I Am A Woman. Ann Bannon

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СКАЧАТЬ for. Laura was quiet, shyly friendly, thoughtful. Marcie gave her a cram course in cooking, saw an occasional movie with her, and asked her how to spell things. Most of her free time was spent with Burr.

      Laura liked Marcie very much. She tried to keep it that way. She was relieved, as time went on, that her friendship didn’t get complicated by stronger feelings.

      I like Marcie, and that’s all, she mused to herself one time. It gave her a certain satisfaction that most women would not have understood.

      As for Marcie, she was somewhat amused with Laura; with her modesty, which seemed so old-fashioned; with her shyness; with her books. But she felt a real affection for her. Laura wasn’t much for gossip, but she always listened to Marcie’s compulsive confessions. She was gentle and sympathetic. Her ideas were different, and Marcie listened to her with respect.

      Laura wasn’t pretty, but at certain angles, with certain expressions, she was striking and even memorable. Not everyone saw this quality; not everyone took the trouble to study her features. But they made a curious appeal to those who did. Her face was long and slim, and her coloring pale. But her eyes were deep and cornflower blue. If Marcie had studied them she might have seen more worldly wisdom than she dreamed of in her bookish roommate.

      Laura had a good grasp on what it meant to be a woman; on what it meant to live deeply, completely, even when it didn’t last; on what it meant to be a loser. And everyone must lose at least once before he can understand what it is to win.

      Burr had come over the night after Laura moved in. He was of medium height but powerfully built, with a pleasant face. His brown hair was crew cut, his brown eyes sparkled zealously, like those of a man with a mission. His mission, apparently, was Marcie. He seemed to adore her; it was so plain, in fact, that it made you wonder if it was real.

      He walked into the kitchen where Laura and Marcie were finishing the dishes, grabbed Marcie without a word to Laura—he didn’t even seem to see her—and kissed her passionately. Laura self-consciously wiped a dish, put it on the cupboard shelf, and started to back out of the room.

      “Burr! You could have said hello!” Marcie gasped when he released her. “Laura, don’t go. This is—” But he kissed her again. This time when he let go she was mad. It was beautiful to see. Laura was exhilarated with the force of it. Marcie, who was always full of laughter, was walloping Burr with a wet dishcloth and calling him “You bastard!” Her eyes flashed, and she swiped at his face with long meticulously pointed nails. Laura headed for the bedroom, but Marcie turned and caught her.

      “Oh, no!” she said, pulling Laura back. “I want you to see what I married. I want you to tell me if I wasn’t smart to get a divorce. Look at him.”

      Burr, his face damp with dishwater, was gently exploring a nail-inflicted wound with one finger.

      Laura tried to back out, but Burr saw her then and smiled. “Hello, Laura,” he said. “You’ll have to forgive my charming wife. She’s very emotional.”

      “I’m not your wife!” Marcie flared.

      Laura couldn’t help thinking it was all a joke. They both seemed to be enjoying it too much.

      Burr ignored Marcie. “You’ve probably never seen this side of her,” he remarked to Laura. “I used to get it once or twice a day, like medicine. Finally drove me to divorce.” Marcie threw a towel at him and he smiled pleasantly at Laura. “But don’t let it bother you. You’ll never have to marry her, so you’ll avoid the problem.”

      There was a stormy pause. “Have some coffee?” Laura said suddenly to Burr.

      “I’ll fix him a highball,” Marcie sighed. “He hates coffee.”

      “I don’t hate it. Why do you exaggerate, honey?”

      “Well, you drink that horrible Postum crap, like all the grandfathers.”

      “It’s not crap. It’s a hell of a lot better for you than coffee, I can tell you that.”

      “Then why don’t you live on it, darling?”

      “If I wanted sarcasm tonight, I would have gone over to Chita’s.”

      “That whore!”

      “I—I think I’ll turn in,” Laura said softly and hurried toward the door.

      “Don’t be silly!” Marcie looked at her, chagrined. “You haven’t said two words to Burr.”

      “She couldn’t say two words, honey. You’ve been talking too fast. I couldn’t either, for that matter.” He went over to Laura and led her by the hand to a chair. “Let’s talk about you,” he said. “Sit down.”

      Laura felt ridiculous, but she obeyed him.

      “Where’re you from?” he demanded.

      “She’s from Chicago.” Marcie handed him his drink and perched on the drainboard of the sink.

      “Say something from Chicago, Laura.” He grinned at her.

      She shrugged and laughed, embarrassed.

      “What does your old man do?”

      Laura was startled to think of him. He had been out of her mind in the bustle of moving in with Marcie. “He’s a writer—a newspaperman,” she said. She looked so uncomfortable that Burr let it drop.

      After a slight quiet he said, “What do you think of my girl?”

      “Burr, please!” Marcie exclaimed, but he waved at her to shut up.

      “You know you won’t be rooming with her for long, don’t you?” He smiled at Laura, and it looked like a warning sort of smile. It made Laura faintly queasy, as if she had already done something wrong.

      Laura hated to compliment a woman. It was always hypocritical because she could never tell the truth without blushing. The more she admired a girl, the harder it was to talk about her. She began to blush. “She’s a very nice girl,” she said hesitantly.

      “Say it like you mean it!” Burr said. “She’s a wonderful girl. Even if she is a shrew.”

      “Damn! Stop humiliating us, Burr. You aren’t funny.”

      Burr stared at Laura, until she had to say something. “We get along just fine,” she said.

      “Sure. The first two days.” He laughed a little.

      “Burr!” Marcie exploded. “She’s a girl, not an ornery bastard male like you.”

      “Well, I hope you two will be ecstatically happy,” he said, and downed his drink.

      “I won’t be talked about like this!” Marcie said. She dropped down from the drainboard and started out of the room, but Burr caught her around the waist. He was sitting next to Laura, and he buried his face in Marcie’s stomach. Marcie tried to grasp his short hair and push him back. Laura felt the old revulsion rising in her. Burr was doing nothing very shocking or immoral. He was just embracing the girl he loved, the girl who had been his wife. Laura knew that intellectually but her spirit retreated from the sight, repulsed.

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