Part 16

The hall to the elevator was bare and echoing as she walked down it. The elevator boy was silent, as if he too had been touched by the vast quiet of the night.

Laura walked out on the street. People hustled by, lights shone, cars honked. But it all seemed far away, not very real. Her senses registered only half of what they perceived.

Where shall I go? I’d better not try to go home for a while. Not till Burr leaves. Another hour, at least.

She looked at her watch: eight-thirty. She walked slowly, gazing ahead of her like a sleepwalker. I’ll go somewhere where I can sit down and read, she thought. She bought a magazine from a corner stand and sauntered on another couple of blocks until she saw the McAlton on the next corner.

She almost exclaimed aloud, as if the hotel had been sneaking up on her while she marked time on the sidewalk. She stopped in her tracks to stare at it and then looked self-consciously into a shop window. After a few minutes she moved on to the hotel.

If I just sit in a corner, as if I’m waiting for somebody, they can’t do anything. I’ll just read this thing till nine-thirty or so.

A tiny unworded excitement knotted itself around her heart and stuck there, prepared to stay for as long as Laura stayed in the lobby. She didn’t go over to the desk. She just sat down in an alcove on a leather covered sofa next to a fat middle-aged woman. She read until nine-thirty.

Then she got up and walked halfway across the lobby to the phone booths, entered one, and dialed the penthouse. Marcie answered.

“Is everything all right, Marcie? It’s Laura.”

“Yes.” She sounded tired, reticent.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. The policeman got here right after Burr did. Burr was yelling like a crazy man. The policeman took him out and told him to stop bothering me or they’d take him down and book him. He was furious. He cried. But he went. Damn it, he deserved it, after what he did to you.”

“Are you alone now?”

“Yes.”

Laura suddenly felt enormously relieved. “Thank God,” she said.

“Will you be right home?”

“Yes. Right away.” She hung up and left the booth, putting some change in her purse. She felt much better. Burr was mad as hell, that was certain. But for the moment he would have to watch himself; he would have to be careful. Marcie was disgusted with him. Obviously force was the wrong way to get her back. And suddenly Laura saw her father.

Merrill Landon was about twenty feet from her, his face turned profile to her, talking to some men.

Laura gave a low cry, almost inaudible, and her heart stopped. The knot around it gave a tremendous squeeze, like a big angry fist, and stopped it altogether for a moment. It started again with a tremendous thump. She darted toward the little alcove, her face averted, but found all the seats taken. She stood facing away from him for a minute, her heart kicking wildly, wondering frantically what to do.

I’ve got to be calm, I’ve got to be calm, she said under her breath, but each time she said it it seemed more hysterical. She gulped convulsively and barely heard someone say in her ear, “Excuse me, dear. Are you all right?”

“Yes. Yes, thanks,” she said, her voice staccato, afraid to identify her questioner.

She shut her eyes tight for a minute. If I just walk out quickly, he’ll never see me. The lobby is full, there are dozens of people in here. He’s not looking for me, he’s talking to some men, he won’t see me. I’ll just walk out.

She took a very careful glance behind her. He was facing her now, but not seeing her, gesturing, talking, engrossed in his words. He would never see her. For a second she permitted herself the luxury of looking hard at him; his big maleness, his strong face that could never be called handsome and yet compelled interest. That face that almost never smiled at Laura since she was five years old. That face she was condemned to love.

Laura turned away then and began to walk toward the door, keeping her face averted, hurrying, her heart pounding as if she were running up a steep hill. Near the door she slowed down a little. I’ll never see him again, she told herself fiercely. Just one more glance. It will have to last me my life. She turned around slowly, carefully, just five feet from the door and safety.

He was looking at her. Looking straight at her, as if he had been following her through the crowd with his eyes, not quite sure but wondering. For a split second Laura didn’t believe it; thought he didn’t really see her and was just looking that way. But then he cried, “Laura!” in his big rough voice, and her eyes went huge with fear and she gasped and turned and ran as if the devil were after her. She ran headlong, panicky, her heart huge and desperate, struggling to get out of her throat. She ran with all her strength and with an unreasoning terror whipping her heels, all the way to the subway. She never once looked back. People turned to stare, they jumped out of the way and she collided with a dozen of them. She almost fell down the subway steps and ran and dodged and shoved her way into the ladies’ rest room.

