Odd Girl (15 page)

"California," Johnson said. Now she turned back to the eggs and hastily took them off the fire. "Sit over there," she ordered Anne, "and start buttering toast."

Anne sat at the card table that Johnson had set and watched Johnson dish out the eggs. Johnson in the morning looked older than Johnson in bed, she thought. She was behaving like a big sister; and Anne didn't want her to be. Anne wanted to take care of her.

Johnson finished her chores, sat down and poured coffee. She was happy this morning. Her eyes were bright and she looked ready for a run around the block.

"Are you always so awake in the morning?" Anne laughed, trying to warm her chest with coffee.

Johnson nodded and put her cup down. "It's nice to have a guest for breakfast," she added.

Anne saw shyness in her eyes now. Johnson felt awkward, she realized.

"I'm having a lovely time," Anne said warmly. She let her eyes meet Johnson's and they looked at each other silently for a moment. Anne felt an undefined warmth come over her. It was not the warmth of love but of fondness and of gratitude. For the first time someone was paying attention, was caring about Anne.

"I hope you're coming back here after work," Johnson said. "I'll have that room ready for you."

Anne smiled. "I want to stay with you very much," she said. Impulsively she took Johnson's hand where it rested on the table and brought it to her lips. "Thank you for being so good."

Johnson squeezed Anne's hand with her own. "You're the first guest I've really wanted to make welcome since Helen left," she said. She quickly looked down at her eggs and ate silently.

Anne thought, I'm going to make her happy. I want to give myself to her in every way and make her happy. Anne knew it was gratitude that made her feel this way, but it was not a strained gratitude; the feeling came easily, spontaneously, and it was very much like love.

Anne finished her eggs and looked up, waiting for Johnson to speak.

"See you for supper?" Johnson said.

Anne nodded. "I'll bring it, though," she said.

Johnson smiled. "You can cook it too, if you want to. I'm not really good at that."

"Fine," Anne said. Somehow she looked forward to cooking for Johnson—it would be fun. She didn't mind being the woman of the house, not with Johnson.

"I guess we'd better walk you to that bus." Johnson stood, placing her napkin on the table.

Anne rose too. "I'll have to stop home before I come over tonight," she said. "I've a cat to feed."

"Bring her over," Johnson said. "I might as well take her in, too." She rubbed Anne's head fondly and took her hand, and they went to the closet for their jackets.

Anne watched Johnson nervously take them off the hangers. She was very conscious of Anne's nearness.

"Prudence, come here," Anne said, taking her collar.

Johnson dropped the jackets on the floor and put her arms around Anne. "Still like me this morning?" she smiled.

Anne smiled too and nodded and brought her lips up to meet Johnson's gentle kiss. "It's a pity you're sending me off to work," she said.

"You need your job now," Johnson said.

Anne nodded and sighed.

They were silent, with volumes of things to say as they walked to the bus stop. They waited quietly on the corner and smiled at each other in the light of the sun and the clear blue sky.

Anne watched Johnson wave to her from the bus stop and then sat back in her seat by the window. The bus was always nearly empty at this stop, but when they reached 14th Street, people began to crowd on. Anne let herself be squeezed into the corner of her seat and tried to avoid an open newspaper now dangerously close to the tip of her nose. But no one could crowd out the fact that she was alive—and that she was happy.

At 55th Street she got off and walked the long block to Fifth Avenue, to her office. She had never been fifteen minutes early for work. She had always hurried to arrive two minutes before nine. But this morning she was early, and it gave her time to see the sun-filled sidewalk and time to look at the green of the small trees in front of the apartment buildings. She thought she heard birds and looked up and saw the pigeons. Does everyone love morning as I do? she wondered. Then she remembered Esther. Esther loved morning. What am I going to do about Esther? Anne thought.

She shrugged her shoulders and walked on in the same happy stride. "For once I'm going to be irresponsible," she said aloud.

Anne was a secretary in a publishing house that owned its own building. It was a white, new building with self-service elevators. Since everyone came late, Anne's elevator was empty. She pressed the button and rode quickly to her floor. Only the office manager was earlier than Anne and Anne waved to her on the way to her own desk.

