Odd Girl (16 page)

Anne nodded. "I felt awful when you left yesterday. I wanted to hit back at you for leaving me, for choosing Carl. I went a little too far last night and now I'm confused."

Esther paused for a moment and thought about this. Finally she said, "You like her."

"Yes," Anne said.

"But you also like me?" Esther said.

"Yes," Anne said again. Now she laughed, a little embarrassed. She had never thought such a situation would arise. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she was hurting Esther, very much. She wanted to do something about it, but there was nothing to do.

Esther laughed boisterously and rubbed Anne's head fondly. "Don't take things so seriously. I haven't been reporting to you, have I?" She pretended not to have been reached by Anne's revelation, but she seemed very pale against the white steps.

"I can't help taking things seriously," Anne said. "I want to find someone I can take seriously."

"I guess I haven't made you feel very secure," Esther said quietly.

"I wasn't very secure to start with," Anne said. "It really wasn't your fault."

"And then there's Carl," Esther said.

"Yes, there's Carl," Anne said. Now she was silent and waited for Esther to speak.

"Let's walk," Esther said, getting up.

They started again toward the Zoo. There were many people out today, much traffic, and more pigeons. They crossed the plaza and came to the park and walked down the path to the crowds around the cages. On either side of them old men and women, the younger ones, some with baby carriages, occupied every inch of space on the benches.

Esther walked very close to Anne, holding her hand. Her nearness was pleasantly exciting, and Anne almost regretted Johnson for a moment.

"I don't know if I can explain Carl," Esther said, after a while. "I can only say I need him. I want to marry him, if I can bring myself to do it."

"Why?" Anne said, completely surprised.

"Because I don't want to be what I am," Esther said, disturbed at saying this. "I'm afraid."

"But why Carl?" Anne said. Someone younger and healthier would have been a better choice.

"Because I don't have to do anything with Carl," Esther said. "Don't you understand? I don't want to have to do anything with a man."

"And you think you can marry Carl and still be free to go to Paradise—and have his money and all that security, without giving anything in return," Anne said blankly. "You think that with Carl you can have something for nothing."

"You don't understand," Esther said, now highly upset. "That's not it at all."

"But I do understand," Anne said. The memory of her visits at .Carl's house was strong, the memory of the resentment in Carl's eyes. "You don't think Carl wants anything from you but he does. He wants to have all of you. You'll never have a life of your own with him. If anyone else dares to come near to you, dares to love you—or if you love—Carl will smash them, quietly, innocently, threatening you with his sickness, filling up your time with a dozen other people."

"No, that's not true," Esther said. They had stopped in the middle of the path now and her voice was quite loud.

"It is true," Anne said. "Wasn't it true with me? Wasn't I brought in to make you forget someone else you were interested in? Won't there be someone—isn't there someone right now—to replace me? Hasn't Carl invited someone else over for this Sunday morning?" She stared fixedly at Esther and took her wrists, pleadingly. "Esther, think—hasn't he kept you on a gay merry-go-round? Are you really happy?"

Esther turned away from her. "Let's not stop here. Let's walk," she said.

They went further into the Zoo and then out again and some benches were vacant. They found one and sat.

"Is someone else invited this Sunday morning?" Anne said. Her tone was softer this time. She did not want to hurt Esther or put her through some third degree. But she felt it was necessary to get things clear between them. It was necessary before she decided about Johnson.

"Yes," Esther said, sounding a little beaten, "someone is invited."

"I'm glad Carl is keeping you well amused," Anne said bitterly. Instantly she regretted her tone. "I've been very hard on you. I'm sorry."

"Sometimes the truth hurts," Esther smiled sadly. "Everything you've said is true, and I've known it for a long time. But I don't want to do anything about it yet."

“I know," Anne said. "I really shouldn't have spoken up. I somehow knew you knew it. But I had to get things clear."

Esther paused for a long time and tapped her foot on the pavement. "Will you give me some time?" she said.

"I don't know if I can," Anne said. "I want to, but I'm afraid."

"Are you seeing that other girl tonight?" Esther said guiltily.