There, she fell on the floor, whimpering, crying despairingly, unable to lift herself off the filth of the black floor and completely unaware of anything but the hysterical fear that gripped her. After a while she felt hands on her shoulders and she gave a wild scream and sat up. A terrified Negress was bending over her, saying, “There now, there now.” Her eyes were all whites.

Laura panted, speechless, gasping for breath. She leaned exhausted against the door of a booth until her wind came back to her and then she tried to get up. The Negro woman helped her, handling her like heirloom china, watching her every second for fear she would take off on another fit.

Laura half staggered to the wash basin and turned the water on. She looked at her haggard face in the mirror and an attack of real crying, soothing relief with real tears, overwhelmed her. “Father, Father, Father,” she cried softly, her face in her hands.

“Can I help you, Miss?” the colored woman asked. She was scared by Laura’s behavior, but fascinated.

Laura shook her head.

After a moment’s pause the woman said, “You came in here like a bat out of hell. You was out of your mind, honey, that’s for sure. Was some sonofabitch chasin’ you?”

Laura put her hands down to look at the woman in the cracked mirror over the basin. She nodded.

“Well, I never seen a girl so scared in my life. Never.” She shook her head positively. “You better get yourself some help, honey. Is he still out there?”

At this Laura went so white that she frightened the woman again, who said, “There now, there now. Didn’t mean to start nothin’. Don’t go off like that again.”

Laura turned around to look at her. And in her awful unhappiness she went to her and put her arms around her, to the bottomless astonishment of the woman, and wept on her shoulder. “I never had a mother,” Laura sobbed. “I never had a mother.” And her heart was broken.

The woman held her like a child and said, “There now, there now. Everybody’s got a mother, even you.”

“Nobody knows me. I don’t even know myself. I don’t know what I’m doing here,” she said brokenly. “I’m a stranger in this world.”

“Well, now,” said the woman, “Everybody’s a stranger when you look at it that way. But everybody got a chance to find a little love. That’s the most important thing. When you got a little love, the rest don’t seem so strange or sad no more. There now, honey, there now.”

Laura suddenly shied away from her. “Don’t call me honey!” she said, her face twisted with misery.

The Negro woman let her go, shaking her head. “You pretty sick, girl,” she said. “You need a doctor, and that’s the truth.”

Laura turned and walked out of the rest room on shaking legs. Outside she looked warily up and down the waiting platform. Only a handful of people were there. A train had gone through just after she entered the rest room and had taken most of the crowd with it. She waited in silence for the next train.

The woman came out of the rest room after Laura. She stood some distance from her, staring at her with a mixture of distrust and pity, until the train arrived and the crowd separated them.

Laura came home too exhausted to talk about it, to be embarrassed with Marcie about the fight with Burr. She was so full of her experience, so absorbed in her father, that nobody else seemed real. She almost fell into her bed, with hardly a word to Marcie, and lay there wrapped up in herself, crying quietly for a long time.

Things were no better in the morning. Somehow the enormity of Burr’s accusation hung between them like a curtain. They could look at each other only furtively; they couldn’t speak. They were embarrassed, a little afraid of each other, and it made them overly polite. All they said was, “Excuse me,” “pass the cream, please,” “I’m sorry.” Laura had the additional burden of her terrible flight from her father to keep her both silent and preoccupied.

She was unable to figure it out. She knew she didn’t want to talk to him, to show him any forgiveness at all, to satisfy his curiosity about her—if he had any. She only wanted a glimpse of him; she wanted to reassure herself that he was still in New York, even though she knew he was. And she knew he might see her if she hung around his hotel. And she was ashamed that he should see her and know how important he was to her, even after his cruel denial of her. All these things were plain to Laura and yet when she looked back on the night before it seemed incredible. Especially her own terror.

They parted for work without more than a perfunctory goodby. Laura knew it was going to be a rough day. She had had almost no sleep. And for the first time since she took the job she didn’t even give a damn what happened. She was too engrossed in herself and the urgent unnameable feelings that plagued her. Not even the head start she had given herself the night before encouraged her. It only reminded her of Burr and the ugly quarrel they had had. The thought of her father, which usually spurred her on, even on the darkest days, now filled her with a shaky apprehension and so engaged her mind that it was hard for her to think about anything else.

