“No.”
“That’s how I feel. I hate beginnings, so we’ll pretend this isn’t a beginning.”
“It isn’t, is it?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean it’s a—” she hunted for the word— “a continuation, rather than a beginning. It all started days ago even if we haven’t been together before tonight. It started, before—”
Laura nodded. “Okay. Then let’s skip the beginning and get going in the middle.” She smiled and took one of Jan’s hands in hers, looking into her eyes.
“You’re very lovely, Jan.”
“Thank you.”
“You are. Your hair and your face—”
She started to say, “So are you,” but it seemed silly and clumsy and not the thing to say at all.
“Jan—”
“What?”
“Jan, this is a crude question but I’m a pretty crude gal sometimes. Have you been here before?”
“Here?” She looked around the apartment vaguely.
“Not here, idiot. I mean have you been with a girl before.”
“Oh—”
“Not well put, I admit. I’m not much of a poet, and if you want me to mind my own business—”
Jan smiled quickly. “I just didn’t understand. I don’t mind, Laura. I’ve never . . . been with a girl before, no.”
“I didn’t think you had.”
“And I thought you would know. Do you see what I mean? It’s not a beginning. We already know a lot about each other.”
“I know. Were you ever—”
“With a man? Once. It wasn’t good at all, Laura.”
“Just once?”
She nodded.
“When was that?”
“Over a year ago.”
“I see.”
She paused and looked away, and Jan wondered what was the matter. Didn’t Laura want her now?
Without looking at her Laura said, “Jan, it doesn’t have to be tonight.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I mean it could be tomorrow. Or the night after. Whenever you’re ready.”
“I’m ready tonight. You might not want me tomorrow.”
“Silly,” she said, grinning. “I’ll always want you, you little idiot. But maybe you want to sleep on it.”
She shook her head from side to side, her eyes wide open. “No,” she said, slowly. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep. If I went home now I’d lie awake all night. I love you, Laura.”
“God.”
And then, “I want to kiss you.”
She wants me, Jan thought. And she closed her eyes and raised her face to be kissed.
Laura’s lips pressed against hers and she was amazed that lips could be so soft, so wonderfully gentle. Instinctively she let her arms slip around Laura and drew the girl down to her. Laura kissed her again, more insistently this time, and Jan returned the kiss, loving the taste of Laura’s mouth on her mouth and the tenderly beautiful pressure of Laura’s breasts against her own.
“You’re so beautiful,” Laura was saying. “So beautiful. I love you, Jan.”
And they were kissing again. Jan moved her mouth against Laura’s with real passion now, a passion totally new to her. Her body was trembling with the sensations flowing through it and with the realization that the same sensations were happening to Laura, that each was loving and being loved.
“Jan.”
Laura spoke her name half in a whisper, half in a moan. Jan was unable to answer and only nodded.
“This way.”
Laura stood up, helping her from the couch and down the little hallway to the bedroom. Jan walked with her eyes open but saw nothing, her hand warm in Laura’s as she walked. She didn’t see the bedroom, didn’t see Laura close the door or turn off the light.
“Jan, I want to do everything for you tonight. This will be your night, darling. Stand very still now. I want to undress you.”
Laura released her hand and she stood alone in the darkness, feeling as though she were suspended in mid-air. Then she felt Laura’s hands on her body, just barely touching her, removing her clothing deftly and gently and urgently. The touch excited her and anticipation coursed through her body. Moments later she was naked and then Laura’s hands left her body and the sensation of suspension in air returned more strongly than before.
Catch me, she thought. I’m falling, but I’m falling so slowly that there’s plenty of time.
There were rustling sounds while Laura undressed. Then Laura was guiding her gently to the bed, pulling back the covers and settling her upon the cool bedsheet. Laura lay down beside her and their bodies touched and she gasped involuntarily.
Laura kissed her.
“Laura, I don’t know what to do! You have to tell me what to do!”
There, was a moment of near-silence while Laura caught her breath. “Shhhh,” she whispered. “Don’t do anything, darling. Just love me.”
Laura was kissing her again and Jan was floating in air. She was floating upward now, not falling but floating with her whole body alive and awake and her breathing short and hard and her heart pounding desperately.
Nothing mattered now—nothing but the moment and Laura, and Laura loved her and the moment was perfect.
She remained for a long while in Laura’s arms. She felt as though she had come to the end of a long journey, a trip she had been taking for the whole of her life.
In a thousand books a thousand girls had said, I didn’t know it could be like this. Still the phrase kept running through her mind, over and over. Because it couldn’t be like this, nothing could be like this, and she was so lucky and so happy.
“I love you,” she whispered.
Later, they fell asleep with their arms around each other.
11
SHE DIDN’T MOVE IN with Laura at the Minetta Street apartment. Laura had asked her to and she had almost accepted, thinking how good it would be to be with Laura all the time, to live with her and share everything between the two of them. But in the end she had decided against it.
