Odd Girl (10 page)

Esther's whole body was tense. She was shivering, and the shivering was making her laugh.

"Let's sit," Anne said.

They found an unoccupied bench and sat, looking at the obelisk on the hill.

"Why are you upset?" Anne asked.

Esther was taken by surprise. "Is it that obvious?"

Anne nodded, lightly squeezing her hand. "Is it because of me?"

"In a way." Esther let go of her hand and hunched over the back of the bench, biting the knuckles of her own fist while thinking.

Anne watched her quietly. Esther was experiencing a conflict over something, and Anne did not know what to do to help her.

Finally Esther spoke. "Why are you here with me? I'm really an awful person."

"I didn't know," Anne laughed. "Why?"

"You're very beautiful," Esther answered.

Anne was silent. She wondered if Esther said that often.

Finally, Esther said, "What is it you want of me?"

It was a blunt question. Anne shrugged. "Someone to love, I guess," she said.

Esther laughed. "And I want someone to love me." She turned and looked intently at Anne. "There's a fundamental difference between us."

Anne paused to consider this. "Is it that you're not willing to love someone in return?" she asked.

Esther was silent. She stared outward for a while and then turned to Anne and brought her hand to her temple, pretending to brush back Anne's hair. "You are very beautiful," she repeated.

Anne blushed. Esther saw this and brought her face very close. Anne expected a kiss but there was none.

Esther laughed finally and said, "We'd better get out of this park."

Anne did not want to go back to Carl's but Esther's grasp was firm and she followed, through the iron gate and into the dark hallway again. The door thumped shut behind them and it was pitch black except for the stream of dim light from the library.

Esther stopped and pushed Anne gently to the wall. Her body was suddenly very close. Their thighs touched and Esther's arms wound tightly around Anne, sending a wave of excitement through her. Their breasts touched and Esther's warm lips brushed Anne's neck, paralyzing her.

"Don't be afraid," Esther said.

Carl's voice came from the library, "Back so soon?" They let go of each other quickly and whirled toward the light. He was not watching them. Esther paused a moment and then led the way into the room.

"It was too cold," she said.

"It must be," he said wryly. "Your cheeks are red.”

He returned to his chair and before he could sit he broke into a violent cough.

Esther whitened and rushed to him, helping him into the chair. Anne had never seen her so pale.

"Bring me that medicine," she motioned to Anne.

Anne hurried to the small table and took the bottle of pills and the pitcher of water and brought them to her. Carl was quieter now, but they gave him a pill to be sure.

When he could speak, he forced a smile and said for Anne's benefit, "It's not contagious—just bronchitis."

Esther covered him with his blanket and felt his forehead and then went again to sit on the sofa. She was upset. Anne sat beside her and tried to take her hand, but Esther was watching Carl. The music he had put on was filling the room.

The sound was oppressive, and Anne wanted to leave. And then the unexpected happened. Esther excused herself and left the room.

Anne had been deserted. She was forced to stay here with Carl, listening to his music, while Esther had gone elsewhere. Anne's good manners would not permit her leaving Carl.

Five minutes went by and the strain of listening was beginning to show in her eyes. She looked at Carl. He was turned toward the window. He would not see her leave. He would not miss her. She rose quietly and tiptoed out.

Esther had probably gone to her room, so Anne entered the small elevator and pressed the top-floor button. Slowly, the small basket took her away from the music, away from the dim lighting and up to the sunlit top of the house. She walked down the hallway toward the room that Jacques had pointed out. Her steps made the old boards creak.

"Anne?" She heard Esther's voice at the end of the corridor.

"Yes," Anne answered.

"Over here," Esther said. Now she appeared at the end of the hallway. It was hard to see her because of the sun, and then the window was passed and Anne saw her plainly. Esther was nude, her long and bony body, well built and strong, naked in the sun and white like marble.

Anne stopped, unable to go further; Esther laughed and disappeared through the doorway.

Anne followed her. She entered, and closed the door behind her. The room was different from the rest of the house—barren and painted white—showing due respect for bookshelves, a desk and files and a low, wide bed, unmade and streaked with sunlight.

