Odd Girl (21 page)

"It's a pattern, Anne," Pru said. "I went through it too. I just want time to plead my case and then I'll take you to her."

She waited for Anne to speak. Anne looked down, feeling quite defensive. She didn't want Pru to be so superior; she was treating her like a child.

"I told you that you could have Beth," Pru said. "If you see her tonight you'll know I'm right. But if you keep her you'll make the mistake I made with Helen."

"Perhaps Beth's not like Helen," Anne rose to her defense.

"Perhaps," Pru said. "If so, I hope you'll both be very happy." She stared at Anne a little sadly now. "I need you too, Anne," she said, repeating the words with the same intensity as before, in the kitchen. "I know it seems as if Beth needs you more, and perhaps she does. Beth certainly needs someone. But I need you too and I think I can appreciate you more than Beth can. I think Beth is selfish about you. She doesn't want to give up anything for you as I do."

"What do you want to give up for me, Johnson?" Anne looked at her. It was hard to be angry at Pru, even when convenient.

"All of me, which is bad and would hurt you," Pru said. "Don't think that's an easy thing to do. Many people—and I think Beth especially—wouldn't know where to start."

"I guess not," Anne said. "I wouldn't know either."

"But you do," Pru said. She neared Anne now and took her hand. "You're rare, Anne, because you're so honest with yourself. That's why I need you. I've looked and looked for someone like you." She stopped and sighed. "I guess I'd better stop talking and take you to Beth." She took up the telephone and handed it to Anne. "Better see if she's home."

"I don't want to call her," Anne said, avoiding the telephone as if it were a vicious thing.

"Yes, you do," Pru said. "Eventually you'll want to call her. It might as well be now."

She's so beautiful, Anne thought, wanting now to embrace Pru. They were alone and Anne felt desire awakening. Perhaps because she's being cold to me, she thought.

"I don't want to see Beth," Anne said, getting up and facing Pru. "Hold me," she pleaded.

"No," Pru said, turning away, "I can't. You still belong Beth." She handed the telephone to Anne. "Please call her now."

"I don't want to call her," Anne said, again avoiding the receiver. "I'm not ready yet."

"Tomorrow I won't be ready to let you call her," Pru said.

"If I see Beth tonight I'll probably make love to her," Anne said coldly, trying to discourage Pru. "Do you want that?"

"I'm prepared to forgive it," Pru said. She turned away. I want you to make love to her, Anne. It's the only way you'll be sure about her. I want you to know whether you enjoy being treated like a man."

"What do you mean?" Anne said, puzzled and embarrassed.

"Helen pretended, I was a man for eight years," Pru said. "She really wanted men, but she was afraid of them. I was a convenient substitute."

"And you think Beth wants men too," Anne said. "I think Beth wants to be pure," Pru answered. "She's had too many men and being with you will make her feel young again. She'll make you into a young boy."

"I can't believe that," Anne said and turned away. "You're saying Beth wants me to be a butch, like the ones at Cora's."

"Perhaps," Pru nodded. "And then again perhaps I’ve misjudged her."

"I think you have," Anne said coldly. She was annoyed at Pru now. She was attacking Beth's motives, was comparing Beth to one of the cheap girls at Cora's. Anne went to the telephone and took it angrily. "I guess I'll have to prove it to you."

She dialed Beth's number roughly, feeling a wonderful new freedom, almost sadistic, making her strong with rage and no longer afraid of Pru, no longer afraid of Beth. She stared intently at Pru, not stopping even when Beth answered the telephone.

"Beth?" she said, a little hoarse; and then she cleared her throat. "Beth, I want to see you tonight. May I come over?" She was doing what she had wanted to do at the A&P—calling Beth. But she felt cold about it, and about Pru, felt cold about the whole world, felt only rage.

She heard Beth's startled pause on the other end. "Yes, of course," she said. "Rick's here, but I'm sure he'll understand."

"I want to see you alone," Anne said. The mention of Rick made her even more angry.

Beth paused again for a long moment and then said, "All right, I'll send him out for a couple of hours. Come up in twenty minutes." She hung up without a goodbye.

Anne put the receiver down slowly. A feeling of distaste was beginning to creep over her rage. Beth was with Rick, would see Rick again after Anne. She didn't want to see Beth like that. But she would, to spite Rick.

