Beth smiled ironically at her.
“I think she realizes now that you weren’t perfect, if only because you were human. She’s not in love with you anymore, but she still idealizes you to some extent. That’s the way I see it, at least.”
“Is she still so beautiful?” Beth asked softly.
“Yes.” Beebo was watching her carefully, deeply interested in this pretty young woman who had caused her such exasperation and heartache years before. “Some people don’t think she is beautiful, you know.”
“Some people are blind. She’s lovely—I mean, unless she’s changed?”
“No, not so much. Not to look at. But in other ways she’s changed a lot. Remember, when you knew her before, you were the sophisticated one. You were the one with experience and you taught Laura. Now it’s the other way around. Laura’s the woman of the world and you’re the provincial housewife. Do you want to start all over with her on that basis? Can you?”
It was an acute observation. Beth had never thought of her relationship with Laura. “Well, I—I’m not that provincial,” she said in stammering defense of herself. “I’ve been married, I have a couple of children. That counts for some experience, doesn’t it?”
“Laura’s married too. Laura has a daughter six years old. And why the hell did you lie to me about having children?”
Beth flushed crimson, overcome by the revelation of Laura’s maternity as much as her own lie. After a moment’s confusion she said, “Beebo, I—forgive me. I didn’t know you, I didn’t know whether to trust you. I—” and she had to cry. It was the first time since she had met Beebo that evening that her feelings unwound enough for her to let the tears come. The storm was brief and hard but it cleared the air. “I love them terribly, but I can’t live with them,” she confessed brokenly when she could talk. “I left them with Charlie, my husband.”
“You ran away?” Beebo frowned at her.
“Sort of. He knew I was going; I didn’t try to hide it. But he doesn’t know where I am now. He thinks I’m with my aunt and uncle in Chicago.”
“And where do they think you are?”
“God knows. I blew up at my uncle and when I left, I sneaked off like a thief in the night.” Beebo tossed her a white linen handkerchief and Beth blew her nose gratefully.
“That’s too bad, honey,” Beebo said gently. “You’re in a hell of a situation. Me, I told off all my relatives twenty-five years ago, and left before I had any obligations. They all predicted I’d go straight to hell. But when I look back on it, I’m not sorry, strange to say. Some of it’s been hell, all right. But some of it’s been…wonderful. Just wonderful. Makes the rest of it worth the pain. Like the first year with Laura.”
Beth gazed up at her and caught a faraway smile on her face. “You must be lonely, Beebo,” she said. “Living alone like this. Or aren’t you alone?”
“I live alone,” Beebo said. “But I have a lot of company. A lot of drinking buddies.”
“That still makes you pretty lonely, doesn’t it?” Beth knew that loneliness, and she sympathized eagerly.
“Yes, honey, it does. I had a couple of dogs, once. Dachshunds. They helped for a while. But they died.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Actually, they were—killed.”
“How awful.” And Beth sensed a whole story, a whole miniature tragedy behind the words. But she dared not press Beebo for it.
“What’s Laura’s little girl’s name?” Beth asked.
Beebo came back from her reverie and smiled at her, pouring herself another inch of whiskey from the bottle by her feet. “Elizabeth,” she said. “What else?”
“For me?” Beth said.
Beebo nodded. “They call her Betsy, though. Jack put his foot down on Beth.”
And oddly it struck them both funny and they laughed together, and Beth found herself reaching for Beebo’s hand. Just to grasp, just to hold for an instant in gratitude. “God, I’m so glad I found you,” she said. “I was so depressed. It all seemed so hopeless.”
“I can imagine,” Beebo said with a humorous edge in her voice, “if Nina Spicer was showing you around town.”
“Is she like that with everybody?”
“She tries to be. Too bad. She’s a shrewd girl and she’s made quite a success of this writing bit. But she has to analyze everybody. She learns enough about human nature to use people but not enough to help them. It’s not in her nature to give a damn what happens to them after they cease to amuse her. She just likes to pull the strings and see them hop. That’s not saying she can’t teach you a few things, Beth. But she can crack your ego at the same time and it’s not worth the aches and pains involved.”
“Are most gay people like that?” Beth asked.
“No. But a lot of them are. Too many. That’s the most valuable lesson Nina can teach you, honey. It doesn’t last long in the gay world and when it’s over it keeps on hurting for a long time. You’re on your own. You watch out for yourself. You haven’t any of the safeguards or the consolations or the help that straight people have. There’s nobody you can run crying to when you’re the loser.”
“Nina taught me something else. I’m gay,” Beth said.
“Oh, hell,” Beebo said and laughed good-naturedly. “You learn that yourself, nobody teaches you.”
“She said if I cut off my hair and went to live in the Village, I’d be a butch.”
“Good God, you’re no butch!” Beebo exclaimed. “She’s filling you full of bull just to amuse herself.”
“I thought so,” Beth sighed. “But I’m so damned ignorant. I’m not sure of anything. I thought maybe Laura could help me understand myself. Show me what I am.”
“Nobody’s going to draw you any diagrams, sweetheart,” Beebo said.
“I’ve been wondering about it for all these years. Wondering if I did the right