As Anne stood there, Esther came out of the adjoining bathroom, a towel around her, and Anne could see that her hair was wet from the shower.

"I'm glad you decided to follow me," Esther said, sitting on the bed, drying herself. "Come here and sit by me."

Anne obeyed silently. The first paralysis of excitement was gone now, and she was able to be calm.

"I don't know you very well," Esther said. "Do you like books, music?" She motioned to the bookshelves and went to put a record on the phonograph.

"Not right now, thank you," Anne said. She rose and looked around the room. The desk caught her attention. It was quite untidy and full of typewritten sheets almost completely covering her typewriter. Anne went to it.

"Please, don't look there," Esther said. "It's not finished."

"What's not finished?" Anne asked.

"All of it," Esther said. "What I'm writing."

Anne smiled and turned—felt the same way about unfinished things, could not bear to show her paintings before they were completed. She took a book from the shelf instead and went back to the bed to look through it.

Esther wrapped a blanket around herself and sat next to Anne, curious at what she had picked out. It was a book of caricatures. Anne had chosen it because it would not require close attention. She was determined not to make the first move, determined to wait for Esther, and the book was her excuse for sitting on the bed.

It worked. Esther put her hand over the pages and Anne looked into her eyes. They were playful and unsure. Suddenly it struck her—Esther was waiting for her.

Anne put the book down and took Esther's hand. It was cold and knotted as before. All of Esther was knotted as before, and shivering.

"Lie down," Anne said to her quietly—and took her shoulders gently with her hands, stroking away the shivers with a gentle but firm grasp. Esther lay down, tangled in the blankets, and watched her. Anne kicked off her shoes and knelt by the bed. Slowly, patiently, her hands began unfolding the blanket. She found Esther's ankles, cold and white, and began to trace the blue veins upward toward the thighs. A strange power seemed to flow from her hands and grow through the rest of her body; then she moved to put her lips on Esther's.

* * *

There was something wrong with Esther. She would not speak. Anne watched her in the twilight as the orange sun spread its glow over her body. She only lay there, staring upward to the ceiling.

"Is anything wrong?" Anne asked.

"No," Esther said.

"I can't help feeling that you resent me," Anne said.

Esther laughed sadly. "I do."

"Why?"

Esther sat up and looked at Anne. Her eyes were deep and nervous. "Because you pleased me," she said.

"I don't understand," Anne said. Why should Esther resent her for that?

"Don't you?" Esther said cynically. She rose and paced the floor. "I think we'd better just be friends."

Now Anne began to understand, and it amused her. She had wounded Esther's vanity.

But inwardly, she resented Esther's attitude. It was no better than or different from a man's.

"No one else has ever pleased me," Esther said. She looked out the window silently and her fist, now clenched, thumped against the palm of her other hand.

Anne rose and came to her. Esther was nearly a head taller than she and her dark mood made Anne a little afraid. But she stood beside her at the window, careless about being seen.

"I'm sorry," Anne said, "all this is very new to me."

Now Esther turned her head to look at her and her eyes were wildly strong. She took Anne by the shoulders in a grip as tight as Mark's. Esther pressed Anne to her and forced Anne's mouth to accept hers. Anne was afraid. Esther was angry.

* * *

Anne did not know how long she slept. The tiredness of the night before had caught up with her and had made her collapse when all tensions were released, and now it was dark outside. She felt for Esther's body and found only a rumple of sheets. She remembered the lamp over the bed and turned it on.

The room was empty and the door closed so that the monastic white walls boxed her in threateningly.

Anne rose, covering her nakedness with the loose sheet, and looked, frightened, for her clothes. She was in a strange room in a strange house that was noisily quiet with the sound of her own mind. And then she forced indignation to replace fear and put on her clothes roughly and stepped determinedly into the hallway. Esther had left her alone, and Anne was angry.

Her determination intimidated the small elevator to work efficiently, and she now found herself downstairs, walking to the study, expecting to see Carl. But there was only the small maid, cleaning.

