Beebo Brinker Chronicles 4 - Journey To A Woman Page 15

  Franny came out of the bathroom a few minutes later with her clothes on. She walked over to Beth and spoke, facing her. “I didn't know I was muscling in on anything,” she said. “This Just happened, almost by accident. We weren't even going to sleep together. I feel as bad about it as you do, believe me.” And she gave Nina a dirty glance but it only made Nina laugh.

  "Thanks,” Beth told her softly, surprised at the dignity the girl had mustered. “But never mind. I didn't come for that, anyway."

  "For what, then?” Nina said cheerfully, going into the kitchen.

  "I want to go back to the Village tonight, Nina. I want to lee the places we missed last time."

  "There are quite a few,” Nina said ironically. “Couple of dozen, at least."

  "That doesn't matter. I want to see them all."

  "Laura, hm? Got Laura on the brain,” Nina said. She was fixing some frozen orange juice.

  "Yes,” Beth said simply.

  "Well,” Nina grinned. “I didn't make such a big impression on you after all. Did I?"

  "Let's forget it,” Beth said. The whole episode made her feel mildly nauseated. The sight of Nina no longer aroused desire in her—just regret and a powerful longing for Laura. She wasn't sure exactly what caused it—the other girl in Nina's bed, the fact that Nina held Beth's regard so cheaply, or Nina's selfish and peculiar pleasure in running people.

  "I have to find Laura,” Beth said in a flat, positive voice. “Will you help me?"

  "Sure,” Nina said airily. “Well do the town tonight. Franny, want to come along?"

  Beth expected a pointed “No” from the girl, but she said, “Yes, I'll come,” instead. Beth looked up to find that Franny was gazing at her, not Nina. Nina saw it too, and was not so amused. For what reason Beth never clearly fathomed, Nina dressed as nearly like Beth as her wardrobe would permit-same color dress, same style of shoes, similar white bag. Was it to show Beth that Nina could wear the same things and look better in them? Was it because she thought Franny was admiring Beth's clothes? Beth stared at her curiously but Nina gave no hints away.

  Chapter Fourteen

  IN NINA'S PHRASE, they did the town that night. Beth drank very little at first, but as the evening wore on the little mounted up and she realized, some time shortly after midnight, how tight she was. She was quite fascinated, as she had been before, with the people she saw. Many of them knew Nina and came over to talk to her. There was one pretty, rather boyish girl at the bar whom Nina had never seen before who caught her eye, and Nina kept calling her “Farley,” after a movie star she resembled, until Beth in embarrassment asked her to quit.

  The rest of the time Nina needled Franny. Beth was glad it wasn't herself that night. She thought she couldn't have taken it. She would have lost her temper in one big spectacular blast and that would have been the end. She would have had to walk out on Nina and maybe on her chances of finding Laura.

  For Nina asked everyone, all her friends, if they knew any Lauras. And some of them did, but none of them knew Laura Landon.

  "It's going to be all over the Village that there's a great search on,” Nina said. “Maybe that'll help yea."

  "Thanks, Nina."

  Toward two a.m. Nina succeeded in getting Franny on a crying jag and Beth told her indignantly to stop torturing the girl. But Nina laughed and said, into Franny's face, “She's enjoying it.” Whereupon Franny got up and ran into the ladies’ room and didn't return for a half hour.

  Beth had nothing to say to Nina. She was afraid any words between them would be angry and she kept quiet, answering Nina in monosyllables. Nina saw it and was both amused and annoyed. When she got drunk she liked a fight. She felt mean. At the very least she wanted to embarrass somebody.

  "You don't really think I give a damn if you find that girl, do you?” she asked Beth.

  "I don't care what you think."

  "You know something? I don't believe there is any such person as Laura Landon."

  Beth shrugged, determined not to get nasty.

  "I think you're just leading me on. You just want a free tour of the Village,” Nina said. And when Beth still maintained silence she went on, “You think you're something, don't you, Beth? Just because Franny has been eying you all evening."

  "Has she?” Beth was surprised. She hadn't noticed it.