The main reason, of course, was that her rent was paid and there was no way to get it back. Ruthie had paid three months’ rent to the landlord and she had paid the same to Ruthie, and the money was gone whether she lived there or not. True, it would cost the same amount either way, but she also wanted the opportunity to have some time to herself and a certain amount of privacy. Laura’s apartment was nicer than hers, but it was also good to have a place of her own, an apartment that was simply hers where she could keep her things and receive her mail.
It was the first time she had ever lived alone. She wanted to give herself time to see what it was like.
Now it was a few minutes after seven. She and Laura had eaten dinner in a small Italian restaurant on Christopher Street with candles on the table and soft recorded music. Laura knew just what to order and what wine went with what food, and Jan admired her for this. Part of it was inevitable, of course; there are certain things one is more likely to learn in Westchester and in expensive schools than in Rushville and Indiana University.
But there was more to it than that. Laura always knew the right thing to do and the right words to say. They were not far apart in age, but Laura made Jan feel years younger in comparison.
Laura didn’t work. For awhile she had, but now her mother supported her. Once a month a check arrived in a plain envelope, with no letter to accompany it. Every month Laura deposited the check to her account and drew on it. She always spent less than she received and the account grew steadily.
“Won’t you ever work again?” Jan had asked.
“Why? She feels it’s her duty to support me and I’m perfectly willing to let her do her duty.”
When Laura said it the logic was clear. But now Jan wondered. It was easy—living on an allowance, never working and never worrying about money. But where was Laura headed? She would go on living the same life forever, never moving toward a concrete goal, never a part of anythi
ng larger than herself.
But that wasn’t quite it either. For, by the same token, that was the life she herself had selected. Her father was supporting her and she didn’t have the slightest intention of getting a job. She and Laura were limited—they weren’t cut out to be career women and they were obviously not about to get married. All they were equipped for was love, and unfortunately there wasn’t much money in love.
But was love enough?
It was. God, it was more than enough, more than the world. She could never doubt the importance or magnificence of it, not after the first night or Monday morning or Monday night or that morning. Not after the experience of waking up without feeling lost or alone, not after opening her eyes for the first time and knowing instantly who she was and where she was and what she was doing there. Not after turning in the bed and seeing Laura lying beside her, looking at her with love.
Not after those things.
Now it was Tuesday. They had been together for almost two glorious days.
She was sitting in the living room smoking a cigarette, wondering whether she should wait any longer before going to Laura’s apartment. She still wanted very much to be with Laura; at the same time she could use a few minutes more to relax by herself and get organized.
And she wanted to change her clothes. She had to dress differently as often as possible so that Laura could never tire of her and would go on wanting her and wanting to be with her forever. She stubbed out her cigarette in an ashtray and hurried to the bathroom, wondering what to wear.
Nothing too fancy, she decided. But nothing too casual either. Something just right, something that would suit her mood and the decor of the apartment.
Above all, something Laura would like.
She picked out a gold-colored paisley print outfit, the skirt flaring out in great splashes of color, while the low-cut blouse showed off her figure.
A few minutes later she was back again in the comfortable chair in the living room, smoking another cigarette and waiting for time to pass. She was going to be waiting for a lot of time to pass, she reflected. She wouldn’t go back to Indiana when the summer ended. She might stay in the Barrow Street apartment. If Ruthie wanted the place back she would move in with Laura. At any rate she would stay in New York, but she certainly had to find something to do or she would go stir-crazy.
Work was out for the time being. She could always take courses toward a master’s degree at NYU, but she didn’t want a master’s in the least and the thought of a classroom was not appealing. She ought to try writing again—the poetry she’d written at school hadn’t been too bad. Or drawing or painting, maybe. She wasn’t too great at either, but she wasn’t terrible and she could improve. At least she could be doing something and that was important.
Laura spent her time reading. Laura devoured books by the ton, buying them in carload lots from the bookstores on Fourth Avenue and churning through everything from sociology to ancient history, from economics to Chinese calligraphy. Laura talked about writing sometimes, but she said it as though it didn’t really matter very much one way or the other and Jan doubted that she would ever get around to it. But she was always busy, always doing something and always very intent upon what she was doing.
It was almost time. As soon as she finished the cigarette she would walk to Minetta Street and Laura’s apartment. They would talk first. Laura knew so much and understood so many things that there would always be new topics for them.
They would never have to spend their time the way so many girls like them did. Drinking at The Shadows. Sitting up nights at gay parties chattering and drinking and waiting to crawl into bed. As long as they had enough within themselves and within their relationship, everything would be perfect. The sad gay girls were the ones who were empty inside.
