Odd Girl (6 page)

"Now let me lead," Skippy said. "I can't follow that."

Anne laughed. "All right."

Skippy pulled her close so that their bodies touched and this slowed up the rhythm. Anne realized she had wasted time. This was much better. Skippy's arms were long and sure, but they were soft, like Beth's, and her cheek was smooth in the same way. Anne knew that it was not only Beth who could make her thrill, that she could feel the same yearning for another woman. It dawned upon her then that this was the purpose of dancing closely. She had never been able to understand why Mark wanted to dance closely—what could possibly be so exciting about it? She had preferred to exhibit and to let loose—and yet now she knew that she preferred to dance closely, that awareness of the partner was the purpose of dancing.

"Do you mind going so slow?" Skippy whispered in her ear.

"No, it's fun," Anne said. Deep inside of her she was slightly shocked at her own ability to enjoy it. Skippy was a stranger, someone who could never be her type emotionally or culturally; yet she was a woman and this made her exciting—for one evening only, perhaps, but still exciting. Then convention won over her and she broke away.

"I'm sorry," she said. "We shouldn't go on."

Skippy smiled. "Forget it. My technique's too fast." They walked back to Anne's table and sat down.

Anne was silent. She did not want to be Skippy's date for the evening. It would have been simple to let that happen, but there would be no point to it. Skippy was not the Beth she sought. She would sit for a while and would find Paradise alone. She wondered how she might explain, but Skippy spoke for her.

"Look, I know I'm not your type," she said, "but taking you to Paradise was just a friendly offer. Honest." Anne looked at her. She was smiling with great understanding and Anne knew that despite her apparent coarseness she was sensitive and aware of others’ thoughts and feelings in a way that was rare. Jacques was that way too, and Anne; but Beth was not, nor was Mark.

"What makes you think I'm not your type?" Anne said. She did not want to hurt her.

"Experience," Skippy responded.

 Anne smiled and their eyes met in friendship. Jacques came through the swinging door and broke their glance. "Doll, there you are! I've got someone for you to meet. She's at the Florentin now." He tugged her arm, but when he saw Skippy he apologized.

"It's all right," Skippy said. "You run along. Maybe we'll see each other-later, at Paradise."

"It's a date," Anne said. She let Jacques lead her out of the bar.

"Mary, you picked the weirdest trade," Jacques said to her when they were on the sidewalk. "I thought you could handle yourself."

"It's not the women I have to be careful of," Anne laughed. "She's really a damned nice kid."

"Well, come and meet Esther." He was impatient. Anne observed with amusement that Jacques really couldn't stand masculine women any more than masculine women could stand feminine men.

"Just a minute." She stopped him before they entered the coffee shop. "Exactly who is Esther?"

Jacques gave an impatient sigh. "She lives with Carl, who is one of my lovers, in a penthouse. She's Kosher French and spent her childhood in convents hiding from the Nazis. I think she was also in the Resistance. Anyway she's hard as nails but simply dashing."

He would say no more but pulled her by the wrist into the Florentin and through the maze of tables in a direct line toward the back. But Anne could not just walk into the Florentin without the usual ritual and they were hindered first by Marcel who ran up and embraced her and said "Princess, where have you been?" and then Jennie who extended her hand and said "Hi, femme fatale," and then Carol who tried to stop Jacques. But Jacques would not let them be stopped and pulled her onward until finally they had reached the rear of the coffee shop and stopped at a small table. Then Anne saw her. A girl—no, a woman—ageless-looking, thin and pale, with slender fingers and short, black hair, deep-set, pitchblack eyes.

"Esther," Jacques called.

Esther turned and the full depth of her eyes struck Anne. "Hello," she said. Her voice was low and matched her eyes and contrasted dramatically with her pale skin.

Anne let their glances touch and smiled.

"This is Anne," Jacques said. He pulled chairs for the two of them and then made Anne sit down.

"Hello, Anne," Esther said. She had a half-smile and her mind seemed fogged with other thoughts and yet her black eyes seemed to burn clear through to Anne's spine, making Anne dizzy and weak.

