At last he gazed up at her out of tormented, colorless eyes. He gagged twice as if he were going to be sick, and Gerry felt a twinge of alarm for the rug, but he struggled to his feet and lurched into the hall. She followed him, tall, regal and remote. Warm Gerry fought her way forward for an instant to lay a hand on his arm, steadying him. “Sorry, Clarke.” Then Cold Gerry had the upper hand again. “But I warned you when we first met that I was a disappointing woman. Now you know.”
At the door he turned. Now would come the good loser, the flippancy, and all would end on a proper note. But it didn’t. “I ought to knock you down and pull the clothes off you,” he said. “Only you know I won’t. You’re just a teaser. That’s what you are. Do you hear me? Just a teaser. A lousy teaser.” His voice had risen until it cracked ludicrously. Cold Gerry could barely keep herself from laughing in his face.
“You... you made me think you wanted me,” the man’s voice went on, in a lower key with more control. “All right, I’ve learned. You don’t have to worry about me saying anything about you. I won’t talk. I won’t ever mention your name again. Not even to myself, I won’t. You tear a man into bloody chunks and then you want to be civilized and... and... oh, go to hell!”
He fumbled with the door catch and Gerry had to work it for him and open the door. She closed it softly behind him and stood listening until the elevator rose, stopped, opened, closed and descended.
Then Warm Gerry filled her and she pressed her forehead against the cool metal of the apartment door. The tears went sliding down her face until Cold Gerry, indignant, pushed her back, back, far back in the mind, saying harshly, “Be careful, you fool. He may come stumbling back. Don’t open the door. Don’t open the door. Get in the shower and turn on the water so you can’t hear the doorbell. You fool, some day you will be lost.”
But Clarke Trowbridge did not come back. That night he took twenty-eight sleeping capsules. And when Gerry read about it in the paper the next morning, Warm Gerry cried, the silly tears making her eyes red. Life was so hard on sensitive people.
Dr. Immanuel Fein’s hands on the wheel and the gearshift lever had a sureness of touch that made Gerry feel safe and well-taken-care-of. He slid his big convertible into the parking bay; under the full moon, rolling hills lay silvery with the night. Then he cut the motor and the lights and drew on the hand brake.
Gerry untied her scarf and ran her hands through her hair, shaking it out. She took a deep breath and leaned back against the upholstery, watching the stars. The summer wind brought back memories of evenings at home, the hammock on the front porch and boys who talked softly in the darkness, and a group of kids singing close harmony. Gerry remembered her own contralto among them and sighed.
Dr. Fein took off his glasses and placed them on the dashboard shelf. He let his arm slide around her waist; Gerry drew another breath and leaned toward him. She felt the exciting hardness of the muscle in his arm as he held her closer. His lips touched her hair at the temple. And his voice whispered, “Darling.”
She made a contented little sound. Warm Gerry thrilled to Manny’s touch. His breath quickened. “I wanted to bring you out here, Gerry,” he said softly. “On an evening when there was a moon. I’ve often stopped here when I was alone and wished a girl like you was with me. And now you’re here.”
Her lips found the hollow of his throat. “I’m here.”
His arms tightened. Warm Gerry let her hand slide up to find his cheek. Without his glasses the sternness left him. He was really a very handsome man. And it was sweet being with him under moonlight. And safe. Safe here with other cars nearby. Manny would do nothing to alarm her. Only the sweet things which stirred her and in a strange way satisfied her, tingling all over, in a way no man could understand.
At last he took his mouth from hers. “Want to ask you something Gerry. Same old question. Why not marry me? Don’t have to wear a ring. Don’t have to change your name. Or give up your apartment. Or your job. Let’s just go along together... always. Say, ‘Yes.’ ”
“Manny, darling — mustn’t ask me that.”
“But you like seeing me?”
She dug her nails into the muscle of his arm.
“Want... want to go back to your place?”
“Anywhere you want to go, Manny.”
He was silent on the drive home, manipulating the car expertly with his left hand. His right she kept prisoner between her own and when he tightened his fingers her own replied.
In the vestibule of the apartment house she turned. This time his hands were demanding and his lips hard. Cold Gerry, who had been waiting with that marble patience which was her strength, pushed Warm Gerry aside and Manny was kissing Cold Gerry instead. He recoiled. “Gerry, hon — what’s the matter?”
“Nothing, Manny. It’s been a very pleasant evening. Now you must let me go.”
“It’s early, Gerry. Let’s have some coffee and a cigarette together.”
She shook her head. “Too late.”
He seized her in his arms, crushing his mouth against hers, and Warm Gerry fought, whimpering and clawing, to get through to him and give herself to him and let him hurt her the way women have always let men hurt them. Cold Gerry had a tussle with her but managed to push her out and hold her away.
“I don’t get it,” Manny said hoarsely at last. “Gerry — do you realize we’ve had four dates in the past week? You do care for me. I couldn’t get my signals crossed after... I just don’t get it.”
Then Cold Gerry spoke. “No, Manny. You mustn’t misunderstand me. There is no room in my life for sex. I decided long ago that I must go one way or the other. If I gave in I would end in the gutter. I have my own standards. And nothing you say or do can change me in the least.” Like words from an old play. She drew breath and went on more softly, “Please go now.”
Dr. Immanuel Fein had taken off his glasses when they entered the vestibule. Now he drew them from his pocket, opened them with a flip and put them on. His voice was detached, kindly and businesslike... a doctor’s voice. His fingers snapped suddenly beside her ear with a sound like a rifle shot.
“Who says that? Who taught you that speech?”
Gerry swallowed hard. Deep inside her Warm Gerry was screaming, “Mother says it! Mother! Mother! Let me out. Let me out to him. I want him to kiss me. I want him to have me. To have me, have me, have me. To hurt me and love me. Don’t listen to Mother. She’s dead. She’s dead.”
Cold Gerry smiled with one corner of her mouth. “Why... why I say it — Doctor Fein. Yes — I say it. Now, please, let’s say good night.”
But Dr. Fein had no intention of saying good night. He said, “Come out and sit in the car a minute, Gerry. I want to talk to you. For real.”
Cold Gerry smiled.
“If you wish. But only for a moment.”
“Sure. ‘Only a moment’ is all I need. If you can listen.”
He slid in first and then reached across her and closed the door softly. “Gerry — forget all about I ever proposed to you. Or touched you. All that stuff.”
“Yes?” Smiling faintly, smiling sweetly, statue of Diana, maiden goddess, chaste and fair.
“Now listen to me, kid. I’m not trying to sell you a bill of goods. I think you’re swell. I want to help you...”
Cold Gerry had met this I-want-to-help-you-type before, but it was just deceit to cover up what they really wanted. She listened coolly.
“I mean it. Gerry — let me ask you something and I want you to answer straight out, without taking time to think. Are there two of you?”
“How dare you!” Furiously she fumbled with the latch of the car door. “Let me out of this car before I have to start screaming for the police.”