“Beth!”
“Like a damn silly little child—”
“Beth—”
“You make it impossible for me to handle this any other way, Laura. I thought we could handle the thing like adults, but apparently we aren’t quite capable of that.”
“But Beth, didn’t you understand what I meant—what I—”
“Yes, I understand. I understand that you’re at least aware that I’m not the only one who’s made mistakes. I suppose I’m to be grateful for it.” The ache inside her was so awful that she went to extremes for the littlest relief; she hardly knew what she said, or cared. “What do you want me to do, Laura? Never speak to Emmy again? Never speak to Charlie? Lock myself in a damn garret with you somewhere and rot? Is that what you want?”
Laura looked at her, shaking her head, frightened.
“Well, there’s a world around us, Laura,” Beth went on as if Laura had said no, “and we’re damn near grown up, however young we may act, and we’ve damn well got to go out and live in it. And crying over each other and clinging to each other and denying the rest of the world exists is sure as hell not the way to do it. That’s a child’s way, Laura. And if you haven’t grown up enough by now to see it, then—then, damn it, I don’t know. I can’t help. I can only mess it up for you. If you’re still a child, then go home. Go on back home to your mother and father where you’ll be happy. Let them worry about you, let them take care of you. I can’t; everything I do is wrong. Well, go back to your happy home and let your parents figure it out.”
Laura put her head down on her arms, resting on the back of the desk chair, and never said a word. Beth wanted to see her temper, not her surrender. She wanted a fight and she persecuted Laura still further. She walked to Laura’s chair and said, “The world is half men, Laura. The world is one-half men. Does that make sense? Well, does it?”
“Yes.”
“And I like men, Laura. Now, that’s honest. And I like Charlie. That’s honest too. Does it hurt enough for you? Honesty? Does it?”
“Yes.”
“I like Charlie and I’m going to see Charlie, when I feel like it. Is that honest enough for you?”
“Yes.”
Beth went to the closet and got her coat. “You can’t love a girl all your life, Laura. You can’t be in love with a girl all your life. Sooner or later you have to grow up.” She pulled the coat on and suddenly she couldn’t look at Laura for knowing how horribly she had hurt her. It began to overwhelm Beth and she had to get out before it strangled her.
“Tell Mary Lou I had to go out, will you?” she said brusquely.
Laura lifted her head. “Where are you going?” she said. Her delicate face was discolored by the eruption of pain and on her underarms, where Beth couldn’t see, her nails raised red welts, trying to call attention from the great pain with a lesser. “Where are you going, Beth?” she whispered.
“Out,” said Beth.
“When will you be back?”
“Tonight. Closing.” She paused at the door and looked at Laura. And she knew she’d never forget what she saw. Then she went out.
Downstairs in the hall she phoned Charlie. “This is Beth,” she said. “Where’s your final?”
“Math building.”
“When will you be out?”
“About four, maybe sooner.”
“I’ll be at Maxie’s.”
“Honey, are you all right?”
“Yes. I’m all right.”
“You sure?” He felt the tension and was doubtful.
“Yes. Charlie, I have to go.”
“Okay, Maxie’s.” He hung up worried.
Beth went out and walked. She walked over to the campus, and across it to Campus Town, and down the block to Maxie’s, half wild with pain and doubt and anger.
Girls didn’t usually go into Maxie’s alone, but Beth walked in without looking to right or left, stopped at the bar to get some beer—they didn’t serve anything stronger—and found a dark booth in a back corner. There was only a small crowd and no one paid her much attention. She looked too grim for company.
She sat back there alone until almost four o’clock, with many trips to the bar for more beer. When Charlie found her she was slumped in the booth with her head back and her eyes closed. He slid in beside her and shook her gently.
“Beth…darling,” he said.
She opened her eyes and looked at him as if she had never seen him before. And then she smiled.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said. He pulled her to her feet and helped her into her coat. She swayed a little, saying nothing and letting him steady her and lead her out into the cold air. He took her to his car and guided her in. “How long have you been there?” he said.
She put her head back on the seat. “Since two.” She smiled a little at the ceiling of the car.
“Did you have any lunch?”
“Um-hm.”
“What time?”
“Noon.”
He started the car. “You need some black coffee, darling.”
“No, Charlie.” She turned her head on the seat and reached for the back of his neck. She stroked it with her long fingers and said, “No, Charlie. Come get drunk with me.”
He looked at her with a curious smile. “What’s the matter, Beth?”
“1 won’t tell you unless you get drunk with me.”
“I don’t want to get drunk.”
“Yes you do, Charlie. Charlie, please, darling…yes, you do.”
“What’s got into you!”
She smiled. “Beer,” she said. “I’m sick of beer. Can’t we go somewhere and drink Martinis?”
Charlie laughed. “Oh, you’re a funny girl.” He caressed her hair with his hand.
“I know. You’ll never find another like me, Charlie. Humor me, get drunk with me.” She tickled his ears. “Please….”
He turned away, smiling a little out the windshield. “If I get you a Martini, will you tell me what the hell’s the matter?”
“Um-hm.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
He paused a moment, and then he drove her downtown. There was a hotel two blocks from the