Pru looked at her. Her eyes were quiet, stoic. "I'll drop you off in a taxi," she said.

Anne stood, still feeling the wonderful freedom of before, the freedom of being able to do what she wanted, of feeling unashamed of rage and selfishness. Selfishness—that was it. She had hidden her selfishness even from herself, and now Pru had let her be selfish, had let her be reckless and cruel, had made her free.

Now Pru brought Anne's jacket and helped her with it. Anne let her automatically and then followed her downstairs, out into the damp cold air. It was drizzling slightly. The wetness took some of Anne's rage away. But she was not flesh and blood now, she was back somewhere, to some old and strange half-sleeping mood, part robot, in a world of stone.

"Come on, butch," Pru said wryly. "You’ll be late."

"Why are you calling me that?" Anne said.

"Because that's what you're being, young 'un," Pru said. She smiled a little now. "You won't look as bad as some in short hair, though." She couldn't help being amused at Anne now, almost laughing at her, although she was still sad.

Anne thought of Skippy again and it made her angry that Pru was putting her in that category. She was not like that. "I'll never cut my hair," she said.

"Well, perhaps Beth won't let you," Pru smiled again, teasing. "It might make you too obvious."

When they reached the corner Pru hailed a cab and let Anne enter first.

"Fifth and Twelfth Street," Anne said.

They sat back, Pru shut the door, and the cab raced down the lonely street to catch the changing light.

Anne twisted Pru's ring around her finger. It was forming a blister.

"Psychological," Pru said, watching her hands. "You can take it off, Anne. I'll keep it for you in case you come back."

Anne looked at her, a little frightened again. She didn't want to break with Pru. But she also wanted to see Beth. She felt very confused. "I'll keep it on," she said, pushing the ring far back on her finger.

It was not far to Twelfth Street and the cab driver turned in, reached Fifth Avenue, and stopped.

"There you are," Pru said. She opened the door for Anne to get out and then looked at the street. "Paradise is near here," she said. "You can find me there until closing time."

Anne got out quietly, fighting a mounting fear in her chest. The lonely street and the thought of leaving Pru panicked her. She took Pru's hand and held it tightly.

Pru squeezed Anne's hand fondly for a moment and then withdrew. "Goodnight, Alice," she said, imitating Jacques a little, then shut the door.

Anne watched the cab drive off and turned toward Beth’s house.

Anne had never been in Beth's apartment. She had come to see the house, to mark it in her mind as the place where Beth lived, but she had never been upstairs. It was a small brownstone, bursting with old Washington Square tradition, on what was in daylight a very lovely street. She walked down three steps to the front door and rang the bell.

Beth buzzed back quickly. She lived on the top floor. Anne walked up the three flights slowly. Unreality was making her dizzy. At the top she heard Beth open the door timidly.

"Anne?"

Anne hurried the last few steps to the door and stood. Beth was very beautiful, her platinum hair forming a halo around her face. Desire and intensity began to wear away the unreal feeling, making Anne not flesh again exactly but aware of her body, her robot body, now strong and tall and very hard.

"Come in," Beth said hurriedly, stepping back from the door to give Anne room.

Anne entered and looked around. It was a pretty apartment, overly decorated with conventional furniture, almost like Carl's study, but in light colors instead of Carl's dark red leather. It was dainty, like Beth.

Anne let Beth take her jacket and waited for her to come back from the closet. "I got your letter," she said finally.

"My God, Anne," Beth said, "is that all you came to say?" She was upset and went to the cabinet for a glass of scotch. "It was very embarrassing to ask Rick to leave."

"Yes, it must have been embarrassing," Anne said. She felt the rage inside of her grow again. Beth was being weak. She went to the cabinet and took the scotch away from Beth's hand. "Has Rick touched you tonight?"

Beth turned away. "We had just gotten in when you called. I sent him right out again. What do you want, Anne?"

Anne pulled her close and forced Beth to look at her. "I've come to take you away from him," she said.

"Don't be insane," Beth turned. "I can't leave yet. We'll have to wait."

"I won't wait," Anne said. "I don't want you after Rick."

"Please, Anne." Beth tried to break away. Anne held her wrist tightly and took her shoulder with her other hand. The feeling for Beth was not the same now. It was an aware feeling, but a hard, dull awareness, with cool and calculated passion. She felt Beth melt and cling to her. Beth seemed overcome with warm and helpless wanting. Her body met Anne's, willing and impatient.

