She tried to calm herself, to tame the whirlwind in her stomach. She reached the room and opened the closet door to get her toothbrush and suddenly the funny feeling burst again inside her and she buried her face in the clothes and thought wildly, Beth, help me! Hold me, help me, Beth darling Beth I need you. Oh, I need—
The room door smacked against the closet door and Emmy said, “Who dat? Laur?”
A pang of caution sharply neutralized the feeling. Laura was on guard. She straightened mechanically and collected her toothpaste and said, “Yes.”
Emily yawned. “We’re going over to the Modern Design show in the art building,” she said.
“You and Bud?” said Laura politely, as if it mattered. It cost her a terrible effort to appear calm.
“Yes, and Beth and Uncle John.”
And suddenly it did matter.
“Should be a good show. Isn’t Beth’s uncle funny? Honestly, we nearly died laughing at him at dinner.”
“Yes, he is funny. I thought he was going home early this afternoon.”
“Well, he was, but we talked him into coming along to this show. Besides, he’s the only date Beth ever has, and she needs to get out once in a while.”
They heard Beth coming down the hall. She was talking to Mary Lou and she came into the room looking back over her shoulder and laughing at something. The strange feeling welled irresistibly in Laura at the sight of her back.
“We were just talking about you, roomie,” said Emily, foraging through a muddled drawer for her gloves. Laura half envied her ability to be casual with Beth, and at the same time scorned her for not understanding Beth better.
Beth turned around and faced her roommates, and Laura couldn’t stop looking at her. “Oh, you were?” she said. “Good things, of course.” She smiled at them.
“We think you ought to go out more often,” said Emily matter-of-factly, pulling out one glove triumphantly and tossing it on top of her dresser.
“You do, hm? With whom?” Beth gave Laura a quizzical smile.
Laura gave Emmy a brief venomous glance for having said, “We.”
“Oh, anybody,” said Emmy, burrowing in her drawer again for the other glove.
“Sure,” said Beth. “Like, maybe, Santa Claus?”
Emily laughed. “Oh, Beth, you’re hopeless. We’ll have to make it our special project to marry you off this year, won’t we, Laur?”
Laura glared at her, but Beth said, “And ruin a fine record? No thanks, Em. I’m stuck with Uncle John.” She walked over to the closet and reached past Laura for her coat. “Hurry up, can’t keep them waiting,” she said to Emily.
“I’m coming. Can’t find that other glove, darn it. I know it’s here somewhere. I put it in here with the other one just two days ago. Can’t have just walked away. Now where is it?”
While she talked Beth pulled her coat slowly off the hanger in the closet, all the while looking down at Laura, who stared hard at the floor until the wild feeling beat inside and lifted her eyes almost without her willing it. Beth took her hand suddenly and pressed it and Emily rambled on about her glove. Neither Beth nor Laura heard her for an instant. And then, when the instant grew a second too long, Beth drew her coat between them and turned and slipped into it.
“What are you going to do this afternoon, Laur?” she said.
“Found it!” said Emmy, and gave them a disgusted smile. “Underwear drawer.”
“Nothing,” said Laura. “Study, I guess.”
“Why don’t you come along with us?”
“Oh, no thanks, I couldn’t. I—I have too much to do.” She couldn’t bear the thought of being so near to Beth all that time and unable to touch her.
Beth smiled at her. “I understand you’re going to see Charlie again,” she said. “You didn’t tell me.”
Laura turned hot with confusion. “Oh—oh, didn’t I? Yes, for the dance.”
“Hey, he’s cute, Laur,” said Emmy, grabbing her coat, and hurrying out the door.
Laura and Beth looked intently at each other, Laura with an uneasy smile on her face, and then Beth followed Emmy out.
Left by herself, the rest of the afternoon was a lonely one for Laura. Somewhere in the back of her mind was the sickening doubt that it was monumentally wrong to love another girl. And yet she did, and how much!
She thought of the kiss she stole in the night and her breath left her, first with delight and then with shame. And then she crept back to the thought and it was once again pure pleasure. She put her hand against her lips as if to preserve the kiss. Or prevent it? And then she thought of the way Beth had kissed her in the morning, so suddenly, so quickly, and she thought she couldn’t have done anything so very wicked after all.
All afternoon, through her thoughts, the lines of print in her textbook, the wandering reveries in her head, slipped in the word “homosexual.” At first she seemed to glimpse it from very far away and it made her feel sick and frightened, but as the day waned it came closer. And finally she made herself look hard at it until she threw herself out on the couch and sobbed in an agony of self-accusation. She cried until exhaustion stopped her.
She sat up finally and looked at her mental picture of the Landons. They were normal. And then she looked down at herself, and nothing seemed wrong. She had breasts and full hips like other girls. She wore lipstick and curled her hair. Her brow, the crook in her arms, the fit of her legs—everything was feminine. She held her fists to her cheeks and stared out the window at the gathering night and begged God
