Tris broke into a charming smile then, as if to placate her visitor. “I want everybody to like me,” she said. “I suppose it is a compulsion left from my childhood.” And, as if she had made a guilty admission, she turned away abruptly saying, “Let’s go into the kitchen. If I stand in here I will feel obliged to dance.”
Laura followed her and sat down self-consciously. Tris fixed a plate of cookies and gave her a glass of milk. She smiled.
“I am hard to know, Laura. I am not very gracious. But I like your company.” Her smile was as warm and luscious as ripe fruit in the sun.
They finished the food over small talk about men. Laura was lost, silent. She just nodded agreement and listened with dismay. She’s trying to tell me she doesn’t like girls, she thought. But it’s a lie!
Tris rinsed the plates, watching herself all the while in one mirror or another. It was as if she felt herself on exhibition all the time, as if all those mirrors were scattered around to remind her of her own beauty.
Tris dried her hands and turned to face Laura. There was an awkward pause and Laura realized suddenly that she was supposed to get up and leave. They had had their small talk. She had been served food. That was all she could reasonably expect from her hostess, especially since she was an uninvited guest. She felt her heart contract a little in disappointment, and she thought with a flash of yearning of the intimacies of her last visit.
But she was too proud to overstay her welcome, especially after the way Tris had shown her the door last time. So she got up and said, “Thanks Tris. I have to go.”
“Oh?” It was merely polite.
“Beebo’s expecting me.”
“I see.” No protest. Tris followed her toward the front door. “Ask me over to your apartment sometime, Laura. You would make a much nicer hostess than I. Besides, I should like to see how your big roommate looks in pants. She does wear pants?”
“Yes, she does.” Laura turned to look at her curiously. “But she’s a jealous hellion.”
Tris leaned on the wall by the door, crossing her feet at the ankles.
“Does she know you have been here to visit me?” Her smile was sly, interested.
“No. I don’t think she even remembers you,” Laura said shortly.
“Ah! Flattering. Do you think it’s wise to make a secret of our friendship, Laura?”
“It’s either that or get my neck broken,” Laura said.
Tris laughed a little, as if the idea of such hard play amused her. “Laura…would you like to stay a little longer?” she said. Her voice made it sound very inviting.
“I can’t.” Laura was upset by all the talk of Beebo.
“As long as you leave by eight it would be all right,” Tris said. “I have a date at eight.”
“With a man?”
“Certainly with a man. I have no secrets, Laura. I do not like to cheat, like you. You cheat with your Beebo by seeing me. But still—” she hunched her shoulders and smiled—“I like you. You like me. Perhaps it is worth the risk. You are the one who will get your neck broken, not me. I have no right to deny you your pain.”
Laura frowned at her. It was an odd thing to say. Tris put her hands on Laura’s arms and they stood that way, silent, for a moment.
At last Tris said, “Dance with me.”
“I don’t know how,” Laura said shyly.
“I am a teacher. I teach you. Come on.”
“I’m so clumsy, Tris.”
But Tris pulled her to the middle of the studio and put a record on. She stood for a minute in front of Laura as if trying to make up her mind where to grasp her, how to start. Laura felt impossibly awkward. But Tris made up her mind quickly and slipped her arms around Laura’s neck. Laura was two inches taller than she and Tris was obliged to look up at her when she spoke.
“We will just do it like the teenagers!” she said. “There is nothing to it really. Stand in one place and shift your weight from one foot to the other, with the beat. That’s it. You’ve got it. That’s a good beginning.”
Laura couldn’t help laughing. “Even I can do that much,” she said.
“Ah. Then there is hope. Next year at this time you will do the tour jeté.”
Laura had her arms around Tris at the waist and they swayed gently to the music, and suddenly all her suspicion and embarrassment faded. She became conscious of the tantalizing jasmine that emanated from Tris—from her throat and her hair and her breasts, barely covered by the bandeau. The black braid moved softly against Laura’s bare arms in back and Tris put her cheek against Laura’s, tilting her face up. Her lips were near Laura’s ear and she whispered, “You know, Laura, I must tell you something. You are a homosexual. Yes?”
Laura swallowed. “Yes,” she said.
“You should know then…I am not. Not like you. I like the company of girls, yes. My dance pupils. Friends. But I love men. I love them. Do you understand?”
“No.” Laura shut her eyes and pulled Tris a little tighter. “Well, then, I will explain. Men excite me. All men, I mean. The idea of men…It is hard to say. But I would rather be with a man than with a woman. But now and then I meet a woman who interests me. And sometimes the interest goes beyond just talk. You see?”
“No.”
“Sometimes I want to kiss her. Or be close to her. But that is all. Now do you see?”
“No.”
Tris gave an impatient little sigh. “I am telling you I am not queer like you!” she said sharply and Laura winced with sudden pain. Tris felt it and she amended quickly, “That is an unkind word. You people call it gay. All right. I am not gay. I like