Bombshells fell around her all day. Marcie called in tears at ten to say she couldn’t stand it any longer and wouldn’t Laura forgive her. And Laura was forced to take time out, while Dr. Hagstrom was in the room, to reassure her. Marcie wouldn’t be put off; there was no help for it.

Sarah reminded her that they were all going out for dinner that night. They had arranged to meet Jack and Carl Jensen at a small bar a couple of blocks away for cocktails and to go on from there. It wasn’t until Sarah mentioned it that Laura even remembered it, and then she was dismayed.

Just before lunch, Jack called.

“Laura,” he said firmly, “what the hell are you trying to do to me?”

“Nothing. What’s the matter, Jack, can’t you make it tonight?”

“Tonight be damned. I’m liable to get skinned alive. Right now.”

“Did something go wrong with Terry?” Laura was startled into attention.

He paused a minute before answering, taken aback to hear his lover mentioned right out on the phone. “No,” he said. “I spoil him rotten, but that’s nothing new. Guess again.”

“Well, Jack, I don’t have time for guessing games, we’re—”

“I know, you’re behind. Burr told me you stayed late last night to catch up.”

“Burr told you? Oh!” Suddenly she remembered. “What’s the matter with me?”

“You tell me. I’d like to know. Burr was real sweet. He told me I was a lousy bastard and no friend of his, and I could take my psychoanalysis and cram it. Oh, he told me some very interesting things. He told me you’re queer and you’re perverting Marcie, and you two are lovers, and Marcie sicked the cops on him last night, and God knows what else. Would you care to explain to me what the hell is going on? Just so I won’t put my foot in my mouth? You know how it is.” There was the forgiveness in his bitter humor and it made her miserable.

“Jack, I’m so terribly sorry,” she said. “I blurted out something about the way you felt about Burr and Marcie. I was trying to calm him down. I should have known better. He was out of his mind.”

“Since when are you and Marcie lovers?”

“We’re not! I would have told you, you know that.” She glanced surreptitiously across the office at Sarah, but Sarah had her eyes on her work. “Burr got it into his head we were because Marcie talked about me so much. Because she stayed home and wouldn’t go out with him. When he accused her, it made her so mad she just told him, ‘Okay, believe it.’ And he did. I thought he was going to kill me last night.”

At this Sarah did look up, but Laura didn’t notice.

“Well, that’s a hell of a story,” Jack said.

“It’s the truth, Jack! I swear.”

“Never mind the truth. You’ve got me in a lovely mess. Burr thinks I promoted the whole affair.”

“My God! Jack, what’ll we do?”

“What can we do? Have you done anything with Marcie you wouldn’t want to write home about?”

“Nothing! I wish to God now I had. As long as he’s going to believe it anyway.”

“Oh, no! Christ! Whatever you do, Laura, don’t touch Marcie. Not till Burr straightens out. Never, if you have any sense.”

Laura wouldn’t answer him. She felt closer to winning Marcie, in spite of their awkwardness with each other this morning, than she ever had. She wouldn’t make any promises to Jack.

“You hear me, Mother?”

“Yes.”

He apparently took that for a promise. “And one more thing.”

“I can’t take any more right now.”

“This won’t hurt. What have you done to Beebo?”

“Done to her? Nothing. Ask her what she’s done to me,” she said, and her voice was hard. Sarah watched her with considerable interest now.

“Keep your voice down, Mother,” Jack said. “Beebo’s goofy for you. And when she gets a girl on her mind, that girl had better watch out. She’s a stubborn bitch.”

“So am I,” Laura snapped.

“She’s in love with you, Laura. Don’t cross her.”

“I’d walk all over her if I could. She treats me like a slave.”

“Christ, keep your voice down,” Jack said, and Laura was surprised at her own lack of caution. Usually she was meticulously careful. Today, nothing seemed to matter. “She’s in love with you,” Jack said. “That explains a lot of things.”

“It doesn’t excuse them. Besides, she isn’t. How do you know she is?”

