“Laura!” she said, with such passionate relief that Laura went to her instantly and threw her arms around her and wept.
She could feel Beebo’s tears on her face and she hugged her tight in a frenzy of sympathy and sorrow and whispered over and over, “Beebo, darling. Beebo, darling.”
It was a long time before either of them made sense; a long time before either could speak. Laura finally raised herself on one elbow so she could see Beebo better.
“What’s the matter with me?” she said softly. “I should be taking care of you. Crying isn’t going to do you any good.” She started to get up but Beebo caught her, and Laura was heartened to feel the strength in her arms.
“Stay with me, baby,” she said, almost fiercely.
“Let me clean you up, Beebo. Let me make you comfortable. Please, sweetheart.”
“Laura, I don’t need anything but you. Just let me feel you lying beside me and I’ll get over it somehow. I won’t lose my mind. If you’ll just stay with me. Please.”
There were tears in her voice and rather than make her more miserable, Laura obeyed. She put her arms around Beebo and cuddled against her in a way she had almost forgotten.
“Beebo, can you talk about it, darling? Can you tell me what happened?”
“Not now. Not yet,”
“I think you ought to see a doctor. You’ve got some awful-looking bruises.”
“You’re my doctor.”
“Beebo, I’m scared. I don’t even know what happened to you. I want to call a doctor,” she said urgently.
“I don’t need a doctor,” Beebo declared.
“Please tell me what happened,” Laura pleaded. She lay at the edge of the bed, her face away from the floor and the grisly spectacle of the little dog she had never liked very well and now felt such a horrified pity for.
“It’s an old story,” Beebo said, her voice tired and bitter, but curiously resigned. “I don’t know why it didn’t happen to me years sooner. Nearly every butch I know gets it one way or another. Sooner or later they catch up with you.”
“Who catches up with you?”
“The goddamn sonofabitch toughs who think it’s smart to pick fights with Lesbians. They ask you who the hell do you think you are, going around in pants all the time. They say if you’re going to wear pants and act like a man you can damn well fight like a man. And they jump you for laughs…God.”
Her hand went up to her face, which was contorted with remembered pain and fury. After a silence of several minutes while she composed herself a little she resumed briefly, “So they jumped me. They followed me home, hollering all the way. I hollered back. I—I was pretty tight and it was pretty noisy. I should have been more careful. I shouldn’t have brought them here, but I knew you wouldn’t be home so soon…I didn’t work today, baby.” She said it guiltily, and Laura knew it meant she had spent the day at Julian’s or the Cellar or one of the other homosexual bars. But she didn’t condemn her or shout, “You’ll lose your job!” as she would have another time. She only listened in silence.
“So anyway,” Beebo said, after an awkward pause, “I came home early. About four-thirty, I guess. They just followed me in. Oh, I got in the apartment all right and slammed the door and locked it. But one of them came up the fire escape and he let the others in. Gave me this.” She pointed to the cut under her eye, and Laura kissed it. “I thought I’d gotten rid of them, baby, but those bastards followed me right up here and tried to prove what men they are.” She spat the words out as if they had a bad taste and then she stopped, looking at Laura to see how she was taking it. And Laura, lying next to her and holding her tight, was overwhelmed with helpless anger and pity and even a sort of love for Beebo.
Beebo felt Laura clinging to her and the flow of sympathy warmed and encouraged her. Finally she said, softly, as if the whole thing had been her fault and she was ashamed of it, “I’m not a virgin anymore, Laura. Don’t ever let a man touch you.” She said it vehemently, her fingers digging into the submissive girl at her side and her hurt face turned to Laura’s. Laura let out a little sob and pulled closer to her.
“Beebo, darling,” she said in a broken voice, “I can’t stand to think of it. I can’t stand to think of how it must have hurt. I know I’m a coward, I can’t help it.” And then, in her anxiety to heal the bitter misery of it, she blurted, “I love you, Beebo.”
Beebo pulled her very close and lifted her face and kissed it delicately, almost reverently, for a very long time. At last she whispered, her lips against Laura’s lips, “I adore you, Laura. You’re my life. Stay with me, stay with me, don’t ever leave me. I can stand this, I can stand anything, if you’re with me. Swear you’ll stay with me, darling.”
Laura’s voice stuck in her throat. She couldn’t refuse. And yet she knew full well she would be swearing to a lie. It made her hide her face in painful indecision for a moment.
“Swear,” Beebo demanded imperiously. “Swear, Laura!”
“I swear,” Laura sobbed. She felt Beebo relax then with a sigh, running her hands through Laura’s hair.
Beebo gave a
