Beebo Brinker Chronicles 3 - Women In The Shadows (19 page)

"Laura, how'd you do it?” He grinned at her.

"I didn't have to,” she said. “The day you walked out of his life all the good things walked in."

"Including you?” Terry asked.

"Including me,” she shot back.

"Oh.” He smiled ruefully. “I wasn't that bad, was I?” he asked Jack. He seemed to think it was comfortably funny, like everything else connected with Jack. “Did I drive you to drink, honey?” he said.

"Only on the bad days,” Jack said. “Unfortunately, there weren't any good days."

Terry laughed and stuck another nut in Jack's mouth.

"That's all,” Jack told him, wincing. “The damn pecans sound like depth charges when I chew.” He stroked his head carefully.

There was a silence while Terry ate, Laura stared at him nervously, and Jack concentrated on his pains. Laura wanted to make Terry uncomfortable, self-conscious. But it was nearly a lost cause.

"What's for dinner?” he asked suddenly, unaware that he was supposed to notice the silence.

She told him.

"Great,” he said. More silence. Laura was determined to embarrass him, and Jack was too ill to care about conversation. Slowly, Terry began to realize something was amiss. Rather than take the hint he tried to lighten the atmosphere with chatter.

[[How do you like the married life, old man?” he asked.

"He liked it fine the day before yesterday,” Laura said crisply. Jack groaned. Terry understood.

He sat up and leaned toward his hostess. “Laura, honey, I don't want to mess things up for you,” he said. “I just love Jack, too, that's all. You know that. You always knew it, even before you got married."

"I know you nearly killed him,” she said quietly.

"No fair exaggerating."

"No fair, hell. It's true!” she exclaimed.

"It's not either!” he said with good-humored indignation, as if they were playing parlor games. “Is it, Jack?"

But Jack, his eyes on Laura now, kept silent.

"Well,” Terry admitted, “I was pretty bitchy sometimes. But so was he. And no matter what, we loved each other. Even at the end, when he kicked me out."

"If he hadn't kicked you out that night he might have killed himself with liquor."

"I don't believe it"

Laura threw her hands up, exasperated. “What more do you want from Jack, Terry?” she said. “What do you want from me?"

Terry grinned. “Equal time,” he said, nodding at the bedroom.

Jack laughed weakly and Laura got up and stamped her foot. “Terry, Jack loves you. I know that and I'll have to live with it. But that love is destructive, and I'm asking you now to get out of our lives forever and never come back to hurt us again.” She said it with quiet intensity.

"Before dinner?” he asked.

"Oh, God!” Laura spluttered at the ceiling.

Terry lighted a cigarette for Jack, who had fumbled one from the box on the cocktail table, and told Laura, “I can't go away forever. Any more than you could desert Beebo forever. I love him. I'm stuck with him."

"I've left Beebo,” she said.

"You'll go back,” he told her serenely. “It was that kind of affair."

Laura held on to her self control as her last and dearest possession. She didn't dare to lose it. ‘Take me seriously, Terry,” she begged, almost in a whisper. “Please let us live together in peace."

Terry shrugged. He didn't like to get serious. “What are you going to do the rest of your lives?” he asked them. “Live like a couple of old maids in your fancy little apartment? Pretend you're both straight? What a kick!” He said it sarcastically but without malice. “A kick like that won't last long, you know."

"It's not a kick. It's something we both need and want,” Laura said earnestly.

"Nuts,” Terry said amiably. “What you both need and want is a few parties. Get out and camp. Do you good."

"Sure,” Laura said sharply. “So you make love to Jack and he goes out and drinks a fifth of whiskey, after eight months on the wagon. Was that what you had in mind?"

Terry made a little grimace of perplexity. “That was pretty silly,” he told Jack. “Now she won't let me see you at all."

"He needs me more than he needs you, Terry,” Laura said.

"Yeah? But he wants me more.” He grinned at her. “You've got to admit that counts for something,” he told her. “I can give him something you can't give him.” He looked so smug, so sure of himself, that Laura, with her heart in her throat, decided to pull her rabbit out of the hat. If it didn't work, she would have to give up.

"And I can give him something you can't give him,” she said, her voice low and tense. “A child."