"Good morning," the woman answered. She was romantically named Juliette and she was fat and middle-aged and still unmarried. She had worked for the firm eighteen years and still remembered its first crowded offices on Madison Avenue.

Anne hung up her jacket and then went to Juliette's desk. "Did Phil miss me very much yesterday?"

"I'll say," Juliette laughed. "He was a spoiled brat all day. How's your cold?"

"Almost gone." Anne cleared her throat. She had forgotten that was the excuse she had given over the telephone yesterday, when she had been with Esther.

"Hi, Anne, all better?" Alan, the office boy, called from the door. He was a small, bespectacled youth with a slight Brooklyn accent—almost an affected lisp. Anne always wondered about him; he seemed as if he might be gay.

"Much better," Anne said. She excused herself now and went to her desk. Alan and Juliette scarcely missed her, they were so anxious to start gossiping together.

They're both so tense, Anne thought. She pitied them. The firm was losing money and many people had been let go. Alan and Juliette were the only ones left of the original staff on Anne's floor. Alan had worked here six years—Anne wondered what kept him on here; she could understand Juliette's worrying—it would be hard for her to find another job—but Alan could find another one at his salary or better elsewhere.

She pulled the typewriter out of her desk and snapped it into place. Anne was a good typist, but there was hardly any opportunity to use her skills here. Phil, her boss, was fresh out of ivy league and the least busy of all the executives. He was axe-man for the President and spent most of his time chatting and planning with him, or dictating memos. Phil was in charge of the new staff-reduction policy and because Anne was his secretary, Juliette and Alan distrusted her.

Phil wouldn't be in until ten, and Anne had nothing to do until he came. She pretended to be busy with routine things but her thoughts were filled with Johnson and she really didn't want to work. She could hardly wait until the end of the day. Jacques might want the apartment, she thought; I'll call him. She looked at her watch. It was ten after nine. He would be in his office. She took up the telephone and dialed.

Jacques was working down in the Wall Street district this season. Anne heard the operator announce his shipping firm and asked for him. She was connected with Accounting. Again she asked for him and heard the young man who had answered call him to the phone.

"Hello?" she heard him say. His voice still sounded gay, but subdued in the office, and slightly hoarse.

"Good morning," Anne said, imitating Johnson's cheery voice.

"For God's sake," he spoke louder, "we've been trying to get you all night."

"Who's we?" Anne asked.

"Esther, Carl and I," Jacques said. "We had a ball at Carl's house."

At the mention of Esther, Anne hesitated a moment. What was she going to tell Esther about Johnson? "I've had to move suddenly," she said to Jacques. "I'll tell you where you can reach me later. Meanwhile, are you still interested in my apartment?"

"To live in? Sure!" Jacques said without hesitation. Long subleases with low rents were scarce. "But what's up?"

"Mark's told my parents where I live," Anne said. "I'm staying with a friend."

"A girl friend, I suppose," Jacques said naughtily. "Don't worry, I'll take care of Esther."

"No, don't do that," Anne said sternly. "I'll tell her myself."

"Oh, Alice!" Jacques said. Anne hoped the operator was not listening in.

"Meet me at my apartment at six," she said. "We can talk about everything then."

"Right," Jacques said, and hung up.

Anne put the phone down and thought a moment. It would be impossible to work today. Too many things were going on. She would have to speak to Esther and clear the air. And she had to go and pack at her apartment and see Jacques, and there was shopping to do for supper tonight with Johnson. And there was thinking to be done about Johnson, a lot of thinking.

Anne remembered Johnson vividly. The memory had been with her all morning, making her arms and legs, her whole body weak with after-pleasure. And now she was afraid of Johnson, afraid of falling in love too soon. Beth had been unsure, and Esther. Johnson seemed sure, but perhaps this was only a first impression. Perhaps all Lesbians were undependable, neurotic, incapable of prolonged feelings. Cora's crowd changed partners every six months and fell hard each time. Paradise was full of every-nighters. Only a few relationships seemed really permanent—and even Johnson's Helen had left, after eight years.