"Oh, it's you, miss," she said, a bit startled.

Anne wondered if the house was always so frightening at night.

"Is anyone home?" she asked.

"Mr. Carl is asleep," the maid said. "Miss Esther's gone." Now she stood, awaiting orders.

"Thank you," Anne said, and turned to the door.

Outside, the chill air humbled her; shivering, she hailed a taxi.

She's probably at Paradise, Anne thought. But she told the driver to take her home. When she left the cab, she went across to The Florentin. She was angry to the point of tears. Esther had left her alone. Esther had left her as Beth had left her.

The Florentin's windows were fogged with dampness. It looked warm and light inside. Anne opened the glass door, entered, and stood still, crossing the room with her eyes, inspecting faces for a friend.

"Hey, Alice," Jacques hailed her, "over here."

Anne smiled. The world was becoming all right again. Her friends were at a table. She went to the table and sat on an empty chair, and waited to greet them until Marcel had finished talking.

"...I insist," Marcel was saying, "sex and love are entirely different. I love a dozen girls and they're all still virgins."

"That's because they don't love you," Jennie giggled.

Their cups of coffee were stale, but they were broke this week and couldn't order others.

"Alice, what happened?" Jacques said. "Did you make out?"

"Never mind," Anne smiled sadly. Jacques' curiosity repulsed her now. She tried to tell herself that he was young.

"Something did happen," he laughed naughtily. "Mary, you're fast!"

"What's this all about?" Marcel asked, hearing a fragment.

"Nothing much," Anne said. And then an odd impulse took hold of her and she felt she had to tell them. "I've become a Lesbian."

Jennie giggled cleverly,
"Chacun a son gout!"
and Marcel and Jacques laughed. Anne smiled. They thought she was joking. Only Jacques really knew. She wondered how they would react if they had believed her. She wondered how the rest of the world, the rest of her friends would react. They would have to accept it, or Anne would drop them. She would not hide herself from them, not from her friends—her employers, perhaps—but not her friends. They would just have to accept it.

Suddenly the warmth of the Florentin was unbearable and the company dull. She could no longer bear Jacques, she could not communicate with Marcel or Jennie. She rose. She no longer belonged here.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," she said to Jacques. "Right now I'm due at Cora's."

She left the Florentin, left Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart in full swing over the loudspeaker, left the discussion of Shakespeare, Strindberg and Sex—left the heat and the dampness and smell of fresh coffee and walked in the cold air past the crowds of men standing on the street, past the whistling crowds of violent men, past the last lights of safety and down the cold dark street, down the street of violent silence, down the only street that led to Cora's. Anne was going to get even, was going to spite Esther.

She was ready to immerse herself in noise, the noise of Cora's juke box. She was ready to exhaust herself in dancing. The noise in her own ears was ready to blend into Cora's. She ran down the steps and through the swinging door, and stopped.

Cora's had changed. The juke box was subdued, the No Dancing signs were larger and there was no one on the floor. The women were gone and only the truck drivers were standing at the bar.

"Hi, kid." Cora stopped her at the door. "Can you prove your age?"

Anne took out her wallet automatically. She was puzzled.

Cora glanced at her driver's license. "Okay."

"What's the matter?" Anne asked.

"Elections," Cora said. "Every place is watching its step this month. Why haven't you been in?"

"I thought you didn't want me to come back," Anne said.

"Did I say that?" Cora scratched her head. "I must have been drunk."

Now someone else entered and she had to stop them.

"Go sit down," she said to Anne. "I'll join you later."

Anne squeezed through the empty tables toward the back. She saw Skippy wave at her from behind the bar and she waved back. After Esther, Skippy did not seem very attractive. But Skippy's eyes were friendly and Anne was glad she had come to Cora's. She felt at home.

"What'll you have?" Skippy said.

"Vat 69 and coke," Anne said.

"Whoops," Skippy laughed, "I should have remembered."

She prepared a tray and put Cora's scotch and soda on it too and then Cora came and took it from the bar and brought it to Anne's table.