There was a long stunned silence. Jack and Terry both stared at her—Jack with a slight smile of amazement and Terry with open-mouthed dismay.

"A child!” Terry blurted finally. “Don't tell me! I wasn't born yesterday."

"It's true,” Laura spat at him. “And I'm not going to have any empty-headed, pretty-faced queers hanging around my baby! Not even you, Terry Fleming."

Terry turned to gape at Jack, his mouth still ajar. “She's kidding!” he exclaimed. “Isn't she?"

Jack paused slightly and then shook his head, and the strange little smile on his face widened. It was brilliant, he thought. Cruel, to himself even more than to Terry, because it wasn't true. But clever.

Terry stood up, bewildered, and walked around the living room. Laura watched him, her face flushed, sweating with expectation. Finally Terry turned to look at them. Jack, raising himself on one elbow, watched him.

Do you still want me to have dinner with you?” he asked wryly, and Laura saw hesitation in his look and felt a first small hope.

She didn't know what to say. But she was thinking, I've made Jack a man in his eyes now. He's thinking, Jack can do what he could never do himself. He's thinking, at least if I was wrong about him ruining Jack's life, I'm right about ruining a baby's. He knows damn well he could do that. Or does he?

But at least he was thinking, His lovely young face was screwed up with the effort.

Suddenly he said to Laura, as if expecting to trip her up, “When's it due? The kid?"

"November,” she said. She had anticipated him.

"Well!” His face brightened. “If it isn't due till November, we've got a long time to play around.” And it was Jack he looked at now.

But Laura jumped at him, bristling. “I don't want an alcoholic for a husband!” she said. “I don't want my baby to have an alcoholic for a father. A drunken, miserable, tormented man who doesn't know which sex he is, who has to chase around after a thoughtless character like you all night. I don't want to lose my husband, Terry. Not to you or any other gay boy in the world. You'd ruin his health and make him wild inside of a month."

She was crying, though she didn't realise it, and her cheeks were flaming. Terry stared at her for some moments in surprised silence. And then he looked at Jack, who was still propped on one arm, taking it all in with an inscrutable smile.

"Well...” Terry said again, almost diffidently. Apparently he believed they were having a child. He looked to Jack for moral support. “Is that the way you feel too, honey?” he asked.

"Why certainly,” Jack said cheerfully, incongruously. “Can't you tell? Whatever she says, goes.” A soft note of hysteria sounded in his voice.

"I guess you don't want me to stay for dinner now,” Terry said, glancing at Laura. For answer she only turned away and began to cry. Terry walked over to Jack and knelt before him on the floor, putting his hands on Jack's shoulders. “I do love you, Jack. I never lied about that. I didn't know it was so bad. For you, I mean. I still don't see how it could have been. But I don't want to mess things up for the kid. Shall I go? You tell me.” He waited, watching Jack's face.

"I told you to leave me once, Terry. I haven't the strength to say it again. It's up to you."

Terry leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. “If you haven't the strength to say it, I haven't the strength to do it. No matter what she says,” he said.

Laura came at him suddenly from across the room. “Go!” she flashed. “Go, damn you, and never come back!"

Terry looked uncertainly from Laura to Jack, and Jack covered his face abruptly with a noise rather like a sob.

Terry stood up. “All right,” he said in a husky voice. “I'll go. I'll go for the baby's sake. But not forever, Laura, Not forever."

At the front door he turned to her. “You say you love him,” he said. “Then you must understand why I can't leave him forever. I love him too.” He said it sadly but matter of factly. And Laura, staring at him through tear-blurred eyes, realised that he never would understand what he had done to Jack or how. He thought it was a simple matter of giving a kid a break. And because he loved Jack enough he was able to do it.

"Enjoy your flowers,” he said with a rueful grin, and then Terry went out the front door and shut it carefully behind him. Neither Jack nor Laura stirred nor made a sound until they heard the elevator arrive, the doors open, shut again, and the elevator leave.

"He's gone,” she whispered. “Dear God, don't let him ever come back."

Jack rolled over, his back to her, and wept briefly and painfully with desperate longing. There was a moment of silence while she watched him fearfully. And then he stood up and headed for the door. Laura threw herself against it.

