously with her.

  She tried to relax and soak in the tub but found that she couldn’t; she was too keyed up and overtired. So she just bathed quickly and returned to the bedroom and turned down the bed.

  As if the management wanted to be certain she would not forget that she was not at home, not where she belonged, the hotel name was printed on the sheets and pillowcases. Laura took this as an in-78

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  sult and turned on the television set as a small revenge. Only one station was still on. In between the commercials there was a badly edited and rather awful old horror movie.

  But it was better than the silence that surrounded her. Better than this impossible aloneness. She sat cross-legged on the bed and stared at the screen with all the concentration of a sinner at a re-vival meeting.

  A knock at the door startled her enough so that she gave a small cry, and then she laughed nervously at the state of her nerves. She crossed the room to the closed door.

  “Who is it?” she asked.

  “Walter.”

  She unlocked the door and stood back for him to enter.

  He walked in almost sheepishly and closed the door quietly behind him. “Anything good on TV?” he asked inanely.

  She laughed. “No. I’m just trying to unwind before going to sleep. What brings you out?” She walked over and turned off the set.

  He followed her and put his arms around her.

  “I’ve good news for us,” he whispered.

  Laura could feel herself tense up in his arms but tried not to let him realize it. “Wonderful,” she said, disentangling herself as nonchalantly as she could. “What is it?”

  Walter chuckled with self-approving mirth. “I can finally get a divorce. . . .”

  “Oh. Walter,” she answered immediately, “that’s wonderful.”

  Then she realized all that this meant. She was frightened suddenly.

  Walter would now want to marry her—and she couldn’t do it. Not now . . . maybe never . . .

  “. . . That detective agency we thought was doing nothing finally came up with proof that Edna has been fooling around. Now let her try to contest a divorce. Let her try to take the magazine away from me!” he gloated.

  “But the children . . .” Laura asked before she knew she was thinking it.

  “I’ll get the usual custody now—or at least, I’ll stand a good chance. Don’t you see what this means, darling? After the year is 79

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  up, you and I can get married. But till then we’ll have to be very careful. I don’t want you to be involved as a corespondent. I’m sure Edna has had her little spies out, too.”

  Laura sat on the edge of the bed. She wondered what she ought to do now. Just tell him she couldn’t marry him until she got a woman out of her mind and heart? She had a big mental picture of a declaration like this. She shuddered.

  Walter sat down beside her and pushed her back on the bed, very gently. He put his arm under her head and lay next to her, playing idly with her long hair, kissing her softly on her forehead and eyes.

  In between he went on with a narrative about their future.

  She wished he would go away and not touch her. Then she felt unbearably cruel and guilty. It’s not his fault, she told herself over and over; it’s me. He loves me—how can he know . . . ? He mustn’t know that I’m in love with someone else . . . a woman. Oh, God!

  she cursed silently. What a mess!

  “. . . you’ll love the kids, Laura. And they’re no problem since both of them are in private schools anyway and only home during the holidays. You’ll see.”

  Oh, Walter, she asked voicelessly, what can I do? How can I tell you?

  “. . . and that’s why I didn’t register you. I didn’t want it to look premeditated, I didn’t want Edna to have a shred of evidence that could be misused.” He sat up and laughed exuberantly. “I could hardly keep still while Madeline was there. I just wanted to take you in my arms and hold you and know that for the first time my being with you held a future instead of a checkmate.”

  “Are you going to file as soon as you get back?” Laura asked, hoping she sounded happy and knowing she was failing.

  “I’ve already wired my attorney. He can file without me.”

  “I can’t tell you how happy I am for you, Walter.”

  He turned and faced her slowly, his expression suddenly perplexed and serious. “For me?”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  “What about us?”

  “Oh, Walter . . .” Laura cried and covered her face with her arms. Suddenly she was weeping.

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  “Honey!” Walter said, shocked. “What is it? What’s wrong?” He took her into his arms and rocked her gently, whispering reassurances. Finally, she stopped crying and regained her control.

  As she dried her eyes, she scolded herself. Stupid! What’s wrong with you that you keep acting like some neurotic female just one step out of an institution?

  “Feel like telling me now?” Walter asked softly. He got up from
the bed and went to the chair next to it.

