“‘Morning, my dear,” said the doctor with a sort of modified bow as he sailed past.
She returned the greeting and Marcie said, “I’ll get you in dutch. You’d better hang up. Will you be home tonight?”
“Yes. I’ll be home.”
“Good girl. See you at six.”
Laura hung up bewildered. She felt good and she felt lousy. Her head was throbbing but her heart was high. She wanted to talk to Jack. She didn’t care who caught her. She picked up the phone and dialed his office.
“I just talked to Marcie,” she said, unable to keep the pleasure out of her voice.
He sensed her excitement. “Did she propose?” he said, wryly amused.
“No, you idiot!” Laura burst out laughing. “She said I was beautiful.” Unconsciously she exaggerated.
“Jesus, she has a screw loose,” he said.
“She said you were talking about me before I got home. Thanks, Jack.”
“Listen, Mother,” he said. “Let’s get this straight. I want her to think we’re nuts for each other. I also think you’re a pretty girl, and I said so. But I didn’t say it to get Marcie all steamed up.”
“Well, I don’t care why you did it. She is steamed up.”
“You’re making a mountain out of a molehill.”
“Oh, Jack, be nice to me! I’m in love, for God’s sake.”
“Okay, you’re in love. I believe you. Worse things have happened. I’ll have to work a drastic cure on you.”
She laughed at him. “Too late,” she said.
“You’re not going to get stabbed like I was, Laura.”
She recalled the defenseless mushroom with a little shiver of distaste. “Don’t be morbid,” she said.
“I’m a realist.”
“You’re blind. She’s falling for me. I can tell. She must be, or she wouldn’t—” Here Sarah walked in. “Jack, I’ll call you back,” she said.
“I dare you to. Call me back this afternoon, when you’re hung over to your knees, and tell me how much you’re in love.”
“I’m telling you now!”
“You talk like a fish. Go on, type your damn reports. Send some poor bastard up for TB. Or enlarged heart. At least it’ll be a normal disease.”
She hung up with a smack. He’s a morbid miserable old man, she thought. I’m not that cynical yet.
“Was that your friend?” Sarah said. “Jack?”
“Yes.” She put paper and carbons into her machine.
“He’s giving you the rush, hm?”
“I guess so.”
“That’s one of us, anyway.”
Laura looked at her, and caught an expression of frustration on her face that made Laura’s problems seem smaller. Sarah was plain. She was unremarkable. But so nice. It was depressing. Laura put a hand on her arm. It would cheer her up if she could cheer someone else. “Maybe Jack could fix you up with a friend of his,” she said. “We could make it a foursome.”
Sarah shook her head. “They all want to know ‘Is she pretty?’ Never mind if she’s nice or wants a man so badly she could… excuse me, Laura, I sound like an old maid already. I haven’t given up yet.”
Laura studied her on the way down in the elevator. She ached to say the things she thought, but she didn’t know Sarah well enough. They were walled up in themselves. Poor plain Sarah, she thought. I’m not beautiful either. But I’ve been loved. I know love and I can tell you, you don’t have to be a beauty to feel passion. Sometimes it helps if you’re not. I wonder if you know that already.
“I’ll talk to Jack,” she said as they walked out.
“That’d be awfully nice, Laura.” She laughed diffidently. “At twenty-eight you begin to feel kind of frantic,” she said.
Outside she left Sarah and walked toward the subway station. All the way she noticed the women, as she never had before. She was at a loss to explain it. Before, she had always hurried, on her way somewhere, with a deadline to beat, somebody to meet, things on her mind. Now—perhaps it was the fatigue that made her slow—she sauntered, looking at the women.
Looking at their faces: sweet, fine-featured, delicate, some of them; others coarse, sensual, heavily female. They all appealed to her, with their soft skirts, their clicking heels, their floating hair. It caught in her throat, this aberration of hers, in a way it never had until that moment. It suffused her. She surrendered quietly to her feelings, walking slowly, looking without staring but with a warm pleasure that made her want to smile. She had trouble controlling her mouth.
God, I love them, she thought to herself, vaguely surprised. I just love them. I love them all. I know I’m nuts, but I love them. She stopped by a jewelry window where an exquisite girl was admiring a group of rings. She was all in gray, as fine and soft as twilight. Gray silk graced her slim legs, gray suede pumps with the highest heels were on her feet. A gray suit, impeccably tailored, terribly expensive—gray gloves—a tiny gray hat. Laura had never liked gray much before, but suddenly it was ideal on this cool dainty little creature, with her small nose and moist pink lips. She was extremely pretty. She looked up to find Laura gazing at her, collected herself with pretty confusion, and went off, pulling a recalcitrant gray poodle after her. Laura had not even noticed it till it moved. She looked after the girl for a minute with a foolish smile.
When she finally reached the subway she collapsed on a seat, exhausted. She wanted to get home and in bed so badly that she could hardly wait.
She was late getting home but even so, Marcie had not arrived. She wanted very much to see her, but there was no help for it. She would have to wait. She fell on her bed, meaning to rest for a minute before she took her bath. But so
