“I’m sorry, Emmy,” said Laura, and she was—sorry and scared. “I didn’t mean to—say anything. I’m awfully sorry.
“Well…that’s all right, Laura.” Emily frowned curiously at her.
Laura undressed in a state of smoldering resentment, angry with Emily, furious with herself, and irritated with Beth for being a day late. Never mind what the flying conditions were; she should have been there.
Beth came the next morning. It was so good to look at her, to see the color of her and feel the substance, that Laura temporarily forgot her troubles and forgave her. Beth gave her a warm hug and said, “Miss me?” and laughed at Laura’s bright eyes before she could answer. Laura was admiring her tan; she had turned a lovely gold-brown from the Florida sun and in her dark face her violet eyes looked almost luminous.
It took Emily only until that evening to wreak havoc. She didn’t mean to; she never meant to. She thought there must be some sort of joke between Beth and Laura and she wanted to tease.
The three of them were settled quietly about the room when Emmy snapped her book shut and said, “Hey, Beth, what’s this big secret between you and Laura?” She smiled at her.
Beth looked up suddenly with a long silent gasp of alarm. Emily didn’t see Laura start in her chair. She was looking at Beth. Beth turned to Laura for an explanation but Laura was too frightened to say a word.
“What secret?” said Beth.
“Laura said you had a secret.”
“She did?” Beth looked back at Laura with troubled eyes.
“Emily, I did not!” said Laura angrily, finding her tongue suddenly in this crisis. For the second time she had lost her temper at Emily. “I didn’t say anything of the kind!” She had to shout at Emmy; she was afraid to look at Beth.
“Well, gee, Laur, don’t get mad,” said Emmy. “I’m not trying to start anything. What the heck is this, anyway?” She looked at Beth. “She said she had something to tell you, that’s all. She was so let down when you weren’t here last night that I asked her what was the matter and she wouldn’t tell me. She just said she had something to tell you. Gee, I didn’t mean to start anything. I thought it was a joke.”
Beth pulled herself together fast. She had to in the face of Emily’s sudden suspicion. “You didn’t start anything, Emmy,” she said calmly. “You don’t mind if I tell her, do you, Laur?”
Laura, who would have followed her naked into hell, shook her head in bewilderment.
“It was just a family thing, Em. Laura wanted to transfer out of journalism school. It all depended on what her father said. Sort of a difficult situation. Her parents didn’t agree. I guess Mr. Landon finally decided against it. Right, Laur?”
“Yes.” She stared in grateful surprise at Beth, with a sort of perverse pleasure in seeing her father rescue his daughter’s Lesbian love affair. It was as good a thing as ever he did for her.
“One of those family things,” Beth said. “Not so much a secret, Emmy, as just—sort of—awkward.”
Emily was suddenly contrite. She never disbelieved Beth; she never had reason to. “Oh, Laur, I’m sorry!” she said. She looked anxiously at her, wanting to restore a sunny atmosphere.
Laura promptly absolved her, glad to have it over, to have got out of it so well. Emily took the thing at nearly face value, thanks to Beth. Laura was shaken hard and fast into the realization of the pressing need for tact and caution and highly refined hypocrisy.
Mitch called Beth, and ran headlong into the bruising fact that Beth didn’t want to go out with him again. She gave him a charm ing runaround; he couldn’t even get mad at her. But she said no, and it rankled in Mitch.
Charlie got out of the way and let him call first. It was the only way to keep peace. Besides, they were friends, they had an agreement, they even had a lease to bind them. But he intended to call and he said so, and there wasn’t much Mitch could do about it, being Mitch. He didn’t think he was in love with Beth any more, but he thought he might have been if he had had the chance.
Charlie came in and found him sitting by the phone. Mitch waved at it. “She’s busy all week,” he said with a sort of comic sarcasm. “Try for Friday night. She hesitated a little over that one.”
“Mitch—” Charlie felt awkward.
“Go on, go on. We had an agreement.”
He called. Beth was rarely called on a house phone. Anyone with anything to say to her knew her private number.
“Hello?” she said.
“Hello, Beth, this is Charlie.” He didn’t believe in guessing games.
“Well, Charlie!” she exclaimed, strangely startled.
“I have a problem. I thought maybe you could help me out.”
It was somehow possible to tell that he was smiling.
“Well, I don’t know.” She grinned back at him. “What is it?”
“Classics. An elective. Don’t know how I got hooked. Anyway, I’m in trouble. I mean, I may very well flunk out.”
Beth laughed at him. “Oh, that’s a shame!” she said.
He ignored her. “Laura says you know something about the classics.”
“Oh, she did?”
“Thought you might be willing to brief me. I wouldn’t take much of your time. You’re up at the Union every day, aren’t you?”
“Yes—”
“I know you’re busy—”
“Oh, I am—”
“But you must have a few free minutes.”
“Well, sometimes, but—”
“Any time would do.”
She realized that every answer she gave him was affirmative. “Charlie, I just don’t know. I never know what to expect up there. My time isn’t my own.”
“Aren’t you the president of the Student Union?”
“Yes, but—” Another affirmative.
“Well, hell, honey, make time. Just half an hour would do it. How about the Pine Lounge this afternoon? Say about three-thirty?”
“Charlie, I can’t.” She thought of Laura.