When the buzzer rang she pressed the answering buzzer automatically without pausing to wonder who it might be, her mind wrapped up in her thoughts. When there was a knock at the door she answered it without quite realizing that someone was coming to see her.
It was Mike.
For a moment she didn’t recognize him. She couldn’t understand what he was doing there. She had hardly thought of him since his last visit on Sunday and it seemed to her as though he should know by now that she wasn’t at all for him, that she had gone over the ridge into the darkness and that she did not need him at all.
“Did I give you enough time?”
“What?” She didn’t know what he was talking about.
“Enough time to think about it? I told you to take your time and I wondered whether you made up your mind yet or not.”
“I—”
“To go out with me. That’s all.”
Of course she didn’t want to go out with him. She didn’t want to see him at all, didn’t want to think about him or to have him think about her. This sort of mess had happened once before in Indiana with Philip Dresser and that time it took her weeks to get rid of him. But she had to get through to Mike.
“Come in,” she said.
She closed the door after him and followed him to the living room. When he sat down on the couch she remained standing, nervous and jittery and not knowing exactly where to start.
“Mike,” she began.
“No decision yet?”
“No. I’ve decided.”
“And?”
It wasn’t going well at all. She had to tell him bluntly and swiftly or it would just drag on until he was back again in a few days. And that wasn’t what she wanted.
“Mike,” she said.
She paused and he stared at her.
“I don’t want to see you again.”
He didn’t seem to understand or to accept what he had heard. She wanted to leave it at that but she couldn’t. She had to get through to him.
“It’s better that way,” she went on. “I can’t tell you why exactly but it is. I just can’t see you again. If I could explain it you wouldn’t want to see me at all. Do you understand what I mean?”
“No. Not at all.”
“But you’ve got to understand. Look, I know that you want me very much. Is that right?”
He said, “That’s right.” He started to say something else but stopped himself.
“And right now you just want to see me, but if you see me you’ll want more. Won’t you?”
He tossed his head impatiently. “Jan,” he said, “I don’t know what kind of guy you went with last, but I don’t have sex on the brain. Can’t you see that? I—”
“I don’t think either of us is talking about sex.”
He was silent.
“I mean love.”
There was a long pause.
“All right,” he said at last. “I think I’m in love with you.”
“You think so. But you’re not. You don’t really know me.
“You won’t give me a chance.”
“Mike,” she said, “if you knew me you wouldn’t be in love with me.”
“Jan, you’re talking in riddles.” His voice rose. “I have to see you. Why can’t you give me a chance? Why?”
God, she thought. This is unbearable. God, I’m going to hurt him and there’s absolutely nothing else I can do.
And she said, “Because I could never possibly love you, Mike. I couldn’t possibly want to see you or be with you. Not ever.”
He leaned forward and rested his head in both hands. Neither of them said anything for several minutes! When he spoke his voice was husky.
“Jan, are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Jan, I—”
“I’m positive, Mike.”
Silence.
“I guess that’s all then.” He stood up and started for the door.
“Mike—”
He turned.
“I...I like you very much.”
“Cut it, will you?”
“I mean it. And Mike, someday you’ll find someone.”
When she said the last sentence he stopped still in h
is tracks with his hand outstretched for the doorknob. “You know,” he said hollowly, “there’s absolutely no answer to that one. The only thing I could say is I already have, and that’s pretty corny.”
Then he was through the door, slamming it hard behind him. The outer door banged shut seconds later and he was walking down the street swiftly with his hands plunged deep in the pockets of his dungarees. She watched from the window until he turned up Seventh Avenue and disappeared from view.
When she entered the apartment Laura was sitting on the sofa reading. She looked up and smiled, putting down the book and walking toward Jan with her arms outstretched. Jan went to her and they kissed, and Jan relaxed for the first time since Mike stormed out of her apartment.
Laura stepped back. “What’s the matter, dear?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“Because you’re shaking, idiot. Tell me about it.”
Sitting next to Laura on the sofa she said, “Mike was over to the apartment.”
“What happened?”
“I got rid of him.”
“That’s good. How?”
“I told him I didn’t want to see him again. I said I didn’t love him and I never could.”
“Did you tell him why?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, did you tell him you were gay?”
She was stunned. It had never even occurred to her, and although it was the obvious way, the way that could end things immediately between them, it seemed somehow out of the question.
“No,” she said. “I didn’t tell him that.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t even think of it.”
“That would have been the best way, Jan. Is he in love with you?”
“I think so.”
“Then he’ll be back. You’ll have to tell him next time.”
She hesitated. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t think I could tell him.”
Laura looked away. “Honey,” she said, “are you ashamed of what you are?”
“Don’t be silly. I just—”
“Of course you’re ashamed. It’s only natural at this point. But you’ve got to get over it, Jan. It’ll only keep you miserable.”
Strange Are the Ways of Love Page 10
