“They are?”
“Yeah. Miserable people.”
“What’s wrong with them?”
“They’re not like us. We’re alike — did you know that?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Mike and Ike — we think alike. Except it’s Mike and Jan, isn’t it?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I like the way you say that. You say it with a giggle even when you keep your face straight. You’re pretty drunk.”
“Uh-huh.” She giggled aloud, thinking that he wasn’t quite as sober as she had thought. “You’re silly.”
“I am?”
“Uh-huh.”
More people came in. The boy playing Mike’s guitar was singing a song that everybody seemed to know and the party was getting progressively noisier. The girl with the eye make-up and the long black hair who had been sitting with Mike was alone in a corner drinking from a dark brown bottle. Another boy had passed out silently with his head in a girl’s lap. The girl didn’t seem aware of him and went on talking earnestly to another couple, absently running her fingers through the boy’s hair while she talked.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“No.”
“Come on. It’s too damn noisy here.”
“Where can we go?”
“Some place quiet.”
She shook her head. “You can’t leave now. It’s your party.”
“So what?”
“Well, you can’t leave your own party, can you?”
“Sure I can.”
“No.” She shook her head solemnly. “Besides, you have a girl here.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. The girl in the corner with the blue stuff on her eyes. I think she’s drunk.”
“I think you’re drunk, too.”
“I think she’s drunker. I think she wants you to go over and talk to her.”
“Is that what you want?”
“I’m not sure. She’s your girl, isn’t she?”
“Not really. I... oh, the hell with it. Let’s get out of this hole.”
She put a cigarette between her lips and let him light it for her. It was tasteless, and she wondered whether it was the wine she had drunk that made the cigarette tasteless or whether it was because she had been smoking too many cigarettes.
“Let’s stay right here. It’s a nice party.”
“The hell it is.”
“It’s a beautiful party. And you can’t leave your own party in your own apartment, and you can’t leave Saundra.”
His eyes widened. “How did you know her name?”
“You introduced me, sort of. At the coffee shop.”
He nodded, remembering.
“Besides, she’s pretty.”
“Do you think so?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Honestly?”
She lowered her head and regarded the cigarette thoughtfully. “I think,” she said, “that she looks as though she’s made out of cardboard.”
He laughed. She like the way he laughed, the way he let his whole body relax in laughter.
“She is,” he said. “Cardboard and library paste.”
“With stuff on her eyes.”
“Definitely. Look, let’s get the hell out of here.”
He stood up and reached down for her hand, and it was very natural to stand up and slip her hand into his. Her hand seemed very small when he held it, small and soft in his, and she felt the tips of his fingers close around the back of her hand. They were rough and calloused from the guitar.
They were at the doorway when she asked, “Where are we going?”
“Anywhere. It doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“I suppose not.”
“As long as it’s quiet.”
They were on the stairway and she had to lean against him just a little. Too much wine, she thought. She was just a little dizzy, with just a little too much wine in her, and it was just a little bit difficult for her to keep up with everything that was happening.
“Too much of that lousy vino,” he said.
“Uh-huh. Beer, too.”
“The beer wasn’t too bad. Hang on until you get outside. The air’ll help.”
“I guess so. Where’re we going?”
“I don’t know. Where it’s quiet, that’s all. What’s the difference?”
Slowly, she said, “I think I’m a little afraid of you.”
“Afraid?”
She squeezed his hand. “Uh-huh. I like being with you and it scares me too.”
“You don’t have to be afraid.”
“Maybe not.”
“You don’t. I’m harmless.”
“Sure.”
“Honest. We’ll just walk around for awhile. The air will do you good and it won’t hurt me either. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“No passes. I promise.”
“Okay.”
“And there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“I guess not.”
“There really isn’t. I like you too much to chance spoiling things.”
She looked up at him, searching his eyes, hoping that he was telling the truth and that he really did like her, that he liked her very much. It seemed important to her. She wasn’t sure why.
“Do you? Don’t say that unless you mean it.”
“I mean it.”
“That’s good,” she said. “It really is.”
Outside the cold air hit her in the head like a sledgehammer. She was sober all at once, still a bit light in the head but no longer dizzy. She breathed deeply. The air in New York was so different at night. The heat was gone from it and the smoke and grime of the city were not so noticeable.
It was quiet as only New York can be late at night. She heard the late sounds: staccato footsteps that can be heard when only a few people are on the sidewalks, sharp car noises that in the daytime are only part of the blended rumble of the city. When a car passed them on Cornelia Street it seemed out of place, as if all the cars should have been locked up for the night hours ago.
They didn’t speak. It wasn’t necessary, for there was a certain rapport already established between them. The closeness induced by the wine had vanished with the shock of the cold air, but it had been replaced by a clearer emotion.
She felt as though she were standing on the top of a narrow ridge. On one side was the sunlit world, a world of husband and children and the home she wanted. On the other side was the shadow world, the gay world, the Lesbian world.
One little push. That was all it would take — one little push and she would topple from her perch. It wasn’t an easy perch to hold; the ridge grew narrower every day, and every day she thought she was about to fall. She wanted so much to reach out her fingers and grab at the sunshine.
If she tried to jump it would be too easy to slip and fall back into the shadows. Once she had tried to jump. She had been lucky then; she was still on the ridge.
And every day the ridge narrowed.
They were on Bleecker Street walking toward Sixth Avenue. Her hand still felt soft and small and comfortable in his, and she still leaned a little against him although she wasn’t drunk any longer.
“What time is it?”
Her voice shattered the silence just as the cold air had shattered the drunkenness. As soon as she had spoken the question she found herself leaning less upon him. She almost wanted to remove her hand from his, but she left it where it was.
“Around three.”
“Three? How did it get to be three?”
“Closer to two, maybe.”
“That’s still a good five hours. What did I do for five hours?”
“Most of the time you were drinking, I guess. I didn’t even see you come in, so it’s hard to say what you were doing before I saw you.”
“I didn’t do anything silly, did I?”
He laughed. “I don’t think you talked to anyone all night long.” She shook her head, unable to believe that the time had passed that quickly and that she had done nothing for so many hours.