Chapter VIII: Part 8

Shame colored Laura’s cheeks pink and she said warmly, “I’m not a child, Beebo, and I didn’t come back here just to run off and leave you again. I gave up too much to come back.”

“Yes, baby, I think you did. You gave up too much. It wasn’t worth the price, and you see that now. Admit it. Don’t be a stubborn idiot.”

Laura was appalled at the apathy in her voice. “What would you do if I insisted on staying with you?” she asked.

Beebo shrugged. “I’d let you stay, of course. I haven’t the ambition to kick you out. Besides, I love you still, in my way. I meant it when I said it.”

Laura stood up, unable to look at her any more. “I’m going back to the apartment, and I’m going to talk to Jack,” she said. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“I doubt it.” Beebo did not even leave her chair. She lighted a cigarette slowly, watching Laura’s back.

Finally Laura turned around and faced her. “Please, Beebo, don’t talk to me as if nothing in the world mattered any more. I can’t stand it, I can’t stand to think I did it to you.”

“Jack still matters, baby. Don’t do it to him, too.”

Laura went and got her coat and purse from the bedroom, and then she looked into the kitchen. Beebo sat with her back to the door, still smoking thoughtfully. “I’m leaving,” Laura told her. “I should be back around nine.”

“Sure, sweetheart. Tell old Jack I said hello.”

“I will.” Laura looked at her dark curly head, not sure if the frosting on her curls came from the kitchen light above or from the first gray hairs. She walked over to Beebo and kissed her cheek, leaning over her chair from behind. Beebo smiled though she did not turn her head.

And then Laura walked out, knowing somehow, deep within herself, that it was for the last time.

11

Laura approached the apartment building with her legs trembling. It was all she could do to keep from turning around and running. It was hard to imagine what she might find. She left Jack a desperate man, and her absence for two weeks would not have made things any easier for him.

She stopped at the front door to marshal her strength, and the chain link fence at the end of the street caught her eye. She marvelled that she had been able to climb it the night she ran away. It looked almost insurmountable now with the long shadows creeping along the ground beneath it. She touched one of the cuts on her arm, still healing, and wondered where her shabby guide with his friendly dime was now. All unaware, he had taught her a valuable lesson about herself and turned a spotlight on the lies until even Laura had been forced to see them and confess the truth. She loved Jack too much to hurt him, and she had come back now to heal him if she could.

That thought gave her the most strength as she pushed open the lacquer-red front door with its brass knocker. _If he didn’t need me so desperately, I couldn’t do this_, she told herself. _And if I didn’t love him so much, I couldn’t do it, either._ She pushed the button for the elevator and felt a thrill of shame and fear that almost made her sick. And then, out of habit, she glanced at her mailbox. It was so full that it could not be locked and the door hung open. Laura went to it and pulled the bundle of mail out with a sudden premonition.

The box had not been emptied for days, perhaps weeks; perhaps not since the night she ran away.

_Is Jack—is he gone, then?_ she wondered. For a second her weakness and humiliation overwhelmed her and she hoped he was. She hoped she would never have to face him. For she dreaded what she had done to this man who loved her, in his own odd way, more than he loved, or ever had loved, anyone else on earth.

And then, suddenly, she whispered aloud, “No! Oh, no! He’s _got_ to be here!”

She took the elevator to the third floor in a frenzy of impatience and crossed the carpeted hall to her apartment door swiftly. Like the mailbox, the door was unlocked, and that gave her hope. He wouldn’t go out and leave it open for any stranger to wander into. It wasn’t like him.

Silent and tremulous, Laura entered the living room. “Jack?” she said softly, knowing already there would be no answer. “Jack? Be here. Darling, please be here,” she murmured. Slowly and fearfully she entered each room, saying his name as she did so, and silently, each room revealed nothing but his absence. Never had a home seemed so empty. Never had her own voice awed and saddened her so.