"Hello, Esther." She forced herself to speak. This was silly; she was behaving like a child again. She ought to have better control. She forced the dizziness to fade and brought the Florentin right-side up again.

"Jacques tells me you're looking for Lesbian bars," Esther said.

"Yes," Anne said; she was unable to make conversation.

"Have you tried Paradise?"

Anne nodded, "Someone offered to take me there tonight. I do want to go."

"I'm on my way there now," Esther said. "We can walk together if you like."

"That will be fine," Anne said. She hoped that she did not seem too anxious.

Esther regarded her with an amused half-smile. Her eyes were studying Anne, who did not allow her expression to change, though she could barely keep her lips from trembling. Finally she said, "I hear you were in the Resistance."

Esther laughed. "Who told you that?"

"Jacques said he thought you were."

"I was eleven years old." She looked away to the front of the shop and fingered her coffee cup. Jacques seemed to have left them and joined the cast at the other table. "Shall we go?" Esther said.

Anne rose and followed her out of the Florentin.

The night air was clear and they walked slowly, not speaking, through the park. Esther's long legs unconsciously took longer strides that would take her ahead of Anne and then she stopped and waited for her to catch up—and yet they were walking slowly. When she was ahead of her Anne could see and admire her, her tasteful clothes and slender ankles. She wore sandals because her feet were beautiful, like her hands and her face. There was a warmth around her despite her outward coldness. Anne wondered if Jacques had seen it. But she decided it was only for women's eyes.

"How old are you?" Esther said.

"Twenty."

"That's too bad," she said and smiled.

"Why?" Anne said.

"Not twenty-one."

"What happens at twenty-one that doesn't already happen at eighteen?"

Esther laughed and stopped to sit on a bench, her slender legs apart, and looked at the ground.

"How old are you?" Anne said.

"Twenty-four."

"Too bad," she chuckled. "Not twenty."

"Are you really gay?" Esther said.

"No, I'm terribly sad," Anne replied. "I can't find a Lesbian anywhere!"

Esther did not laugh. "Seriously—how do you know?"

Anne grew serious too. "I'm certain, I think. When I'm with men I don't feel alive, but with women—"

"Have you slept with men?" Esther interrupted.

"Just Mark—my husband," Anne explained.

"And with women?"

"Yes, once." She was quiet. She did not want to discuss Beth. She could talk about Mark but Beth was sacred.

"And you don't like Mark," Esther said after a while.

"No," Anne said.

"You weren't compatible."

"Oh, no, that wasn't it," Anne said. She felt that she had to explain and yet it was so difficult. "I just didn't feel alive or happy with him. I could have gotten the same results from an electric vibrator."

Esther laughed loudly. "But you were happy with this woman."

"Yes."

Esther did not speak but sat looking off in the distance for a while. Then suddenly she got up and said, "Come."

They resumed their walk and reached the other side of the park and went down one of the side streets to a place with a half-lit sign. It said PARADISE. It was downstairs, over a dark set of steps, through an obscure red door.

The bouncer challenged them at the door and asked that they prove their age. Esther took out her driver's license and Anne her learner's permit. This satisfied him and he let them pass. Anne wondered if his name was Peter.

Paradise was clean, not like the Oval, and painted blue. It might have passed for a favorite college hangout near some campus. The customers were ivy-league sorority types and the waiters were men dressed like waiters are on Park Avenue. *

Esther headed for the bar and Anne followed her. Her eyes were searching the dark corners for someone. Absentmindedly she told the bartender to bring two beers.

"Are you meeting someone?" Anne asked.

Esther nodded. "I have three dates tonight. It depends which of them shows up first." Then she looked up at Anne and smiled. "Tell me about Mark," she said. "Are you still married?"

"Our annulment's in the works," Anne said.

There was another long silence and then Esther said, "Do you enjoy art?"

Anne nodded. "I've even gone back to painting lately."

Esther was not impressed, but she said, "Come with me to the museum sometime."

"When?" Anne asked. She had decided to be bold.

"Perhaps next Saturday." She took out a card with her name on it and wrote down her telephone number.

"Carl had these made up to amuse me," she said. "Call on us, will you? And bring Jacques."

