He liked them both, but he loved Laura as well. In his own private way he loved her, and if it ever came to a showdown it was Laura he would side with.
At last Beebo said softly, “Don’t shut me out, Laura.”
Laura disengaged herself slightly. “If you didn’t drink so much I wouldn’t shut you out.”
“If you didn’t shut me out I wouldn’t drink so much!” Beebo shouted, suddenly. “I wouldn’t have to.”
“Beebo, you drink because you like to get drunk. You were drunk the night I met you and you’ve been more or less drunk ever since. I didn’t do it to you, you did it to yourself. You like the taste of whiskey, that’s all. So don’t give me a sob story about my driving you to drink.”
“There you go, getting holy on me again. Who says you don’t like whiskey?”
“I have a drink now and then,” Laura flashed at her. “There are so many damn whiskey bottles in this apartment I’d have to be blind to avoid them.”
Jack laughed. “I’m blind,” he said, “most of the time. But I can always find the booze. In fact, the blinder I am the better I find it.” He chuckled at his own nonsense and swirled the spiked coffee in his cup.
“Laura, you lie,” Beebo said. “You lie in your teeth. You just like the way it tastes, like me.”
Laura had been drinking too much lately. Not as much as Beebo, but still too much. She didn’t know exactly why. She blamed it on a multiplicity of bad breaks, but never on herself. “If you wouldn’t drag me around to the bars all night,” she said. “If you wouldn’t continually ask me to drink with you….”
“I ask you, Bo-peep. I don’t twist your arm.” She eyed Laura foggily.
Laura turned to Jack. “Do I drink as much as Beebo?” she demanded. “Am I an alcoholic?”
Beebo gave a snort. “Jack,” she mimicked, “am I an alcoholic?”
“Do you have beer for breakfast?” he asked her.
“No.”
“Do you take a bottle to bed?”
“No.”
“Do you get soused for weeks at a time?”
“No.”
“Do you…have a cocktail now and then?”
“Yes.”
“You’re an alcoholic.”
Beebo threw a wet dishcloth at him.
“I’m going to bed,” Laura announced abruptly.
“What’s the matter, baby, can’t you take it?”
“Enough is too much, that’s all.”
“Enough of what?”
“Of you!”
Beebo turned a cynical face to Jack “That means I can sleep on the couch tonight,” she said. “Too bad. I was just getting used to the bed again….” She hiccuped, and smiled sadly. “Don’t you think we make an ideal couple, Laura and me?”
“Inspirational,” Jack said. “They should serialize you in all the women’s magazines. Give you a free honeymoon in Jersey City.”
“Knowing us as well as you do, Doctor,” Beebo said, and Laura, her teeth clenched, stood waiting in the doorway to hear what she was going to say, “what would you recommend in our case?”
“Nothing. It’s hopeless. Go home and die, you’ll feel better,” he said
“Don’t say that.” Suddenly Beebo wasn’t kidding.
“All right. I won’t say it. I retract my statement.”
“Revise it?”
“God, in my condition?” he said doubtfully. “Well…I’ll try. Let’s see… My friends, the patient is dead of the wrong disease. The operation was a success. There is only one remedy.”
“What’s that?” Laura asked him.
“Bury the doctor. Oops, I got that one wrong too. Excuse me, ladies. I mean, marry the doctor. Laura, will you marry me?”
“No.” She smiled at him.
“I’m an alcoholic,” he offered, as if that might persuade her.
“You’re damn near as irresistible as I am, Jackson,” Beebo said. She said it bitterly, and the tone of her voice turned Laura on her heel and sent her out of the room to bed. Beebo went to the open kitchen door and leaned unsteadily on it.
“Laura, you’re a bitch!” she called after her. “Laura, baby, I hate you! I hate you! Listen to me!” She waited while Laura slammed the door behind her and then stood with her head bowed. Finally she looked up and whispered, “I love you, baby.”
She turned back to Jack, who had finished the coffee and was now drinking out of the whiskey bottle without bothering with a glass. “What do you do with a girl like that?” she asked.
Jack shrugged. “Take the lock off the bedroom door.”
“I already did.”
“Didn’t work?”
“Worked swell. She made me sleep on the couch for five days.”
“Why do you put up with it?”
“Why did you? It was your turn not so long ago, friend.”
“Because you’re crazy blind in love.” He looked toward her out of unfocused eyes. Jack’s body got very intoxicated when he drank heavily, but his mind did not. It was a curious situation and it produced bitter wisdom, sometimes witty and more often painful.
Beebo slumped in a chair and put her hands tight over her face. Some moments passed in silence before Jack realized she was crying. “I’m a fool,” she whispered. “I drink too much, she’s right. I always did. And now I’ve got her doing it.”
“Don’t be a martyr, Beebo. It’s unbecoming.”
“I’m no martyr, damn it. I just see how unhappy she is, how she is dying to get away from me, and then I see her brighten up when she’s had a couple, and I can only think one thing: I’m doing it to her. That’s my contribution to Laura’s life. And I love her so. I love her so.” And the tears spilled over her cheeks again.
Jack took one last drink and then left the bottle sitting in the sink. He said, “I love her too. I wish I could help.”
“You can. Quit proposing to her.”
“You think I should?”
“Never mind what I think. It’s unprintable. I’m just telling you, quit proposing to her.”
“She’ll never say
