“Come on to bed.” Laura turned and walked toward her and Marcie preceded her into the bedroom. It occurred to her then that she was behaving with Marcie much as Beth used to behave with her. She was asserting herself, taking the lead. She liked it; with Marcie, anyway. She felt her influence and reveled in it. A feeling of tremendous strength swept through her when the man turned and left, like the other poor demented little fellow who pestered her on the subway. Only he was such a weakling he hardly counted. She had a mental image of herself treating Merrill Landon that way, and it worked a strange exaltation in her. She smiled.
Marcie grinned at her crookedly. “I thought you’d be sore,” she said.
“No. No, of course not. Why should I be?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because I felt kind of guilty going out with somebody besides Burr. But I had fun. Up to the end, anyway. I wouldn’t have minded that if he hadn’t slobbered so much.” She giggled and Laura ignored what she said. They were standing less than a foot from each other and suddenly Laura reached for her and gave her a little hug. “I’m not mad. I’m just glad you’re all right,” she said.
Marcie submitted, but she seemed embarrassed, and Laura quickly released her. With the release came a letdown, a loss of strength and confidence. She slipped quietly into bed and spent the hours till dawn wrestling with the bedclothes.
Laura didn’t feel much brighter than Marcie in the morning. She got to work on time, but all she wanted to do was sleep. I’ve got to catch up. I’ve got to catch up, she kept telling herself. Less than three weeks and Jean’ll be back. And I haven’t done a really good day’s work since she left. Even if they like me, they can’t keep me on as a charity case.
The episode at the McAlton flamed up in her mind and gave her an angry energy through most of the morning. Sarah said nothing to her, but she kept looking at her over her typewriter, apparently afraid to bring up the date subject again. It wasn’t till Jack called that Laura even remembered it.
“All set,” he said. “Carl Jensen can go. Friday night. Dinner and a show. What’s Sarah’s number?”
Laura got it from her and made her face light up with expectation. Jack put Carl on the phone, and Laura gave her end to Sarah. It gave her a momentary lift to see somebody else stammering with pleasure and anticipation. But the day she lived through was endless, bleak with undone work, dragging will, impotent anger.
“You’re late,” Marcie said when Laura walked in. “I wanted you to tell me about that book Burr brought over last week.”
“Nothing to tell.” Laura felt too low to talk, to joke, even to eat. She picked listlessly at her food. After a while Marcie fell silent, too.
When the dishes were done Marcie said, “I called Burr. Broke our date tonight.” She looked expectantly at Laura, as if this were a significant revelation, and she wanted a proper reaction.
But Laura only said, “Oh?” and walked into the bedroom.
Marcie followed her. “What’s the matter, Laur?” she said. And when Laura didn’t answer, she asked, “Bad day?”
“Um-hm. Bad day.” Laura lay down on her bed, face downward, one leg hanging over the edge, her mind wholly occupied with her father: her hatred, her stifled love for him, her fear of him.
“Talk to me, Laura,” Marcie said, coming over to sit next to her.
“Not tonight.”
“Please. You said you would.”
“I can’t, Marcie. I can’t talk. I’m too tired.” She rolled over and looked at her. “Don’t look like that,” she said. “I’m—I’m worried about my job, that’s all. I’ll be all right.”
“What’s wrong with your job?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh, Laura! God! Make sense!” Marcie exclaimed. But when she evoked no response she dropped it with a sigh. “Let’s go out on the roof,” she said, “and get some fresh air. It’s a beautiful night.”
“Looks like rain.”
“How would you know? You’re staring at the ceiling.”
“It did, earlier.”
“That’s what’s beautiful about it. Maybe there’ll be thunder. I love to stand naked in the rain.” She glanced down slowly at Laura.
But Laura turned back on her stomach without a word. A terrible apathy nailed her to the bed. Not even the nearness of Marcie could arouse her. They sat quietly for a few minutes, Laura lost in herself, and Marcie searching for a way to cheer her up. The phone rang.
“I’ll get it,” Marcie said, and got up. She walked across the room and picked up the receiver when Laura suddenly remembered Beebo. She sat up in a rush.
“No,” Marcie was saying, “I can’t. I’m sorry. I don’t want to argue, not any more. I’ve had enough, that’s all. I won’t talk to you, Burr. No, it’s not her fault, it’s nobody’s fault.” She looked at Laura stretched out again on her bed. “That has nothing to do with it. No. Good night, Burr.”
She hung up and stood for a moment motionless, watching Laura, who lay with her face turned away, apparently relaxed. Burr was getting jealous, impatient. He was ready to accuse anybody of anything to get Marcie’s favor back. Their phone conversations were little more than arguments which Marcie terminated by hanging up on him. But he wouldn’t be put off for long.
Marcie sat down on her own bed with a book, the one she meant to ask Laura about. She stared at the pages without reading, and wondered about her moody roommate.
Laura was watching her wristwatch. It was two minutes fast. She lay still, but she was alert, poised to jump. At two minutes past eight, by her watch, the phone rang again. “It’s for me,” she told Marcie, who had no intention of going for it. Laura came across the room and sat on Marcie’s bed.
“Hello?” she said into the receiver.
“Hi, lover. Where are you?”
“At home,” Laura said sarcastically. “Where