Remember the high incidence of divorce, she told herself. Men and women aren't making such a good average either—and more of the breaks are on their side: family approval, the law, church—even quiz programs and books on marriage and sex.

Anne shook off the fear. She would go slowly, would not turn Johnson into Beth, not for a while.

"You still look sick." Juliette was passing by with a ream of mimeograph paper in her hand.

"Do I?" Anne blushed. She decided lack of sleep was finally showing on her face.

"Better go right to bed after work," Juliette said.

Anne wondered if Juliette suspected her of having stayed overnight somewhere—perhaps with Mark. Mark had been a familiar sight around the office up to four weeks ago; she hadn't told anyone that they were married.

Anne laughed silently; at least Juliette wouldn't suspect the real reason for Anne's "cold." She wondered what would happen if Juliette knew. Would it change her attitude? Would she be afraid of Anne, or full of hate? Anne wanted to tell someone. She felt proud of being different. Like Jacques, she wanted people to know. She wanted now to cut her hair short and wear a tailored suit—like Miss Barnes, the woman at the far corner of the floor in the production department.

Miss Barnes is a handsome woman, Anne thought. I wonder if she's gay.

It was nearing ten now and Phil, Anne's boss, walked in with the
Times
under his arm. He was earlier than usual, perhaps because of the beautiful morning.

Phil is affected but he's not gay, Anne thought, looking from Miss Barnes to him. It showed in the way he walked and talked, in his favorite expressions, in the perpetual twist of his eyebrows like a puppy beaten by its master, full of hate.

"All better, Anne?" he said, concerned. He was sweet in the morning. It was only after two o'clock in the afternoon that he became tense and ill-tempered. Perhaps because he had seen the president.

"Almost well," Anne said again. "Just a cold."

"We've lots to do this morning so bring your pad in," he said, not really hearing her reply. He rolled up his
Times
into a stick and strode into his cubicle, hitting his hand with the paper. "Yes sir, lots to do."

Anne groaned silently. Oh well, she consoled herself, perhaps the day will go faster if I'm busy.

By noon she was so involved with work that she planned to have a sandwich sent up. But then Esther called. "Hi—free for lunch?" Esther said gayly. "A short one," Anne said, a bit afraid to see her. It would be hard to explain about Johnson.

"I'll walk over and meet you downstairs in ten minutes," Esther said.

Carl's house was nearby and only now Anne realized how convenient her office location could be—Esther could meet her for lunch often. But Johnson had appeared on the scene, and she really should break with Esther. Her call made Anne remember her more vividly and she knew it would be hard to break with her. Esther needed Anne more than Johnson needed Anne. Someone was needed to take her away from Carl.

She brought her attention back to the letter she was typing and finished it, then put it on Phil's desk for signing. He was already out for his two-hour lunch. She walked quickly to the closet and put on her jacket, then ran to catch the down elevator.

Esther was five minutes late. She arrived dressed in slacks. She looked beautiful, more so than in a dress, but Anne winced, hoping no one on her floor would be coming out of the elevators now.

"Let's eat in the Zoo," Anne said, taking her arm and quickly leading her out of the building.

"What's the rush?" Esther laughed, refusing to be hurried.

"Oh, nothing," Anne gave up. Esther had no feeling for her environment.

They walked up Fifth Avenue.

"What's this about your moving?" Esther said. "I called Jacques and he told me."

"A long story," Anne sighed. "Mark told my parents where I live." She didn't want to explain it now, none of it, particularly to Esther. Talking to Esther at this moment was difficult.

"Where are you staying?" Esther said.

"With a friend," Anne said cryptically.

Esther was silent and they walked until they reached the plaza with the fountain. They found an empty spot on the white steps and sat.

Esther impulsively took Anne's hand and squeezed it. "Do you like me?"

"Why do you ask?" Anne blushed.

"You're acting strangely," Esther said. "Are you angry at me?"

"No," Anne said, "I'm not angry. I guess I feel guilty, that's all." The best way to tell Esther was simply to tell her. "I met someone last night," she said. She didn't want to say it was Johnson; it might not be right to do that.

Esther looked at her innocently for a moment and then became concerned and said sadly, "Oh. Another girl?"