Even in her humiliation Hedra had to smile. "No, not exactly. But I guess, well, yeah, maybe something like that. I just wanted to try on the dress and see how I'd look, is all."
"Then it's simple as that," Allie said. "No point getting uptight and Freudian about it."
"I guess not," Hedra agreed, after seeming to consider for a moment whether to let Freud in on this.
Allie moved away from her and sat down on the edge of the mattress. The bedsprings sang. Sam. "Don't envy me, Hedra. My life's not as good as it seems from the outside. I have doubts, problems. Just like you do. Big problems sometimes." "Only sometimes, though. And you solve them." "Not always." Hedra frowned, puzzled. "You mean Sam?" "Yeah, him." "That'll work out eventually." "I don't want it to work out." "You want it to be over? Permanently?" "It is over. And as permanently as I can make it." "You're really sure?" "Most of the time."
"Well, the way you look, Allie, men'll never cause you to suffer forever. I seem to have big problems all the time. And it shows and just makes things worse for me.
"It doesn't show as much as you think. You're attractive and smart, Hedra; you need to believe in yourself more." Christ, I sound like Dear Abby, she thought.
Hedra ran a hand over the silky front of the dress. "That's easy enough to say."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. But you're a kind of Pygmalion determined to make yourself over, and that's all right. Shows there's lots of hope and plenty to work with. You'll be okay, Hedra, I can sense it." "Sense it? Actually?" "Actually. And it's not like me to be wrong, is it?"
Hedra giggled. "I suppose not. Oh!" She suddenly unbuckled the silver belt, then reached around and unzipped the dress. As if she'd abruptly remembered her transgression and wanted to set things right, like a child seeking parental forgiveness.
Allie sat and watched her strip to panties and bra. She really didn't have a bad figure. Better than it appeared in the drab and poorly cut clothes she favored. "Leave on the earrings, Hedra. Maybe I've got another dress you'd like."
She turned and stared at Allie with disbelief. "You don't mean, after this…?"
"You didn't steal or destroy anything," Allie reminded her.
"I'd never purposely destroy anything of yours," she said with all the fervor of a Girl Scout uttering a sacred oath.
Allie got up from the bed and walked to the closet. Wire hangers whined on the steel rod as she separated her clothes and found an inexpensive beige dress. It was styled very much like the blue one Hedra was now fitting with precision back on its hanger. Less full, longer hemline, but similar. "Try this one on," Allie said, and withdrew the beige dress from the closet with the kind of flourish she'd seen salespeople use in exclusive boutiques. Hedra was impressed. "You mean it?" "Mean it," Allie assured her.
Within a few minutes Hedra was wearing the beige dress, pivoting in front of the full-length mirror. Her movements were exaggerated yet controlled, almost like a dance.
She moved away from the mirror, smiling, and slipped into her brown shoes with the medium-height heels that had been lying near the bed. Took another look in the mirror, then spun neatly in a tight two-step so the skirt billowed. "What do you think, Allie?"
"I think it looks terrific on you." The dress was flattering. "Better than on me." "No, that could never be."
"You're good for my ego, Hedra, even if you're not very realistic." "I hope I'm good for something," she said timidly.
My God! Allie thought. She said, "You need a drink. In fact, I need a drink." Do I ever! "Now?" "Especially now."
"Okay, Allie. Let me get this off." She contorted her arms, elbows out, to grope behind her back for the zipper. "No, leave the dress on. It's yours." "But I can't afford to pay for it." "I don't want you to pay. It's a gift." "You're kidding!" "I'm not kidding, damn it!" Too sharp again.
Hedra didn't seem to know why Allie was suddenly irritated. She lowered her arms and said, "Thank you, Allie," and almost curtsied. Allie said, "I'm not royalty, Hedra." "What do you mean?" "Never mind. Let's go. The glass coach is waiting."
No coach. Not even a cab. They walked through the gloomy gray afternoon to a restaurant and bar over on Broadway near West 76th. Before they entered, Allie noticed that the lighted time-and-temperature sign on the Apple Bank said it was one o'clock, but she wasn't at all in need of lunch. The bedroom encounter with Hedra seemed to have killed her appetite. Intense emotion did that to her, be it anger or pity.
There was piped-in music in the bar, heavy-metal rock, but it wasn't loud. The restaurant was through a low arch; Allie could see several people seated at red-clothed tables, eating lunch.
She and Hedra sat in the bar, at one of the small wooden tables against the wall. Allie looped her purse strap over the back of her chair, close to the wall where no one could snatch it, and looked around.
The place was darkly paneled, with a lot of high shelves lined with fancy beer mugs. Spicy cooking scents wafted in from the adjoining restaurant. Half a dozen people were perched on stools at the long bar. About a dozen more sat at tables. Allie's gaze drifted back to the mugs. A few of them looked like antiques. She wondered if they were worth something to collectors. The bar owner might not know, might be ignorant of such things.
Not likely, she told herself, not in New York. Everybody but tourists seemed to know the price of everything in the city. Except for the slowly exacted price they were paying for living here.
A tired-looking barmaid plodded over to their table. She stood poised with her order pad, waiting, looking indirectly and dispassionately at them as if she didn't know or care if they were genuine human beings or cardboard cutouts. She finally said, "Yeah?" then took their order.
Allie had two martinis. Hedra drank a Tab, then a martini. She seemed to enjoy the olive more than the drink. A matched pair of guys in gray business suits interrupted their loud conversation about the Jets long enough to size up the two women. One of the men had bad teeth and appeared drunk. Allie looked away before Hedra did. She saw in the mirror that the other man winked at Hedra.
Swiveling in her chair to face Allie, Hedra said, "No thanks." "They didn't offer," Allie said. "They would if we gave them encouragement." "Most likely."
Football talk began again. Louder. Then the subject was changed abruptly to the stock market. Probably to impress anyone who might overhear. Be a bear, said the guy with crooked teeth. The one who'd winked at Hedra was bullish on more than America.
Hedra glanced again in the men's direction. "Couple of creeps."
"Maybe not," Allie said. "You never know." "Nobody knows for sure about anything," the philosopher Hedra said.
That was the truth. When they got back to the Cody Arms, Sam had just come out and was jogging down the steps.
11
SAM saw Allie and Hedra and took the last few steps slowly, then came to a complete halt outside the Cody Arms and stood still, like a wind-up toy that had run down. He was wearing gray sweatpants, a blue pullover shirt, and his maroon Avia jogging shoes. He needed a haircut badly. Allie thought he might have lost a few pounds. Not in a healthy way, but as if he'd been sick. She stifled a thrust of concern for him, watching his eyes dart from her to Hedra and then back.
He said, "I was out for a run, and I thought it might as well be in this direction so I could see you." Allie said, "About what?"
He frowned. "Is that where we are? It has to be about something?" "'Fraid so, Sam."
He stared at Hedra until silence began to build on itself and someone had to speak.
Finally Allie said, "This is Hedra Carlson. Hedra, Sam Rawson."
Allie saw him give Hedra a quick up-and-down glance, show mild surprise as he recognized the beige dress. She'd worn it one weekend they'd spent in the Catskills; he'd removed it from her in a way she couldn't forget. Sam shook Hedra's hand gently. "You an old friend of Allie's?"