Strange Are the Ways of Love

11

She didn’t move in with Laura at the Minetta Street apartment. Laura had asked her to and she had almost accepted, thinking how good it would be to be with Laura all the time, to live with her and share everything between the two of them. But in the end she had decided against it.

The main reason, of course, was that her rent was paid and there was no way to get it back. Ruthie had paid three months’ rent to the landlord and she had paid the same to Ruthie, and the money was gone whether she lived there or not. True, it would cost the same amount either way, but she also wanted the opportunity to have some time to herself and a certain amount of privacy. Laura’s apartment was nicer than hers, but it was also good to have a place of her own, an apartment that was simply hers where she could keep her things and receive her mail.

It was the first time she had ever lived alone. She wanted to give herself time to see what it was like.

Now it was a few minutes after seven. She and Laura had eaten dinner in a small Italian restaurant on Christopher Street with candles on the table and soft recorded music. Laura knew just what to order and what wine went with what food, and Jan admired her for this. Part of it was inevitable, of course; there are certain things one is more likely to learn in Westchester and in expensive schools than in Rushville and Indiana University.

But there was more to it than that. Laura always knew the right thing to do and the right words to say. They were not far apart in age, but Laura made Jan feel years younger in comparison.

Laura didn’t work. For awhile she had, but now her mother supported her. Once a month a check arrived in a plain envelope, with no letter to accompany it. Every month Laura deposited the check to her account and drew on it. She always spent less than she received and the account grew steadily.

“Won’t you ever work again?” Jan had asked.

“Why? She feels it’s her duty to support me and I’m perfectly willing to let her do her duty.”

When Laura said it the logic was clear. But now Jan wondered. It was easy — living on an allowance, never working and never worrying about money. But where was Laura headed? She would go on living the same life forever, never moving toward a concrete goal, never a part of anything larger than herself.

But that wasn’t quite it either. For, by the same token, that was the life she herself had selected. Her father was supporting her and she didn’t have the slightest intention of getting a job. She and Laura were limited — they weren’t cut out to be career women and they were obviously not about to get married. All they were equipped for was love, and unfortunately there wasn’t much money in love.

But was love enough?

It was. God, it was more than enough, more than the world. She could never doubt the importance or magnificence of it, not after the first night or Monday morning or Monday night or that morning. Not after the experience of waking up without feeling lost or alone, not after opening her eyes for the first time and knowing instantly who she was and where she was and what she was doing there. Not after turning in the bed and seeing Laura lying beside her, looking at her with love.

Not after those things.

Now it was Tuesday. They had been together for almost two glorious days.

She was sitting in the living room smoking a cigarette, wondering whether she should wait any longer before going to Laura’s apartment. She still wanted very much to be with Laura; at the same time she could use a few minutes more to relax by herself and get organized.

And she wanted to change her clothes. She had to dress differently as often as possible so that Laura could never tire of her and would go on wanting her and wanting to be with her forever. She stubbed out her cigarette in an ashtray and hurried to the bathroom, wondering what to wear.

Nothing too fancy, she decided. But nothing too casual either. Something just right, something that would suit her mood and the decor of the apartment.

Above all, something Laura would like.

She picked out a gold-colored paisley print outfit, the skirt flaring out in great splashes of color, while the low-cut blouse showed off her figure.

A few minutes later she was back again in the comfortable chair in the living room, smoking another cigarette and waiting for time to pass. She was going to be waiting for a lot of time to pass, she reflected. She wouldn’t go back to Indiana when the summer ended. She might stay in the Barrow Street apartment. If Ruthie wanted the place back she would move in with Laura. At any rate she would stay in New York, but she certainly had to find something to do or she would go stir-crazy.

Work was out for the time being. She could always take courses toward a master’s degree at NYU, but she didn’t want a master’s in the least and the thought of a classroom was not appealing. She ought to try writing again — the poetry she’d written at school hadn’t been too bad. Or drawing or painting, maybe. She wasn’t too great at either, but she wasn’t terrible and she could improve. At least she could be doing something and that was important.