Anne lifted Beth up gently, surprised at her own strength, and carried her to the sofa. Then Anne sat on the rug, watching her.

"You're different tonight," Beth said. "I like you very much this way."

"I'm grown up," Anne said.

"Please don't stop," Beth said. She seemed very helpless as she lay on the sofa.

"I won't," Anne said. She continued, coldly, apart from the scene, like someone watching. She wondered what was happening to her. It wasn't as it had been with Beth before—this woman did not seem special any more. And it wasn't as it had been with Pru. She had forgotten herself with Pru, and here she was apart from herself, almost contemptuous. Yes, it was contempt; she resented Beth's helplessness and her weak passion. She was pleasing Beth now and in anger only.

But she was suddenly ashamed to feel this way. She forced herself to be part of the scene, forced herself to bring back what she had felt with Pru. She succeeded for moment—but then Beth brought her back.

Beth had forgotten Anne. She was lost in passionate desire, but it was not for Anne. Anne was only there by accident. Beth was enjoying a man, was making Anne a man. It filled Anne with disgust and she wanted to stop, but she could not stop. Beth needed her. Anne could not stop. She had to complete what she had started. Pru, where are you, she screamed in her mind. Only Beth's tortured voice answered her, saying, "More butch."

* * *

The radio's sound filled the air with noisy static, making the soft-lit room seem to flicker with the light of a fireplace. Anne turned around—there was a fireplace. She got up wearily and went to the radio to turn it off. The immediate silence cleared her head. She went back and stood over Beth on the sofa. Beth had turned her head and closed her eyes. She wasn't sleeping, but nearly so. Anne wanted to leave now, perhaps in the same way that Esther had left Anne three day ago; Anne wanted to leave without a word. But she did not. She owed Beth something. She knelt down again and kissed Beth's hand.

"I'm going now, Beth," she said, and waited for Beth speak.

Beth turned her head slowly and looked at Anne. Beauty was back in her face, the nervousness gone and the worry, Her light gold hair was slightly mussed but still clinging around her head in gracious lines.

"Don't go yet," Beth said. "We have until one.”

"I have to go," Anne said. She felt cold. Beth hadn't changed at all. She was still expecting Rick. Anne couldn’t be angry, but something in her had died.

"Please don't go," Beth repeated. "Not yet."

"I can't stay," Anne sighed. She turned and paced the floor. It was difficult still to deny Beth. "I don't think I can ever come back."

Beth looked at her, puzzled. "Why?" she said in a soft voice. "Have I done something wrong?"

"No," Anne said. She knew now Beth had done nothing that was wrong for herself. "It's just that I'm not a man and you're not a Lesbian, Beth." Anne looked at Beth sadly now. It was a hard thing to say.

"But I love you now, Anne," Beth said. It was a difficult thing for Beth to admit. "I love you."

Anne appreciated how difficult it was for Beth to say that. And Anne had wanted Beth to say it for two years. She had dreamed of the moment that Beth would say it, would have the courage to say it. But the words only made Anne sad. She swallowed the feeling in her throat that was making her want to cry.

"You don't love me, Beth," she said, kissing her hand again and then getting up, still holding it. "You feel safe with me. Because I'm not a man, only a harmless facsimile thereof." She paused now and looked a long time at Beth, feeling very close to Pru, even very much like her.

"Please stay," Beth said softly, turning away. "I need you."

"I'm bad for you," Anne said. "You need Rick—or someone else." The room was a prison now and Beth a symbol of Anne's selfishness—selfishness because she did not want to listen to her, did not want to have pity, selfishness because now she wanted to be happy and happiness did not include Beth.

"I guess you are," Beth said. She got up slowly. Her whole body reflected sadness. "You'd better go before Rick comes back."

Anne stood. Beth was freeing her and now her feet were of stone, not able to move.

Beth went to the closet and brought Anne's jacket. They stood near each other and Anne looked at her. The love for Beth had not gone, only the desire. And then Anne understood what it had been all along. Beth was like Mother. That was why the feeling had been so intense, so paralyzing. And also why it had ended so quickly. Anne had grown up. She no longer needed Mother—but she loved her.