"Yes," Anne said. "I'm staying with her for a while."

"When can I see you?"

"Sunday morning," Anne said.

"But I can't—" Esther said. She was plainly torn.

"Are you always going to do what Carl tells you to do?" Anne said.

Esther was silent and then said, "Maybe Sunday, then."

"I’ll wait at the Florentin from ten to eleven," Anne said.

They got up from the bench. It was time for Anne to go back to work.

"Are you walking me back?" she asked.

Esther looked at her watch. "I'm sorry, I can't."

"That's all right," Anne smiled. "See you Sunday." She extended her hand and Esther took it and held it tightly for a moment. Her eyes were unsure, elsewhere.

Anne forced herself to turn away and walk down the path. She would leave the park and take a taxi back. She was late.

By late afternoon the work was cleared away and Phil left at four. Anne waited another half hour and then left. Juliette disapprovingly watched her leave but said nothing. Anne shrugged and mentally defended herself. She had often stayed in after quitting time when work was piled up.

She took the subway because it was faster and stopped first at the A&P for groceries and then hurried to her apartment. Before entering the front door she looked hastily around to see if her father's car was parked anywhere. It wasn't in sight. Cautiously she entered the house and climbed the stairs to her door and entered her apartment with the same care. Mark might have given her father a key. But the place was empty—only Portia was there, much surprised to see her and very hungry.

Anne put the groceries down, and petted her, and went to the refrigerator for cat food.

While Portia ate Anne hurried to the closet and got out her two suitcases. She would take essentials over to Johnson's; Jacques would help her carry everything.

The apartment frightened her now. It seemed dreadfully remote and easily stormed. She consoled herself that she could always leave by the fire escape if her father knocked at the door.

She asked herself why she was so terrified of meeting him. She realized it was because she wasn't sure she was right. So many things had happened too quickly, and no one in the world seemed quite to understand her way of seeing things. Mark had called her sick, mixed up, incapable of knowing what was best for herself, and her father had echoed him.

Deep inside of her she believed there could be no other way of life for her, but she didn't have it phrased in the words with which to answer her father. If he came now she would not know how to speak to him. That would further confuse her, as Mark had further confused her at first, about her feelings for Beth, and about life, and what was right for her.

And then there was the strong feeling of guilt within her, guilt that she was hurting her parents, guilt that she was not leading the life they had planned for her—and even guilt over Mark, although she was quick to remind herself that Mark deserved to be hurt, that he had asked for it from the very beginning.

She busied herself with unwashed dishes and unhung clothes trying to get rid of the feeling of fear and of guilt. She wanted the apartment to be clean for Jacques' inspection. She heard his familiar three buzzes and buzzed in return. She waited for him to climb the stairs and knock; then she opened the door and quickly shut it again behind him.

"Alice, you're really nervous," he said. "Already packing?" He looked at the suitcases on the sofa.

"Will you help me carry them?" she said. "I'm not moving far."

"Sure." Now he looked at the apartment with a new air of inspection. He had always liked it. "It's a shame you have to leave," he said.

"Wait till you see the place I'm moving to," Anne laughed. She was sad to leave but knew Prudence's house would make Jacques green. "Will your parents mind your leaving home?" she asked.

"I don't think so," Jacques said. "Things have been crowded for months."

He went into the kitchen and opened all the cupboards. "Do I have a free hand with the decorating?"

"Yes, but the furniture's not mine so don't re-do it. And don't use black paint." She suppressed a feeling of resentment. She had loved her apartment, and now Jacques was claiming it and making it his. "Come help me pack," Anne said. Jacques went to the closet and brought out her two best dresses and then went to the bureau and found her tailored shirts. But Anne took only slacks and skirts. This would last her at least a week, until she could come and get the rest of her things.

"Alice, look at these!" Jacques said, holding up a pair of nylon panties with ruffles. "Can you get me a pair?" He held them in front of him and wiggled. "Simply mad!"

"Cool down, Mary." Anne snatched them from him, suppressing a smile.