"No! Don't follow him, Jack!” she implored, her voice rising.

"I won't,” he said, trying to reach past her to open the door, but she threw her arms around him and begged him to stay with her.

"I got him to leave, Jack. He won't dare come back for a long time. Maybe he'll find somebody new. Maybe we'll be lucky and he'll never come back."

"I should be so lucky,” he said acidly. She looked at him, dismayed. “Isn't that what you wanted?” she asked.

He stopped trying to grab the doorknob for a minute to look at her. “Yes,” he said, with effort. And after a pause, “You were masterful, Mother. You really played your scene."

She looked at the floor confusedly, hearing all the sarcasm and the hurt and the grudging admiration in his voice. “Do you hate me for it?” she asked.

"No. I'm grateful."

"Do you still love me?” she whispered. “Yes. But don't ask me to prove it now.” He got the door open in a sudden deft gesture, but Laura was still clutching him.

"Where are you going?” she asked fearfully. “For a bottle."

"Oh, God!” she gasped. “Then it's all been for nothing,” she said despairingly.

"No,” he said. “I'm not drinking this for Terry. I'm drinking it for the baby."

"The baby?” she said tremulously.

"The little kid who wasn't there."

He turned to go and she followed him into the hall.

"But Jack—” she protested as he rang for the elevator. “Jack, I—I—” She looked up and saw the long bronze needle moving swiftly toward “three” as the elevator ascended, having barely emptied Terry into the first floor. It seemed to be measuring off the last seconds of their marriage. She had to do something. Trembling and scared, she caught his lapels and said, with great difficulty, “I meant it, Jack."

"Meant what?"

"About the baby."

He stared at her, one hand holding back the door of the just-arrived elevator.

"I'll have a baby,” she said. “If you still want one."

For a while they stood in the dim little hall and gazed at each other. And then Jack let his hand slip from the elevator door and, circling her waist with his arm, led her back into the apartment.

"He'll be back, you know,” he said, stopping to look at her.

"I know. But by that time he'll know we aren't kidding, she said, looking dubiously at her tight, flat stomach. “By that time you'll be strong again. And ready for him. You'll know he's coming and you'll be able to take it. It won't be like now."

He kissed her. “Goddam it,” he whispered, grateful and amazed. “I do love you."

THE DOCTOR'S WAITING ROOM was crowded, heavy with the eager boredom of people waiting to talk about themselves. It was the fourth doctor they had been to see within a week. Jack, as Laura might have expected, was in a hurry. But he had to find the right man, too—a man he genuinely liked. Not just any bone-picker was going to perform the wizardry to bring his child into being.

Laura had simply sat in red-faced silence through Jack's expositions of their supposed marital troubles, both unwilling and unable to contribute a word. And the whole thing had been lengthy and bewildering and not a little tiring.

But when they finally got into Dr. Belden's plush, paneled office, it went well. And she knew, suddenly paying attention to the words of the men, that it was going to be settled. And it was.

She answered the standard questions, her voice low with embarrassment. They always bothered her excessively, like so many spiders crawling over her tender shame. Other girls might not mind, or even liked to yammer to doctors about their intimate selves, but not Laura.

Jack bolstered her up as they were leaving. “You were heroic, Mother,” he assured her. “I know you hate it—yes you do, don't lie,” he added impatiently when she tried to protest. “It's all right, honey, it's all in a good cause."

"Don't call me honey."

"Why?"

"Terry calls everybody honey.” She was in a grumpy mood; he saw it and let her be for a while. “When do I have to go back?” she asked as they rode home in a taxi

"A week from Thursday.” He looked at her somewhat anxiously as if wishing that Thursday had already come. “You won't change your mind, of course,” he said to comfort himself. His voice was calm but his eyes were worried.

"No,” she sighed. She looked at her gloved hands until his anxious gaze moved her to give him one and make him smile.

He looked strangely different, almost young. Jack had the kind of a face that must have made him look forty when he was twenty. In a sense it was an ageless face because it had hardly changed at all. Laura supposed that when he was sixty, he would still look forty. But for the few weeks after Terry disappeared it looked young. And Laura thought with an ache of how much of that was due to her. How much she had forced him to depend on her. She was deeply committed now. There was no retreating.