  “I . . . I can’t, Walter. At least, not all of it. Not now.” She managed to say that much and was grateful that at least her voice was even.

  “I gather that it has something to do with us.”

  She nodded. She searched for some story that would satisfy him and keep the degree of injury to a minimum.

  He said, “You don’t want to marry me. No. I’ll amend that for you—don’t say anything. You don’t want to make a decision right now about it. . . . Isn’t that it?”

  To her surprise, he smiled. “But, Walter, this is so sudden,” he mimicked good-naturedly. “Old maid jitters, Laura?”

  She laughed with him and nodded. “Something like that.”

  “Just answer me this, Laura. Is there another guy?”

  “No. Not exactly,” she replied cautiously.

  “But you have met someone . . .”

  “I’m not sure,” she answered with the half guilt of a half lie. He was making it very easy for her, being much more fair than she thought she deserved. She was so grateful to him that she felt like sitting in his lap and telling him that she would marry him, would be proud to marry him—but she couldn’t do it.

  “All right, darling,” he said. “We won’t talk about it anymore.

  Not tonight. I have a whole year to wait, anyhow, so no one’s rushing you. Besides,” he laughed, “I’m a pretty egotistical bastard.

  Somehow I feel sure you’ll end up realizing what a good deal you’d have with me. Some other guy might be younger—but he wouldn’t appreciate you as much or love you as much.”

  It was almost more than she could take. If only he’d scream at her, or snarl in bitter hurt! Anything but this trust and kindness.

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  been just half the man that Walter is, she thought reminiscently, maybe a lot of my present problems wouldn’t be plaguing me.

  Walter’s voice broke into her thoughts. “One more thing before I go back to my room.”

  She looked up at him, afraid that he might have guessed more than he was revealing to her.

  “No matter what you decide—now or later—I think you should plan on moving from this hotel as soon as possible.”

  Thank God! Laura exclaimed to herself.

  “If possible, find a roommate. I don’t want Edna to have any suspicions about you . . . or me. Not until the divorce is final. Stay here for a few days, but look around. A young single girl in the big city living in a hotel doesn’t sound as respectable in court as it should. If it comes to court. Will you do that for me? This isn’t the time to start being careless.”

  “Of course, Walter,” Laura said with relief and genuine warmth.

  He stood up slowly, walked to her, and bent down to kiss her softly on the lips. “Good night, then. Get some sleep, darling, and don’t worry about us.”

  She couldn’t answer him. She sat silent and motionless as he went to the door, blew her a kiss, and left.

  After several minutes it took all her control to relax and lie down.

  She didn’t seem to have the energy even to blink; she was exhausted. Then she felt herself falling softly into sleep almost immediately and was glad for the release.

  Good girl, she likes you, Walter had said about Madeline Van Norden. And Laura envisioned an enormous Madeline nodding and smiling approval. Something like the official laughers at the funhouse.

  Oh, I get along fine with women . . .

  Ginny . . .

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  Chapter 11

  The next few days Laura worked very closely with Madeline and hardly saw either Willy, who was going to be in charge in New York, or Walter. The offices that Walter had rented were being painted. He left it up to the two women to make all the other decorating decisions and purchases, and with the narrow budget he had imposed, it was taking every bit of ingenuity they could muster.

  Luckily, Madeline seemed to know the best places to find everything—from drapery outlets to warehouses of repossessed office furniture. She kept Laura constantly on the go.

  Laura had quickly sensed that she had an ally in Madeline—

  someone she could trust and be friendly with. Madeline had an offhand way of completely ingratiating herself without even trying, and it seemed impossible to Laura that anyone might not like her.

  Once or twice the old guarded feeling returned to Laura, but most of the time she felt very much at ease. The older woman’s responsiveness to Laura’s ideas was wonderfully reassuring. It became a positive delight to discuss the problems of writing for a fan magazine, or reminisce about her experiences with movie stars and studio executives. In fact, the amiability and informality of it all made work seem so much like play, Laura felt almost guilty.

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  in shape. As a sort of celebration they all agreed to meet at Walter’s suite for a drink—a toast to their mutual success.

  Laura was quite apprehensive about this celebration. She dreaded any opportunity Walter might take to ask her if she’d decided.

