by Ann Bannon
"I'm forced to agree,” he said. “Let's adjourn. There's a jam session at Maxie's this afternoon."
"I thought you were flunking out of Classics."
"Oh, I am!"
"Well, maybe you'd better do something about it."
"That's your job, honey.” He pulled out a mimeographed list of names and places and questions and handed it to her. “Explain this damn thing to me, will you?” he said.
"All of it?"
"Well—the Peloponnesian War. I can't get the damn thing straight."
Beth gave him a skeptical smile and then she took the list from him. “Okay,” she said. She bent over the paper and began to talk.
Charlie studied her hair and the line of her cheek, his head resting in his hand.
"You see, Sparta was up here,” she said, and he didn't answer. “Do you see?” She looked up and saw him gazing at her.
"Mm,” he said thoughtfully and let his hand come down. He leaned forward on his arms and looked down at the paper. “See what?"
"Charlie, are you listening to me?"
"You won't believe this, but I am. I don't know as I'm remembering any of it, though. Let's go over to Maxie's, honey."
"And let you flunk out of Classics?"
"And let me flunk out of Classics."
"I couldn't, Charlie, even if I wanted to. Sorry."
"Do you want to?"
She smiled a little, wondering why he had put it that way. “I can't,” she said.
That's not what I asked you, honey."
"I have work to do."
"So do I. So does everybody. Don't you ever play,
Beth?"
"Charlie, I can't go."
"Half an hour?"
She laughed helplessly. “Ohhh,” she groaned, flattered, and gave him a deploring look. “No!"
"Half an hour it is,” he said. “Where's your coat?"
"Charlie—” she protested, but the situation struck her, and her laughter took the starch out of her protest. She did want to go. She obviously wanted to go. But she thought suddenly of Laura and her own good intentions, and turned cold. “Where's your coat, honey?"
"Upstairs. Laura was tormenting her. “Charlie, I—"
"Come on, we'll go get it."
"I can't go, Charlie.” She tried to make it sound serious and final.
Charlie stood up and pulled his jacket on and grabbed his notebook. He hustled Beth out of the lounge and down the linoleumed corridor to the elevator.
Beth leaned against the wall of the elevator while he pushed the button and it started up. “I wish you'd believe me, Charlie. I can't go."
He leaned on the wall beside her, one arm over her head, and looked down at her. “I wish you'd tell me why. You keep saying you can't go. Why can't you go?"
"All right, I'll give you a good reason. Mitch. What about Mitch?"
"What about him?"
"He called me this week, you know. Or didn't you know?"
"I know."
"And I turned him down."
"Um-hmm.” He didn't seem in the least perturbed. “Charlie, he's your best friend! I agreed to see you only to help you out of a jam. Not to go out and drink beer with you."
"Am I supposed to apologize for asking you out for a beer?"
The elevator doors pulled open and they walked out slowly.
"How would Mitch feel?"
"He expects it."
"He expects it? Well, damn it, Charlie, what are you up to? What is this? You didn't want any help on that final.” She sighed, but she was pleased. “Are you afraid to be honest?"
"You make it impossible, Beth. I suppose it's beside the point that I meant to be. I didn't organize the jam session.” He followed her into her office and she turned and faced him while he talked. “Mitch was honest with you, and what happens? You force a man to use his ingenuity, Beth.” It was the rare kind of compliment she couldn't resist. “Mitch says, ‘Beth, I'd like to see you again, will you go out with me this weekend?’ and gets a flat ‘No.’ So what am I supposed to do? Throw myself against the same brick wall?” He smiled at her and she had to laugh. “You can't say I'm not being honest now,” he said.
"Still, Charlie,” she said in a gentler voice, “it must be hard on Mitch.” She was arguing for Laura, not for Mitch.
"Look, Beth, we had this out together. We both wanted to see you, we had a big argument over it, we finally decided to leave it up to you. It was the only way. Mitch called first. Then I called. He knows I called. My God, I'm not keeping any secrets."