Anne took the card and put it carefully in her wallet. "I'd like to very much," she said.

Esther became silent. Anne knew that she had done with talking and so she sat silently too and inspected the bar. More women were coming in and Anne watched them. Each one was different and some were attractive; most were masculine but there were no distinctively masculine or feminine types; each might have passed for either with the proper clothing. Then a girl came in, alone. She was a massive girl and nearly stooped to fit through the door. She wore a pair of paint-stained jeans and an man's old shirt which somehow made her look quite beautiful. Her hair was close-cropped and her face was classic. Anne thought first of Michelangelo and then of a Greek vase depicting Orpheus.

Esther turned then, saw her, and waved. The girl came toward them, wiping perspiration from her forehead.

"Hi," she said to Esther. "Sorry I'm late. I got involved. I've got to go back to it soon, though—but you can sit there and watch me."

"That will be fine," Esther said. She turned to Anne and said to her. "Do use that card."

Anne nodded. The two turned from her and walked toward the back to a table behind a pillar and Anne thought as she watched them—So that's my rival; funny, they're both so attractive either one would do.

But she had no time to pine for them. A familiar voice said behind her, "Can I buy you a drink?"

Anne turned and saw Skippy. She was smiling happily because they had met again; Paradise made her look less sinister.

She was a plain girl now, perhaps from the Lower East Side, with only a little high school education. Anne smiled and said "Hi. I'll buy you one."

Skippy laughed. "There you go again. Okay." She ordered beer and Anne switched to scotch.

"Did you meet your friend?" Skippy asked.

"Uh-uh," Anne grunted with a sigh.

"Oh." Skippy paused. "I guess that means you're alone for the eve."

Anne looked down at her glass. "Yes."

Skippy laughed and slapped her back. "Cheer up—there are lots of others."

Anne laughed. "Are you looking for someone too?"

"Me?" Skippy looked down. "Naw, not yet. I just got off a ten-day drunk over the last one."

"Why?"

"A long story," she said. "I used to work at Cora's—up to two weeks ago."

"What's Cora's?" Anne became interested. Skippy was becoming "people" and she wanted to know what made her tick.

"A dive way over west," she said. "It's better than the Oval, but not as good as here."

"Why did you break up?"

"She likes men," Skippy said; now she seemed annoyed and irritated and she drank her beer more determinedly.

Anne put her hand on Skippy's wrist and stopped her from lifting the glass again. "Want to dance?"

Skippy looked at her and laughed. "Oh, no," she said, "you're dynamite."

Anne smiled. "I'd never danced that way before—with a girl."

"I should've known," Skippy said. "Where are you from, anyway?"

"New York, mostly. I was born in Austria."

"Yeah? You don't sound like a foreigner."

Anne laughed. "I've lived here all my life. And you?"

"New York," she said, "three generations American. From Italy." They both laughed and Skippy drank some more.

Anne looked toward the back to see if Esther was still there. The two had gotten up and were paying their check. A sudden loneliness gripped her. There was no reason to remain in Paradise. She watched them leave and wanted to follow.

"Want to come to Cora's?" Skippy seemed to read her mind. "It's noisy there and wild, but it's safe if you're with me."

"Sure," she said.

They waited a moment for Skippy to finish her beer and then went into the air again. A little rain had fallen and it made the cars swish as they passed and the trees smell sweet. Anne took Skippy's arm and they walked slowly.

Skippy said, "This girl you were meeting—know her long?"

Anne shook her head. "I met her tonight. It'll probably come to nothing."

"Aw, don't say that," Skippy said. "There's no reason why you can't make out. You've got all it takes."

Anne smiled. "Thanks."

A late full moon pointed their way back across the park and past the Oval toward downtown and west. The park and the street beyond it were filled with tourists now, mostly rough young men and servicemen out to pick up girls. Skippy and Anne walked past them and endured the wisecracks and dodged the hands and bodies that tried to block their way.

"They ought to put a cop on this street," Skippy said. "We could use some real police protection instead of all the plainclothesmen they've got out trapping queens."

"Do they really trap homos?" Anne asked. She had heard that it was so but it seemed such a silly waste of time.