She stuffed the rest of the things in the suitcases and closed them and then went to the bathroom and cleared the shelves. "When are you moving in?" she asked.

"Tonight, of course," Jacques winked. "Only can I pay you the rent on Friday?"

"That'll be all right," Anne said. Now everything was ready and Anne put Portia's collar and leash on her, picked her up, and carried the groceries in the other arm. Jacques took the two suitcases and the small cosmetic case and followed her out of the apartment. There was still no sign of her father.

Cautiously, they reached the landing. Anne stopped and opened her mailbox. There were flyers, something about television, and Thanksgiving turkeys—and a letter from Beth. She gripped it in her hand and followed Jacques out of the building.

Jacques' car was illegally parked in front and they piled the baggage into it hurriedly; then Anne went around and got into the front seat with Portia. Jacques started the motor.

"Duck, Alice," he said suddenly.

Anne and Portia sank to the floor board and waited as Jacques started the motor.

"Did you see Dad?" she asked.

"No," he laughed. "I just wanted to see you cats dive.”

"Ouch," Anne winced. She wanted to kick him, but his foot was on the gas.

It was only four blocks to Johnson's, but all the streets went the wrong way and they had to circle around Seventh Avenue and back before they could get the car turned in the right direction. It took ten minutes.

"We should have walked it," Jacques said, turning into the street. But when he stopped in front of Johnson's store he ground the gears and said "Wow! Alice, what a trick. This setup's better than Esther's."

"Prudence isn't a trick," Anne said. Jacques was especially obscene today—things at his home must have been worse than usual. "Come on in and meet her, but mind your language," she said.

It was getting dark now and Johnson's shop was lit; it looked warm and inviting. Anne and Portia opened the glass door and heard it ring, then held it open for Jacques and the baggage.

"I'll be out in a minute," Johnson called from the back. Anne heard the buzz of an electric sander.

"I see she makes her own," Jacques said, trying out a chair on display. He had put the baggage in the only clear spot on the floor and watched Anne wrestle with Portia.

Anne looked at the shop. It was crowded with wrought iron sculpture, long mosaic slabs and paintings, stacked and hung. In one corner were two art tables, the type commercial artists use, with half-finished work on them. It was self-sufficient. Anne wondered suddenly if there really was a place for her here, if Johnson would have changed since this morning; perhaps she had even forgotten about her.

"May I help you?" Johnson said, coming to the front removing her work gloves. Then she saw Anne and stopped. "Why didn't you holler?" she said, and smiled.

At once Anne felt welcome. Johnson's eyes were kinder than she had remembered, and all of Johnson came back in her mind, even in the tips of her fingers. "Hi," she flushed. "I brought friends."

"So I see," Johnson said, coming near to pet Portia.

"This is Portia," Anne said, "and that's Jacques. He's taking my apartment."

"Hello, Jacques." Johnson turned and extended her hand.

"Hello," Jacques rose meekly, now slightly intimidated by Anne's admonition to behave himself, and also by Johnson's height and build.

She looks very male tonight, Anne thought. It made her feel a little strange. She wanted always to think of Johnson as a woman.

"Well, I guess I'd better be going," Jacques said, feeling awkward.

"Wait," Anne said, reaching in her pockets. "Here." She threw her keys to him. "Save my mail, will you?"

"Right, Alice." He winked and quickly exited.

"Hello, Portia," Johnson said, scratching the cat behind the ear.

"She likes you," Anne said. She looked up at Johnson now and enjoyed her nearness, felt calmed by her quiet eyes.

"What are we standing here for?" Johnson blushed. "Let's take everything upstairs." "But the store—" Anne began.

"Six o'clock," Johnson said, shutting the lights and locking the door, "closing time." She took the suitcases and Anne followed her with Portia and the groceries in her arms through the dimly lit hall upstairs.

Upstairs is cheerier this evening than last night, Anne thought; Johnson's been at work. She followed her toward the back to a room she remembered as crowded with things that morning. It was cleared and clean now, and brightly furnished with items from the store.

"Beautiful," Anne said, still holding Portia and the groceries.