Beth said firmly to herself, I can't go out. But she didn't say it to Charlie and when she looked up at him her resolution began to falter.
"Now, where's your coat?” he said, lifting a gray one from the rack. “This it?"
"No. Won't you please give up and go away?"
"This one?"
Oh, Laura—I can't help it, I want to go...
"Hey, Beth?” A girl put her head in the door. “Oops, sorry!” she said, catching sight of Charlie. “You leaving?"
"Well, I—what is it, Doris?"
"Nothing vital. Entertainment committee. You can see ‘em tomorrow.” She grinned at Charlie and left.
"Well, that's settled,” said Charlie. “Which coat?"
"The tan one."
"That's more like it.” He smiled and held it for her and she slipped into it with the feeling that she was slipping into a trap. She expected to pay for it somehow, but at the moment payment seemed far off.
They walked briskly over to Maxie's and Charlie talked with her all the way, holding her arm, stopping her at curbs, leading her around puddles. Now she liked it and now it annoyed her but the curious excitement of being with Charlie overwhelmed her other feelings.
"Your friend Emily is over there,” he said.
"She is?” Beth was vaguely upset. She would rather have had her escapade unobserved, but better Emmy than Laura.
"Yeah. Bud's playing. He's got her hypnotized."
"It's a way he has.” And as a matter of fact it was true that he had held Emmy's affections longer than any other boy she knew.
"I'd like to know when that guy studies,” Charlie went on. “Jesus, I only study the bare minimum myself. He studies about half as much as I do. Every time I go over to Maxie's he's down there playing. Damn near lives there, I guess."
Bud managed to stay in music school by conducting all his practice sessions down in Maxie's basement. Everybody loved it except his professors. He saw them only on the rare occasions when he went to class.
At the door to Maxie's Beth tried to hesitate once more, in deference to her conscience, but it was too late. Charlie pushed the door open with one hand and pushed Beth inside with the other.
"Get in there, girl, and behave yourself,” he said.
She turned to glare at him and ended up laughing and doing as he told her. “One beer,” she said weakly. “One."
The music floated up from downstairs. Maxie had moved the band permanently to the basement in the interest of maintaining the public peace. They went down the narrow flight of stairs to a huge dimly lit room full of long tables and smoke and music. The tables were full of people and the people were full of beer, as a general rule.
Bud was regaling the crowd with a trombone solo when Beth and Charlie found seats in a booth, and Emily was sitting on the floor of the bandstand at his feet, leaning against the piano.
"See?” said Charlie with a grin. He helped her out or her coat. “Be right back,” he said, and went off to get beer.
Beth took out a cigarette and settled back to watch Bud perform. He stood with his head cocked toward the trumpet, building a duet for the clarinet to coast on. There was a cigarette jutting from his left hand and his shirt sleeves were rolled halfway up his long forearms. His legs were set wide apart and his right foot beat steadily on the stand beneath it. He belonged wholly at that moment to the melody and rhythm he was making, and Emily belonged wholly to him.
Beth studied th
em with the strange little prick of foreboding that Bud always inspired in her. It wasn't that she didn't like him; he was, as everybody said, a great guy. But he was no great guy to fall in love with. His eyes were always busy with other women and his head was full of music. He was crazy about Emmy, but he didn't love her. Beth didn't think he ever would. It wasn't Emmy's personal failure; he was just made that way. Some men are.
Charlie set a quart of beer under her nose and pushed her over into the booth. She looked up at him and smiled. He kept shoving until he had her pinned against the wall.
"Are you going to let me get away with this?” he said.
"Hell, no. I'm a lady,” said Beth.
"Beth honey, you swear too much."
"I know,” she said, “it's a defense mechanism."
He slid away from her and poured her beer. Beth felt the release of pressure from his body with regret. She watched him while he poured, wondering what it was that made her follow him, smile against her will at him, feel content just to look at him.
"Drink up,” he said, and gave her her glass. “Cheers."