Laura spent her time reading. Laura devoured books by the ton, buying them in carload lots from the bookstores on Fourth Avenue and churning through everything from sociology to ancient history, from economics to Chinese calligraphy. Laura talked about writing sometimes, but she said it as though it didn’t really matter very much one way or the other and Jan doubted that she would ever get around to it. But she was always busy, always doing something and always very intent upon what she was doing.

It was almost time. As soon as she finished the cigarette she would walk to Minetta Street and Laura’s apartment. They would talk first. Laura knew so much and understood so many things that there would always be new topics for them.

They would never have to spend their time the way so many girls like them did. Drinking at The Shadows. Sitting up nights at gay parties chattering and drinking and waiting to crawl into bed. As long as they had enough within themselves and within their relationship, everything would be perfect. The sad gay girls were the ones who were empty inside.

When the buzzer rang she pressed the answering buzzer automatically without pausing to wonder who it might be, her mind wrapped up in her thoughts. When there was a knock at the door she answered it without quite realizing that someone was coming to see her.

It was Mike.

For a moment she didn’t recognize him. She couldn’t understand what he was doing there. She had hardly thought of him since his last visit on Sunday and it seemed to her as though he should know by now that she wasn’t at all for him, that she had gone over the ridge into the darkness and that she did not need him at all.

“Did I give you enough time?”

“What?” She didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Enough time to think about it? I told you to take your time and I wondered whether you made up your mind yet or not.”

“I—”

“To go out with me. That’s all.”

Of course she didn’t want to go out with him. She didn’t want to see him at all, didn’t want to think about him or to have him think about her. This sort of mess had happened once before in Indiana with Philip Dresser and that time it took her weeks to get rid of him. But she had to get through to Mike.

“Come in,” she said.

She closed the door after him and followed him to the living room. When he sat down on the couch she remained standing, nervous and jittery and not knowing exactly where to start.

“Mike,” she began.

“No decision yet?”

“No. I’ve decided.”

“And?”

It wasn’t going well at all. She had to tell him bluntly and swiftly or it would just drag on until he was back again in a few days. And that wasn’t what she wanted.

“Mike,” she said.

She paused and he stared at her.

“I don’t want to see you again.”

He didn’t seem to understand or to accept what he had heard. She wanted to leave it at that but she couldn’t. She had to get through to him.

“It’s better that way,” she went on. “I can’t tell you why exactly but it is. I just can’t see you again. If I could explain it you wouldn’t want to see me at all. Do you understand what I mean?”

“No. Not at all.”

“But you’ve got to understand. Look, I know that you want me very much. Is that right?”

He said, “That’s right.” He started to say something else but stopped himself.

“And right now you just want to see me, but if you see me you’ll want more. Won’t you?”

He tossed his head impatiently. “Jan,” he said, “I don’t know what kind of guy you went with last, but I don’t have sex on the brain. Can’t you see that? I—”

“I don’t think either of us is talking about sex.”

He was silent.

“I mean love.”

There was a long pause.

“All right,” he said at last. “I think I’m in love with you.”

“You think so. But you’re not. You don’t really know me.

“You won’t give me a chance.”

“Mike,” she said, “if you knew me you wouldn’t be in love with me.”

“Jan, you’re talking in riddles.” His voice rose. “I have to see you. Why can’t you give me a chance? Why?”

God, she thought. This is unbearable. God, I’m going to hurt him and there’s absolutely nothing else I can do.

And she said, “Because I could never possibly love you, Mike. I couldn’t possibly want to see you or be with you. Not ever.”

He leaned forward and rested his head in both hands. Neither of them said anything for several minutes! When he spoke his voice was husky.

“Jan, are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Jan, I—”

“I’m positive, Mike.”

Silence.

“I guess that’s all then.” He stood up and started for the door.

“Mike—”

He turned.

“I...I like you very much.”

“Cut it, will you?”

“I mean it. And Mike, someday you’ll find someone.”

When she said the last sentence he stopped still in his tracks with his hand outstretched for the doorknob. “You know,” he said hollowly, “there’s absolutely no answer to that one. The only thing I could say is I already have, and that’s pretty corny.”