“She said so.”

“When?”

“Last night.”

Laura couldn’t help being flattered. The pleasure in her was warm and sudden and overwhelmed her bad conscience briefly. “I’m not going to see her again,” she told Jack. This time she almost whispered, which intrigued Sarah still more.

Jack laughed. “Have it your way,” he said. “Only don’t drag me into your messes any more, Mother. I’ve got enough of my own.”

“Is everything all right between—I mean—” She looked over at Sarah for the first time and surprised Sarah staring at her. Sarah went quickly back to work and Laura felt suddenly nervous. “Jack, I’d better hang up. We’ll talk tonight.”

“Okay. See you at five-thirty.”

Laura spent the rest of the day reassuring herself, I’ll never go back to that hotel. He’ll be gone tomorrow. Or Sunday at the latest. The thought gave her considerable relief.

Chapter Thirteen

Carl Jensen was a clean cut young man, very fair with freckled skin. He engaged Sarah in conversation right away; it was a part of what he considered good technique to get a girl talking, and he wasted no time.

Jack and Laura had dinner with them, but Jack was obviously chafing to get away. They hadn’t even finished their after-dinner coffee before he was whispering in Laura’s ear, “Let’s get the hell out of here.” Laura, who was almost wordless through dinner, agreed.

Jack did the dirty work. He told them a joke, he made them laugh, and then he said he had a meeting the next day up in Albany. Very unexpected. Would they mind, etc.

They were a little startled, Jensen especially, for he had expected Jack and Laura to stick with him and lend moral support through the evening—but they replied, almost together, “No, go ahead. We don’t mind.”

As soon as they were in the street Jack sighed, “God. I couldn’t have stood another minute of it. Straight people are so depressing.”

Laura smiled at him and noticed for the first time that evening how tired and worried he looked. She was so wound up in Laura Landon that nobody’s troubles counted for her but her own. But now she saw Jack’s anxiety and she was afraid she had caused it. She started to apologize. “Jack, I want you to know ...” she began.

“Skip it.”

“Please.”

“I said skip it.” And his voice was harsh enough to hurt her.

They walked along in silence for a minute and finally Laura said, “Jack, I have to talk. I feel awful about it. I saw my father last night. He saw me, too. I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never been so terrified in my life, as if he were the devil and I had to get away from him. I ran all the way to the subway. I think I was hysterical.”

He looked at her and then he sighed. “Everybody’s hysterical. Even me.”

“There was an old colored lady there. In the rest room. She said something I didn’t understand then, but I’ve been thinking about it. She said everybody is a stranger in this world until he finds a little love. That’s the most important thing.”

“Wise lady,” Jack said.

They walked without talking for half a block. “How’s Terry?” Laura asked.

“He needs a spanking. I act like a lovesick cow with him. I can’t help it. I know I’m doing it, and I can’t help it. He laughs at me.” Jack looked at the pavement as he walked, his hands shoved into his pockets. “Mother,” he said slowly. “Do you want to get back in my good graces?”

“I do,” she said gently. “Yes. I do.”

“Well,” he said, and stopped walking. She stopped beside him and saw that he was embarrassed. “This is a rotten thing to do. But I’d do it for you, bear that firmly in mind.” He poked her chest between her breasts, as if he were making a point with a fellow business man. It was intended to lighten the atmosphere a little, but the atmosphere was too heavy already.

“I’ll help you, Jack, you know I will. Any way I can. You’ve been so wonderful to me. I don’t know what I would have done.”

“Okay, okay.” He stopped her abruptly and then seemed unable to speak himself for a minute. Finally he said, quickly, “I’m losing him, Laura.”

“Oh, Jack!” She was suddenly full of sympathy, but he cut her off again.

“What the hell,” he said cynically. “I expected it. I predicted it. And I know why.”

“Why?”

“Mother, you have a short memory.” He smiled wryly. “My little friend likes nice things. Nice things cost money. And besides,” he looked at his shoes, scraping one toe along a crack in the pavement, “I can’t handle him. I should shove his teeth down his throat. I should make him behave. And I can’t. I feel more like falling on my knees and worshipping him. He has no respect for me.” He spoke so softly that Laura had to strain to hear him.