The music stopped and Charlie looked up and waved at Bud. Bud put his horn down on the piano for a moment and nudged Emmy. They both smiled and nodded and waved. Charlie beckoned to them to come over but the music started again and Bud picked up his trombone.
Charlie put his arm around Beth and she was astonished at the force of her pleasure. She turned to smile at him and it came to her as a shock that their faces were so close. Charlie pulled her closer and checked her sudden impulse to retreat with his own obstinate strength.
"Beth,” he said, “do you know you bothered the hell out of me all through Christmas vacation?” She smiled away from him. “I thought about you all the time. And that's the God's truth, if I never told it before. I couldn't get you out of my head. Oh, I know what you're thinking.” he looked at his beer and gave her a chance to watch him again. “You think I've said the same thing to a dozen different girls. Well, I guess I have, at that. I even thought I meant it once or twice.” He laughed a little at himself. “Do I sound like a damn fool?"
"Yes,” she said, but she smiled gently.
He leaned toward her. “I wish I knew you better, Beth. I think there must be a lot to know about you.” He reached over and stroked her cheek with his index finger, and she pulled away, still smiling.
"Why?"
"Because there's so little you tell. You won't talk about yourself, honey. And yet you're talented, intelligent...” He paused. “You're beautiful, Beth. I say this at considerable risk to my ego."
She laughed and looked at him.
"You are, you know.” He reached into her soft hair and caressed her neck with his hand. “Will I have to resort to tricks to get you out next time? Or can I just say, ‘Beth, this is Charlie. I want to see you.'?"
"Try it,” she said.
"I will. Do you remember meeting me, Beth? At a party a couple of years ago? You were there with Don. Remember?
"Yes.” She smiled, warm and aroused.
"Do you know what I thought of you?"
"No, she said and shook her head, wondering at her wealth of monosyllables.
"I thought you were a beautiful girl who didn't know she was beautiful. I thought you were antisocial, too. I figured you for a born spinster. My God, I was blind! I remember wondering if some guy would have the sense to see how pretty you were and didn't give a damn that you were such a square. Or maybe liked you square. I guess Don did."
"We got along, for a while."
"God, isn't it funny how things work out? I had the eyes to see you with and not the sense to do anything about it. I guess I thought you were strange. I mean, it didn't seem right that you should be so wrapped up in books. Not you."
"Oh, I've always liked books.” She couldn't get a respectable sentence out.
"Better than anything else?"
"Not quite."
"I used to think so."
"They were an escape. They—filled an empty place. I guess you don't know about empty places, Charlie."
"I'm spoiled. I don't say that makes a better man of me. Will you tell me about the empty places, honey?"
It hit close to home.
"Can you talk to me, Beth?” he said gently. She looked down again, and he waited silently, watching her. “Hard, isn't it?” he said. “I remember when I was little I always used to say, ‘Can I go outside?’ and my mother would say, ‘You can but you may not.’ It's the other way around for you, I guess. You may, but you can't."
She looked up at him slowly and nodded. “I could, if it didn't matter,” she said, and then, as if she had confessed too much, she turned away sharply and looked down into the cool gold in her beer glass.
"Afraid of me, Beth?"
She smiled a little at the heavily initialed table top, remembering the way she had asked Laura that same question, and then she looked up, straight ahead of her. “No,” she said.
"Then look at me and say so."
She looked at him but it was very difficult to say it. It was difficult to say anything. She found herself just looking at him, wordless and wondering and excited. His arm tightened around her.
"No, Charlie,” she whispered.
"I think you are."
"All right, I am.” She swayed away from him but he followed her to the wall of the booth and held her fast. The force of the physical attraction between them overcame their sanity. They wanted each other with a violent desire; wanted to fit their bodies together to forge two physical promises. And still Beth fought him.
"Beth,” he murmured.