Then he was through the door, slamming it hard behind him. The outer door banged shut seconds later and he was walking down the street swiftly with his hands plunged deep in the pockets of his dungarees. She watched from the window until he turned up Seventh Avenue and disappeared from view.

When she entered the apartment Laura was sitting on the sofa reading. She looked up and smiled, putting down the book and walking toward Jan with her arms outstretched. Jan went to her and they kissed, and Jan relaxed for the first time since Mike stormed out of her apartment.

Laura stepped back. “What’s the matter, dear?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“Because you’re shaking, idiot. Tell me about it.”

Sitting next to Laura on the sofa she said, “Mike was over to the apartment.”

“What happened?”

“I got rid of him.”

“That’s good. How?”

“I told him I didn’t want to see him again. I said I didn’t love him and I never could.”

“Did you tell him why?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, did you tell him you were gay?”

She was stunned. It had never even occurred to her, and although it was the obvious way, the way that could end things immediately between them, it seemed somehow out of the question.

“No,” she said. “I didn’t tell him that.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t even think of it.”

“That would have been the best way, Jan. Is he in love with you?”

“I think so.”

“Then he’ll be back. You’ll have to tell him next time.”

She hesitated. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t think I could tell him.”

Laura looked away. “Honey,” she said, “are you ashamed of what you are?”

“Don’t be silly. I just—”

“Of course you’re ashamed. It’s only natural at this point. But you’ve got to get over it, Jan. It’ll only keep you miserable.”

“I’m not miserable.”

“You will be if you don’t learn to live with yourself. Do you know what it’s like to live a lie? You worry every minute over somebody finding out that you’re gay. You’re sensitive to everything.

“Jan, you can go out of your mind that way. One day you’ll pick up a newspaper and see a headline that says Flood Waters Rise; Dikes Threatened and you’ll get defensive. You’ll—”

Jan laughed.

“I mean it,” Laura went on. “It isn’t enough to accept yourself. You’ve got to accept the fact that the world is going to know what you are.”

“Can you accept it?”

“Most of the time.”

“Does your mother know?”

“Do you think she’d be so anxious to support me if she didn’t? This way she knows I’ll stay away from her and her precious husband.”

Jan tried to picture herself telling her father, with him unable to understand it at all. She thought of what it would be like to tell the people she knew — Ruthie, Mike, her few friends from Indiana. The picture was unreal and impossible.

“I couldn’t,” she said, half to Laura and half to herself.

“You will, honey. You’ll have to.”

“But I couldn’t!”

Laura smiled and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Relax. You’ll tell them in time, or else they’ll find out and confront you with it. But forget it for now. It’s only been two days, Jan. Not even that. I think you’re still a little bit afraid of it all.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“No?”

“Nope,” she said.

“You’re tough, I suppose.”

“Tough as nails.”

“You chew nails.”

“And spit bullets.”

“Come here, toughie. Kiss me.”

“That okay?”

“Mmmmm. Do it again.”

“God, how I love you!”

“Tell me again.”

“I love you, Jan.”

Teasingly, “Again.”

“I... oh, Jan!”

“I like the way you’re dressed, Jan.”

“I’m not dressed, really. I’m all mussed up.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So don’t play semantic games. But I do like your clothes. You should always wear gold, honey.”

“You like it?”

“I like it on you very much. And the top is perfect. You should always wear that sort of neckline.”

“Why?”

Laura laughed. “Nope. I won’t be forced into a compliment.”

“Laura?”

“Hmmm?”

“Do you like me?”

“Idiot.”

“Then just sort of hold me, because it’s so quiet and peaceful when you do.”

“Poor baby. You’re sleepy.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Why don’t you take a little nap?”

“You mean like this?”

“Sure. Just close your eyes and sleep for awhile.”

She obeyed. It was unbelievably restful in Laura’s arms. Laura leaned back a little and her head dropped to Laura’s bosom. It was soft and warm beneath her cheek.

Sleepily, “Laura?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t let go of me.”

“I won’t, silly.”

“Mmmmm. Don’t let go, Laura. Because if you do I’ll fall. I’m all right when you hold me.”