She had been through all the rooms a couple of times, halfheartedly picking up a thing or two and looking with frightened eyes into the dark corners, before she spotted the note. It was rolled into the top of a whisky bottle, one of several sitting on the kitchen table. She picked it up with trembling fingers and read:

“_Laura darling._ I’m with Terry. I guess you’ve gone back to Beebo.
Maybe that’s fate, but I still think we could have made a go of it.
You’re my wife, Laura—that’s the difference between life and death
to me, even now. If you ever read these words, remember, I love you,
Mrs. Mann. And remember it too if you ever want to come home. Jack.”

Laura wept silently, her throat and chest painfully tight with it, crushing the letter against her neck.

She walked dazedly into the living room, still holding the letter, and stared around through her tears. She thought of Beebo and the warm, slightly worn rooms she lived in and the worn-out love she had left. And she thought of Jack. There had been none of his usual piercing sarcasm in the note. Nothing but gentleness, nothing but love.

After a long moment Laura pulled herself together. She sank down on the sofa by the table and picked up the mail. She felt weak, and she shuffled listlessly through the pile of bills and ads and notes and papers. Near the end she almost passed up one with Dr. Belden’s name in the return address spot. His name registered suddenly in her mind, and she tore his letter open with hands newly sprung to life.

She read only the first half of the first sentence:

“Dear Mrs. Mann. I am delighted to inform you that next November, if
all goes well, you and Mr. Mann will be parents, and....”

She fainted.

* * * * *

When Laura awoke she was lying on the couch with her head back and her mouth open and uncomfortably dry. Carefully she lifted her head on a stiff neck, turning it gingerly, and sat up straight. On the floor at her feet was the doctor’s letter. She picked it up and found her hands shaking so that she had to grab at it three times before she caught it between her fingers.

For some moments she sat there, her cornflower eyes enormous with shock. Finally she whispered, “I’m going to have a child. _Me._” A first hysterical thought of abortion flew through her mind, but she dismissed it almost before it formed.

“I’m going to be a woman. I have eight months to get ready and I’ve got to _be_ ready when it comes. I’ve got to love it and take care of it.”

Cautiously she stood up, and unsteadily walked toward the bedroom, one hand warm across her stomach. “Now that I know, it’s not so bad,” she said, speaking aloud as if to reassure herself. “I don’t resent it so much any more. Strange ... I’m not afraid of it. I don’t know why, exactly. Yes, I guess I do.... It’s Jack’s. It’s a part of him. It’s a way to make it up to him for what I’ve done.”

She reached her bed and raised her eyes to the windows, and the darkness and sparkle of the city outside. It looked very beautiful. Jack was out there somewhere. He had to be; he couldn’t have gone away, not this soon. His note sounded too much as if he were going to look for her, as if he knew he and Terry couldn’t last, and he would have to search her out and make her try again.

Laura swept some pajamas and shoes off her bed and sat down with a curious feeling of elation and exhaustion. She stretched out, still fully dressed, and gazed at the ceiling.

_I’ll find him_, she thought. _Terry was staying at the Bell Towers. I heard him say so. Somebody’ll know where they are._ She felt very tired and she was surprised to find that she was crying again. There seemed to be no reason for it, except that she was having a baby. And it belonged to Jack too, and that made her smile through the tears.

A little later, when she dimly realized she was falling asleep, she thought of Beebo, and the thought twisted in her heart like a pain and almost brought her awake again. But it was over for Beebo now. Her life lay in another direction. Laura had to save Jack, and somehow, in the saving of him, would come her own life and strength. She knew it now, and it gave her the first peace she had known in all the years since she had first realized that she was a Lesbian.

Only the lightest rustle of air awakened her. She opened her eyes. It was still deep night; the room was dark except for the small bedlamp she had switched on when she lay down. And yet she was wide awake, and she knew he was there.

Laura turned and saw him standing in the doorway to the bedroom, disheveled, his hands in his pockets, his round horn rims sliding down his nose. She came up suddenly on her elbow, so fast that her head swam a little.

They looked at each other in silence for a minute; first startled, then embarrassed.

“Jack?” Laura said timidly, the way she had whispered it to the empty rooms earlier in the evening. And again her own voice awed her into silence.