She turned her head and his lips trailed over her cheek until his tongue found the corner of her lips. And then she turned back to him with the music and the noise and the excitement giving them privacy, and let her lips part a little and give themselves to him. All resistance washed out of her. She put her arms around him and held tight to him and when he stopped in surprise to gaze at her, she pulled his head down again and found his mouth, begged for it with her own, curiously thrilled with the light scratch of his beard, pressing her breasts against his broad flat chest as if she had suddenly found an excuse for their being.
"Beth!” he whispered in astonishment, putting his head down on her shoulder and holding her hard, feeling her tremble. Her response was so unexpected, so strong, that it caught him completely unaware.
"Jesus!” he said, and kissed her neck. “Let's get out of here.” And sat up and started to pull her after him.
"Oh, no! No, Charlie, I—” She was frightened then, unwilling and unable to trust herself. They were safe in Maxie's basement; they couldn't do anything wrong. But Charlie had a car and he had an apartment, and Beth wanted him so much that she couldn't have put up a struggle. With another man it wouldn't have mattered; she had given up struggling long ago. It just didn't matter that much to her one way or the other. It was a sort of lost cause. But with Charlie it mattered enormously; with Charlie it had to be right. And the fear that it wouldn't be scared her almost as much as the growing feeling that it would.
"Charlie?” said a girl's voice. He looked around slowly with a frown. It was Mary Lou. “Hi!” she said. There was a boy behind her. “Freddie said there was a jam session down here. Well, Beth! What are you doing here?"
Beth mustered a smile. “Well—Charlie said there was a jam session down here."
"Uh—say, why don't you two sit down?” Charlie said to them. “We were just leaving. You can have the booth."
"Oh, there's room for four,” said Mary Lou, sliding in on the opposite side. “Stay a little longer. This is the last set."
Charlie tried to object but she said, “Oh, look—isn't that Bud playing trombone? And look at Emmy.” She turned to Beth with a disapproving frown. “Do you think she ought to sit up there like that? In public, I mean? It really doesn't look too good."
"I think it looks damn noble and romantic,” said Charlie with a sort of irritated amusement. “Mary Lou, you
worry too much."
"Look again!” said Freddie gleefully. “Maybe she's got something to worry about."
Mary Lou turned around in time to see Bud, flushed with beer and pleased with himself, give Emily a prolonged and melodramatic kiss. The audience offered some spirited approval.
"Oh!” said Mary Lou indignantly and the men laughed at her.
"That's nothing to worry about,” said Charlie. “That's normal. Hell, be thankful she doesn't feel that way about girls."
Oh, Laura.’ Beth shut her eyes and put her head down to ease the pain in her clenched heart. And then she felt the pressure of Charlie's arm around her and she began to quiver again.
"She's got to stop that,” said Mary Lou firmly, frowning at Emily. “It's just not fair. Not to any of us, especially her. Beth, can't you stop her?” she said earnestly. “I wish you'd talk some sense into her. I've heard all I want to hear about it. It's a campus joke. If she'd act like that right in Maxie's, I hate to think what she'd—"
The men leaned forward to hear what she said.
"Just talk to her, Beth,” she finished loftily. “As a favor to me.” Mary Lou had solid confidence in Beth. Beth was very sensible.
"I will,” Beth said, and it was all she had strength to say.
Charlie got out of the booth and stood up, pulling Beth after him.
"We're leaving,” he said firmly.
"Oh, why?” said Mary Lou. “Dinner isn't for another half-hour, Beth."
"It'll take me half an hour to get her back to the house,” said Charlie with a grin, and they laughed at him.
"Okay,” Mary Lou sighed. “See you later."
Beth felt a mounting sense of alarm outdistanced only by her rocketing desire. She tried feebly to protest again, but Charlie was too much for her; his utter refusal to let her intimidate him, his gentleness, his strength, his passion and her own overpowered her. She let him take charge of her.
Charlie put an arm around her and led her the three blocks to his apartment. She knew where they were going though she had never been there. They said very little to each other but when they stopped at street corners or turned and looked at each other their hearts started up again. Just inside the apartment door she stopped and turned back, the so-familiar doubts back in her heart “Mary Lou?” she said.