  "Don't play innocent with me,” Nina said, and Beth wondered if she was jealous. Perhaps Nina had dressed herself like Beth in at least a partial effort to snag Franny's eye.

  But when Franny got back she slipped a little penciled note into Beth's hand under the table. Later Beth got a chance to read it. There was a telephone number and a plea for a call scrawled in pencil on lined paper. Beth smiled slowly across the table at Franny, largely for Nina's benefit.

  And just then she noticed, out of the* corner of her eye, the entrance of a woman whose face and manner captured her interest entirely. She was big, nearly six feet tall, wearing slacks and a man-cut jacket. She was a little over her best weight but strikingly handsome with the black-and-white hair—still mostly black—curling closely around her head, and light eyes. She walked with a slight swagger, her hands thrust into the pockets of her pants, and Beth wasn't the only one who turned to look at her as she made her way up to the bar.

  The bartender apparently knew her and fixed her something to drink in response to a nod she gave him. She stood alone at one end of the bar, seemingly preoccupied, although now and then she smiled at someone near her who spoke to her.

  Beth watched her, captivated by her manner and the world-weariness in her face, for five or ten minutes. Finally she leaned over to ask Nina who she was.

  Nina gave a quick glance at the bar, reluctant to turn her attention from Franny, and said, “Oh, God! Beebo Brinker. You don't want to talk to her."

  "Why not?” Beth demanded.

  "You won't get anything straight from her. I mean that both ways."

  "Do you know her, Nina?"

  "Hell, yes. Lousy bitch."

  "Why lousy?” Beth asked.

  "Oh, it's a long story. Leave her alone, Beth, she's no good."

  "She might know Laura,” Beth said.

  "If she does, Laura'll never be the same. They never are when Beebo gets through with them."

  "What does she do to them?” Beth said.

  "I don't know, Beth. Don't bother me about it."

  "I want to meet her,” Beth said stubbornly.

  "Okay, damn it!” Nina flared suddenly. “Go meet her, I don't care a damn what you do. She knows everybody in the Village. If Laura Landon is living here she'll know."

  "Nina,” Beth protested, “you brought me down here to help me find Laura.” She stared at her bewildered. “Now you don't want me to find her. Is that it?"

  "Go on, Beth. Go talk to her. It's about as right as most of the things you do. But for God's sake don't bring her over here. I can't stand her."

  Beth looked at her a moment longer, and then at Franny, who was afraid to talk to her. She turned on her heel and walked away from them.

  Beebo had found a bar stool and was sitting down by the time Beth reached her. Beth stood a little behind her, nervous and hesitant for a moment, and then she touched her sleeve. Beebo glanced up and to one side, seeing a girl there but not looking at her.

  "Hello,” Beebo said. Her face was nearly expressionless.

  "Beebo Brinker?” Beth said.

  "The same.” She didn't seem to care who Beth was.

  "Beebo, I'm looking for a friend of mine. It's urgent that I find her. Someone told me you knew everybody down here.” Beth knew she sounded breathy and frightened but her voice, her manner, were out of her control. “I was wondering if you could tell me where she is."

  Try me.” Beebo lighted a cigarette and Beth watched, mesmerized. Her gestures were perfectly masculine right down to the snap of the match, almost more masculine than a man's, carefully learned, carefully studied, tellingly imitated.

  "Well...” Beth leaned against t
he bar on one elbow, facing Beebo's profile. Beebo still had not really seen her face. She smoked, or drank from her whiskey and water, and gazed into the mirror behind the bar.

  "Well, her name is Laura,” Beth said, once again with the frightening feeling of exposing her love to laughter.

  Beebo's eyes narrowed and in the mirror she looked at Beth for the first time.

  "Do you know a Laura, by any chance?” Beth said. After a long tense pause Beebo said, “Laura? What's her last name?” “Landon."

  Slowly, very slowly, like someone moving in a dream, Beebo turned around and looked her full in the face. Her lips parted slightly and she studied Beth so closely that Beth involuntarily drew away a little, clinging to the edge of the bar for support. She felt suddenly weak, although Beebo's gaze was not unkind and Beth liked her face. It even seemed to resemble Beth's own in some ways, though Beth's was softer and smaller and feminine. Beebo, still in her early forties, looked like a college boy—gray-haired to some extent, but still collegiate.