He straightened and walked slowly toward her bed. At the foot, he stopped, his hands still in his pockets, his tie loosened, his shirt a little gray. His face was serious and tense, as if he were quite ready to believe she was a mirage.

At last he spoke to her softly. “I’ve been coming back every night. I was hoping ... I thought you might....” He stopped, shutting his eyes for a minute as if to search for composure.

Laura sprang up to her knees on the bed and put her arms around him. “I’m here,” she cried. “I’m home, I love you, I won’t leave again, Jack.”

But he loosened her arms gently. “I don’t believe you,” he said. “I’m afraid to.”

“Believe me,” she exclaimed passionately. “Jack darling, please believe me.”

“We were going to leave for San Francisco Thursday,” he said, still slightly incredulous. “Terry and I. I promised him, if you didn’t come back.”

“When did he ever keep a promise to _you_?”

“I love him, Laura,” he reminded her.

That stopped her for a minute. She bowed her head and cast about desperately for something to say, something to convince him forevermore, as she herself was now convinced, that it was their only hope to make this marriage work.

“Jack, I’d have gone anywhere in the world to find you,” she said, unable to look at him while she talked for fear the sight of his face would make her cry again. “I’ve had to hurt so many people—too many—to learn my lessons. And I was hurt as badly as the others. I’ve made mistakes, ugly ones, and I’ve been selfish and silly. But I’ve been trying, I have, Jack! And I’ve been learning. I—I—love you.” She looked up at him now and for the very first time, in all their long acquaintance, she felt a pleasant flush in her cheeks at the sight of him. Him ... a man. She felt flustered suddenly, unable to go on speaking.

Jack saw it too after a moment, disbelieving it at first and then accepting it slowly, with wonderment. “Laura,” he said. “Do you still believe we’re just a couple of scared kids? Do you still believe we’re running away from the world by marrying each other? Do you think we’re going to spend our whole lives running after a love that doesn’t exist?”

“No,” she whispered.

“You’re still my wife,” he said softly, and put his arms around her now, at last, and made her tingle with awkward new feelings and unbearable tenderness. “Do you want to live with me again? As my wife?”

“Yes, Jack.” It wasn’t the passionate unreasoning yes she had flung at Beebo in desperation two weeks ago. It was quiet and intensely felt. It was a recognized necessity, but a beautiful one.

“For how long?” he asked skeptically.

“I’m your wife,” she repeated gently to him. “I’ll stay with you now.” There was a new sound, a new tone in her voice that caught in his heart. As for Laura she was once more bewildered by an unexpected tide of emotion that made it impossible for her to look at him. “Say yes, Jack,” she whispered. “Say it’s all right. Please, before I start crying again.”

He took her head in his hands and kissed her forehead and said, “It’s all right. It’s all right honey,” and suddenly they clung hard to each other and Laura began to sob with relief and joy. She could hardly articulate, trying to spill her lovely secret to him. “Jack, Jack, it worked. We’re going to have a baby! Darling, we’re going to have a baby!”

She felt his arms tighten till she lost her breath and when she looked up at him this time, with her face blotched and her eyes red and her lips curved into a smile, he found himself crying happily with her.

When he could talk, he murmured into her neck, “I saw the letter in the box. It came two days after you left. The damn thing terrified me. I swear, Laura, I couldn’t open it, I couldn’t even touch it. I wouldn’t even _look_ at the damn mailbox. I was hoping so much it would be true—and so damn afraid if it was you wouldn’t come back. That I’d lost you and you might have to have it alone and you wouldn’t want it or love it—”

“Oh, stop,” she begged. “Jack, darling, stop.”

And they fell back on the bed together, crying and laughing and touching each other’s faces.

“My God!” Jack exclaimed suddenly, aware of his weight on her. “Did I hurt you? You ought to take it easy, honey.” But she chuckled at him.

“If you knew what this poor baby has been through already you wouldn’t have a single qualm about it,” she said, smiling.

He stroked her face with such an expression of love that she had to shut her eyes again. “I love you, Jack. I keep telling you that. I don’t know why, it just seems like I have to. Like I really believe it myself now, for the first time. I love you.”