  She met Madeline in the hallway in front of Walter’s door.

  Without a greeting, Madeline said hurriedly, “Now that all the work is done, I suppose I won’t be seeing so much of you.”

  “Of course you will,” Laura said. As she knocked on the door, she realized it would feel strange not to have Madeline around.

  Walter opened the door, a half-sheepish grin on his face.

  “Hello, hello, you two. Come in and relieve this working man from his boredom.”

  They entered, and Laura suspected immediately that Walter had begun the party without them.

  He poured them each a drink and sat down rather unsteadily next to Madeline. “How’s the New York Fanfare Office? Beautiful?”

  Madeline looked over at Laura and with a swift glance silently conveyed a confirmation of Laura’s suspicions: Walter was drunk.

  “Of course it’s beautiful!” she returned, smiling. “Look who took care of the decorating for you!”

  “Haven’t you been by to see it?” Laura asked him.

  “No time, no time,” Walter said. He was very serious.

  Laura suppressed a laugh. “We only need one more desk and several filing cabinets. Everything else is ready for even a competi-tor’s inspection.”

  “Put a lock on the door!” Walter commanded with mock horror.

  Then he began a long monologue about his activities in the past few days. At any other time Laura would have listened, amused.

  Tonight Walter’s monologue didn’t seem very clever. She sensed that Madeline was anxious to break away. Once she caught Madeline looking at her watch.

  Finally, Madeline gave her a perfect opening to change the subject without appearing rude. It was nearly teamwork.

  “We’ve been rather busy ourselves,” Madeline commented.

  “That’s true enough,” Laura laughed. “This perpetual motion machine you attached to me hasn’t left me enough time even to look for an apartment.”

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  “Say,” Walter said, rising slowly, “I’ve been worried about that.

  What are we going to do with you?”

  He frowned slightly. For a moment there was silence; then Madeline said, “I may be talking out of turn, Walter, but may I make a suggestion?”

  An odd quality in her voice alerted Laura: she became tensely watchful.

  “Shoot,” Walter called from the bar.

  Madeline smiled. “I was just wondering if Laura couldn’t stay at my place for a while? Then she could take her time looking for an apartment.”

  Madeline took out a cigarette and lit it before she went on casually, “I’d hate to be in a strange city and have to stay alone in an im-personal, unfriendly hotel.”


  Laura could see she was going to be cornered into this. Actually, after a moment, it didn’t sound like such a bad idea. She did like Madeline, and it was made to order for Walter’s divorce problems, since it would give her a respectable roommate and apartment, at least for a while.

  “That’s very sweet of you Madeline,” Walter began, “but are you sure you have room? I mean, you don’t have to take Fanfare board-ers . . . I mean . . .”

  “Oh shut up, Walter,” Madeline commanded jokingly, “you don’t know what you mean.” She smiled at Laura. “How do you feel about it?” she asked. “I’ve plenty of room, and I don’t think we’d get in each other’s way. I’d appreciate some company.”

  “Well . . .” Laura hesitated.

  Walter looked at her with an expression of helplessness: it was an indirect prompting to accept. Laura resigned herself to the situation. She glanced quickly at Madeline, whose face showed a friendly amusement—as if she knew Laura’s position but also knew that if Laura accepted she wouldn’t be sorry.

  “It’s very kind of you,” Laura said levelly. “I accept.”

  “Good! If it doesn’t work out, I’m the kind of bitch who’s unnecessarily honest and I’ll tell you.” She laughed with tolerance of her own declared shortcomings.

  Laura thought it was best that she had accepted Madeline’s invi-85

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  tation. She could just see herself staying alone in this hotel, trying to sleep but tormented with thoughts of Ginny, remembering the feel of her, how sweet her touch. No. At least being with Madeline would keep her busy, would give her someone to talk to when the going got rough.

  “. . . who knows, we might even get along famously and have a ball. Right, Laura?”

  “We’ve done all right so far.”

  “How about moving in tonight,” Madeline suggested. “I was never one for putting things off.”

  “It’s a little late . . .”

  “Don’t be such an old maid,” Walter chided. “After all, you only have to pack a few things back into the suitcases. Shouldn’t take you twenty minutes.”

  Laura looked from Walter to Madeline. “Guess I’m outvoted,”