  "Beth,” Beebo said, very softly, and it sounded like thunder in Beth's ears. “You're Beth. Beth! Goddamn! I never thought we'd come face to face, you and I."

  For a long bewildered moment Beth simply stared at her. “You know me?” she murmured at last. There was no other sound for her in all that noisy bar but Beebo's voice.

  "Know you?” Beebo grinned. “Honey, I know you better than you know yourself. I've spent the best years of my life hating you. You were the only real rival I ever had with Laura."

  Beth's eyes grew huge with astonishment for a moment and suddenly full of tears. She turned her head away, one hand over her eyes, and Beebo explained gently to her.

  "I met Laura when she first came to New York,” she said. “I thought I brought her out. I mean, I thought I was the first woman she had ever loved. Until she called me ‘Beth’ in bed one night. That was how I met you. Beth Cullison.” Beth looked at her again, unable now to look away. “That is your name, isn't it?” Beebo said. “It was. It's Ayers now.” “Married?” Beebo said.

  Beth nodded and Beebo gave her a little grin. “It figures,” she said. “Laura used to tell me about how wonderful you were, how kind you were to her when she was so young and scared and didn't know what she was. She never talked about you except with love. God, how I used to hate the sound of your name. Have you ever had a rival that didn't exist, Beth? Have you ever been jealous of a shadow, a snapshot? I could tear up the snapshots but there were always more. She had dozens of copies lying around. She showed them to everybody. When I gave her hell for it she said I should be glad we looked alike. And you know something? We do. I didn't used to think so from the pictures she had of you, but seeing you now ... Of course, you're pretty. And you're a woman.” She turned away and drank the rest of her drink.

  "Have something with roe?” she said.

  "Thanks. Scotch and water,” Beth said, still too shocked to think sensibly. Beebo ordered it for her.

  "So now you've come back to find Laura,” Beebo mused. “Why?"*

  "Do you know where she is?” Beth said eagerly, her heart floating over the things Beebo had told her. ‘Is she still living with you?"

  Beebo laughed a small private laugh. “No,” she said. “Not for the past seven years. We broke up long ago.” And something she left unsaid made Beth feel that, though they had broken up, Beebo still left love for Laura. “She was an extraordinary girl,” Beebo said. “I loved her very much.” And then she stopped abruptly and Beth knew she would speak of that part of it no more.

  "What happened to her?” Beth said. “Is she all right? Where is she?"

  "She's in New York,” Beebo said.

  Beth gave a sigh of relief. “Where?” she said urgently. It was almost a groan of impatience.

  Beebo swiveled in her seat again to look at her. “Why do you want to find her so badly, Beth? Who's Ayers? Doesn't he have anything to say about this?"

  "I—I left him,” Beth said. “It's all over."

  "Do you think it's such a good idea to take up with a woman just because you left off with a man?” Beebo said.

  "I'm gay,” Beth said quickly. “It was never right with Charlie."

  "Any kids?” Beebo said. Her skeptical eyes went deep and made Beth feel suddenly guilty.

  But she answered with a brazen show of assurance, “No."

  Beebo took a drag on her cigarette, watching Beth through narrowed eyes. “That's good,” she said at last. “You'd be in bad trouble otherwise."

  Beth had a momentary spell of sinking, of sickness, that made her shut her eyes and wipe her forehead with one sharp nervous gesture. The faces of Skipper and Polly were very clear before her during that moment.

  "Something wrong?” Beebo said quietly.

  "I—I guess I've had too much to drink,” Beth said.

  "Where are you staying?” Beebo said.

  "The Beaton."

  "Are you here alone?"

  "No, I came in with Nina Spicer. Do you know her?” She looked up at Beebo then to see if her reaction to Nina was as harsh as Nina's to her. But Beebo only grinned and said, “Sure I know her. Everybody knows her."