And he kissed her mouth then. It had never happened before but it was right and wonderful.

They lay in each other’s arms and talked and made plans. They talked about Beebo and Terry, about themselves, about their baby, about life and how good it was when you were brave enough to face it.

Laura was afraid of Terry still. “Where is he?” she asked.

“God only knows,” Jack shrugged. “I left him in his room at the Towers. I’ve been doing this every night since you left. No drinking, no cruising, until I’ve checked the apartment to make sure you haven’t come back. I just told him, ‘If I don’t make it back some night you’ll know she came home. Don’t wait for me.’ I don’t suppose he waited very long, either. He’s not the type.” He looked down at her, his face serious again and frowning. “What about Beebo?” he said.

“It’s over. She knew it long ago. I finally realized it, too.” She raised her eyes to his. “I’m not in love with her now. Maybe I never was. But I respect her and admire her. She’s amazing. And much stronger than I ever gave her credit for. I wish to God I could change some things—”

“Don’t play that game, darling,” he said quickly. “That’s the surest way to break your heart and lose your mind. Save yourself for now. And for later. Save yourself for me and the baby.” He leaned down and kissed her again and, silent and amazed at herself, she returned his kiss with warmth.

“Besides,” he added, whispering into her ear, “Somebody’s got to clean up the apartment.”

“I’ll take the living room. You can have the kitchen,” she offered.

“Thanks.” He grinned and pulled her close in his arms, and she didn’t resist him; just nestled against his warm body and relaxed in the circle of his strength, a real strength, a man’s strength. It felt very good to her.

“After all, we aren’t expecting any visitors today, are we?” he said sleepily into her long light hair.

“Not a soul,” she murmured. She wondered, in that violet twilight before sleep, how long it would take her to get used to this closeness with him. She was so comfortable ... more comfortable, it seemed, and more safe than she had ever been.

And they fell asleep together with the sigh of relief and hope that only the lost, who have found themselves, can feel.

Transcriber’s Notes

This text was transcribed from the unchanged reprint edition in the collection _HOMOSEXUALITY. Lesbians and Gay Men in Society, History and Literature_, Arno Press: New York, 1975. Materials from a later date than the original publication year 1959, such as series title, editorial information, or publisher advertisements, have been omitted.

The original spelling was mostly preserved. A few obvious typographical and punctuation errors as well as variations in hyphenation were silently amended. All other changes are shown here (before/after):

[p. 15]:
... have feeling?” ...
... have feelings?” ...

[p. 53]:
... knew it meant she had spend the day at Julian’s or the
Cellar ...
... knew it meant she had spent the day at Julian’s or the
Cellar ...

[p. 71]:
... the worst had been. Beebo was using it an as excuse to sit ...
... the worst had been. Beebo was using it as an excuse to sit ...

[p. 85]:
... fact that he was male and strong and full off affection for
her. ...
... fact that he was male and strong and full of affection for
her. ...

[p. 93]:
... play it that way, too. “Can I use your phone,” she asked. ...
... play it that way, too. “Can I use your phone?” she asked. ...

[p. 95]:
... Laura started at her, dumbfounded, for some seconds, before ...
... Laura stared at her, dumbfounded, for some seconds, before ...

[p. 96]:
... He slipped his coat off without a word, dropped in on the ...
... He slipped his coat off without a word, dropped it on the ...

[p. 97]:
... didn’t give a damn if they were married to not. She had
them ...
... didn’t give a damn if they were married or not. She had
them ...

[p. 98]:
... say. I was cold as hell with him. I tried to keep quiet about
it, ...
... say. I was cold as hell with them. I tried to keep quiet
about it, ...

[p. 113]:
... good mother to it.” ...
... good mother to it?” ...

[p. 142]:
... “Do you knew where he is?” ...
... “Do you know where he is?” ...

[p. 159]:
... “Did she ... every really love me, Milo?” Laura asked it ...
... “Did she ... ever really love me, Milo?” Laura asked it ...