“Thank you, Milo,” Laura called after him, but her voice was so low and husky with emotion that he did not hear her.
There followed a long strange silence while Beebo stared at her. Laura kept her eyes on her toes, afraid to meet that penetrating gaze.
At last Beebo crushed her cigarette and lay down on the bed, crossing her feet and stuffing her hands behind the pillow to raise her head.
“All right, Laura,” she said calmly. “You’re here. Tell me what you want.”
Laura looked up then, slowly, still very afraid. She was prepared for any violence, any brutality. It no longer mattered if Beebo hurt her or not. She was ready to submit to anything if Beebo would only take her back.
“What do you want?” Beebo said.
“To stay,” she whispered.
Beebo’s eyes widened with surprise. “To stay? With me?” She looked away then at the wall. “You could have stayed last August.”
“Last August I was miserably unhappy because of you. I had to get away. I found out I’m more unhappy without you than with you.”
Beebo laughed outright then. “Doesn’t give you much of a choice, does it?” she said and her voice was not kind. Her laughter made Laura realize that she was a little drunk. Laura walked over to the side of the bed and knelt beside it, with her heart working as if it had taken her up a stiff hill.
Beebo turned her head to watch her. “What’s that for?” she said, catching a corner of her pajamas between thumb and forefinger. Her flesh was only inches away from Laura’s for the first time in eight long months and there was a sudden current of feeling between them that leaped like a spark from Beebo’s hand to Laura’s breasts.
“I had to change. My clothes were filthy. I took a shower and borrowed your pajamas…I’ve been walking all night. All the way from midtown.”
“What the hell did you do that for? Don’t they still have taxis in this town?” She was cold. Her hand dropped away from Laura.
“I didn’t have any money. And I had to see you.”
“Why?”
Laura put her head down on the bed on her clasped hands and began to cry. “I love you,” she wept. And it was the first time since they had met that Beebo had heard her say it that way.
She got up on one elbow and leaned toward Laura. Her face was impassive but shrewd. “Not Tris?” she said.
“Not Tris.”
“Anybody else?”
“Nobody else.” Laura lifted her tearful face. “Oh, Beebo, I’ve done you so wrong, darling. I didn’t know how bad it was. Lili told me—”
“I know she did, the miserable bitch. Goddamn her soul. The only secret she can keep is her age.”
“Beebo, I’ll do anything for you—anything—if you’ll have me back. Oh, darling, it took me months to figure out what was wrong with me. I’ve been so confused. And lately I’ve been thinking of you all the time. I don’t think I ever stopped loving you, Beebo. I thought when you saw me here you’d beat the hell out of me. If you want to…do it…if it’ll help.” She looked at her out of large frightened eyes, half expecting Beebo to jump her.
But Beebo sat up then, grasping her ankles with her hands. “No, Laura, it’s too late for that. What good would that do?” She made a face, frowning. “There was a time when I would have. If you had come back last fall instead of now. I would have loved you enough then to hate you. But I’ve changed, Laura…It doesn’t seem to matter so much anymore.”
There was a shocked silence from Laura. “You mean,” she ventured finally, “you don’t love me anymore? Oh, Beebo! Oh, Beebo! No!” She covered her mouth with both bands, pressed so tight they turned white.
Beebo looked at her curiously. “I love you, Laura,” she said, but it was impersonal, detached, as if it were just another fact in her life like her job or her black hair. “I’ll always love you. But I’ll never love you again the way I did before you ran out on me last summer. That was too much. When it happened it was a question of either dying of it…or living with something else, changing myself. Becoming a different person. That’s what happened.”
Laura, in her desperation, found the courage to touch Beebo then. She reached out for her, and Beebo unexpectedly turned to help her. She dragged Laura up on the bed with her two strong arms, and Laura gave a long groan of need and fear and gratitude, all mixed up together. Beebo held her in both arms, her back pressed against the wall, watching Laura struggle to control her tears and trembling. She was kind, she was patient. And it scared Laura, who suddenly discovered that she missed the old stormy fury and passion. Beebe seemed odd to her, and it was true that she had changed.
“Laura,” she said. “I’ve been doing some thinking. I want to tell you something. Maybe you won’t want to come back to me so much anymore.”
“Let me tell you something first,” Laura begged. “If I don’t tell you, Beebo, I haven’t any right to touch you. I haven’t any right to be here. Maybe I don’t anyway. Darling, I—I’m married.” Beebo gasped a little, and Laura said quickly, “To Jack.”
Beebo simply gaped at her for a second and then she burst out laughing. “Good God! That’s what happened!” she exclaimed. “You and Jack. Oh, God!”
“It wasn’t exactly—ridiculous,” Laura whispered, hurt. “We loved each other.” But Beebo went on laughing.
“I’m sorry, baby, but it sounds so damn—goofy,” she said.
And when she called her baby, Laura felt a small glow of warmth and hope.