  Beth liked Beebo's face even better, now that it was becoming more familiar to her. She felt secure with Beebo, as if Beebo were a friend. It wasn't logical. Beebo had frankly admitted an unreasonable hatred of her of some years’ standing—something Nina had never felt. And yet there was nothing fishy, nothing odd and egotistical about Beebo.

  "How did you meet Nina?” Beebo said.

  "I wrote to her, after I read some of her books. When I left Charlie I came here to find Laura and I thought Nina might help me. She knows the Village."

  "Well, she can teach you a few things. But they won't have much to do with true love and happy endings,” Beebo said. “Still, I guess that's something to know. There isn't much true love in the world. Did she give you a few scars?"

  "A few, I guess.” Beth smiled a little. “Nothing I won't recover from."

  "Good. You're lucky. Now tell me one more thing. Since you won't tell me why you want to find her, are you sure you do want to find Laura?"

  "Yes. Absolutely.” She spoke ardently and made Beebo smile again, but such a different smile from Nina's! Warm and friendly and concerned, somehow.

  "What do you think it will accomplish?” Beebo said. “I still love her. I want her back."

  Beebo finished the drink she had before her and then she said gently, “Beth ... Laura is married."

  There was a moment of deafening silence between them and then suddenly it seemed to Beth as if the whole bistro was coming apart at the seams. She staggered a little and Beebo got up quickly from her stool and steered Beth expertly onto it.

  "You're okay, baby,” she said when Beth had recovered a little. “Don't tell me it never occurred to you. Don't tell me you never thought of it. Damn, you got married. It happens, you know. Here, drink this.” And she forced half a glass of scotch and water down Beth's throat.

  After a moment, when she could talk, Beth whispered, “I thought of everything. Everything but that. I thought she might have gone to Europe or somewhere. I thought she might be in love with somebody else. I thought she might have disappeared. I even thought she might be dead. But, God help me, God help me, I never thought she would be married. Married! I hate him!” She whispered the words with near-despair, too stunned even to cry.

  Beebo half lifted and half pulled her off her stool. “Come on, sweetheart,” she said in her hoarse low voice. “You're coming home with me. I'll tell you about it. Believe me, I felt just the way you feel now when I found out. But that was seven years ago, after she left me. I didn't think I could stand it but I did.” She spoke with a sweetness that amazed Beth in one so gruff and strange, and Beth clutched at her words for courage. She never thought to argue with Beebo about going home with her. She never even tried to stop and tell Nina where she was going.

  But Nina saw her go out with Beebo's arm around her and Nina sai
d softly to herself, “Damn!” She knew that was the end of her influence on Beth, and Beth had held promise for more pleasure. It was for that reason that she had tried to discourage Beth from meeting Beebo. Nina liked to control her visitor, and she loved to make love to her. It piqued her vanity to see Beth so easily slip out from under her only to go to someone she disliked and feared. With alcoholic malice she watched the two of them leave.

  Someone else watched them go: a small rotund man, balding, with bags beneath his eyes and an air of fatigue and boredom that seemed never to leave him. When the door of the bar swung shut behind Beth and Beebo, the small heavy man got up and walked slowly toward it and followed them into the night.

  Chapter Fifteen

  BETH STAYED WITH Beebo that night and they sat up and talked through most of it. Beebo told her about the two years she and Laura had lived together, what a paradise it had been at first, what a red hell it had become when Laura had fallen out of love.

  "She was looking for a substitute for you when I met her,” Beebo admitted. “When I turned out to be myself, not you, she was disillusioned. She held it against me, in a way. And in another way, after a while, I think she learned to love me for myself. But-it was never good enough. I was so much older; I'd done my running around and I wanted to settle down. Laura was It as far as I was concerned. The end of the trail. I was through looking over the field, through chasing after new affairs.

  "But for Laura it came too soon. She was too young. She hadn't seen more than a little corner of life and I wasn't enough for her. She needed variety, she needed to know other women, and that was more than I could bear. And at the same time, she needed security. Somebody had to take care of her, watch over her, provide for her. All of that. I wanted to desperately, but I didn't qualify. I was a woman and I was a disappointing lover to boot. She needed a man, one who understood that she was gay and would always be gay, and not interfere with that part of her life."