The door slammed shut at the far end of the courtyard. Soon the little blonde girl would be kissing Laura’s lips and touching her breasts. Jan was jealous. It was an irrational jealousy, but she couldn’t help it.
Mike, who was holding her now and stroking her hair, was undoubtedly sleeping with Saundra, but she didn’t care in the least.
Laura.
Let’s face it, she thought. Let’s face it once and for all. You’re not on the goddamned ridge any more. You’re in the shadows, Miss Marlowe. You’re gay as a jay.
Give in.
To give in. To find Laura and go with her, to replace the little blonde in the apartment on Minetta and to sleep every night with Laura.
To love.
The thought started her trembling, and Mike did the one impossible and inevitable and unforgivable thing at that moment.
He kissed her.
Actually, she realized, it was the most natural thing he could have done. He tilted her head back and lowered his mouth to hers and held her close and kissed her. It was completely natural.
But she was not natural.
She drew back almost instantly, pushing him away from her.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Don’t.”
He was breathing heavily. He started to reach for her again but she shook her head and backed away.
“Why not?”
She didn’t answer. She continued to tremble slightly as she backed away, shaking her head as she moved.
Then he shrugged and she knew that he was all right now.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Please, she thought, just don’t say anything. You’re nice and I like you but I want you to go away without saying anything.
“I said no passes,” he went on. “I mean it, too.”
Please. Stop.
“It just seemed right to kiss you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.”
Slowly, they started to walk out of the courtyard. Minetta looked as it had looked before, but now Janet wanted to get back to her own bed in her own apartment.
She was totally sober and very tired.
“I’d better take you home.”
“No.”
“It’s pretty late. I figured—”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I can go home by myself.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Jan. I’m not a sex criminal. I just—”
“I’m not afraid, Mike.” She was conscious of an edge to her voice but he didn’t seem to notice it.
“Well—”
“It’s just that I’d rather walk home alone. I can’t explain it, but I’d rather be alone. Do you understand?”
“Not really. I’d like to walk with you.”
“It’s not far. I have things to think about.”
“Are you sure?”
“Uh-huh.” She smiled. She didn’t feel like smiling but she knew that it would make things easier.
“All right. But at least let me walk with you as far as my place.”
When she hesitated he said, “Not even that, huh? I’ll see you.” He started to turn from her.
“Mike?”
“What?”
“You’re not mad, are you?”
“Not mad. A little disappointed.”
“Don’t be.”
“Why not?”
“You shouldn’t be. I... I mean, you didn’t do anything wrong. Do you understand?”
He nodded. “Sort of.”
“Good,” she said, forcing another smile. “Good night.”
“I’ll see you.”
He turned and walked along Minetta Street toward Sixth and his apartment, and she watched him for a minute, watched him walk with a firm stride. Then she turned and walked off in the opposite direction. She heard him whistle, and she recognized the tune as Danville Girl.
It was better being alone. The night seemed much darker and vaguely empty. Now that he was gone she no longer wanted to hurry back to her apartment, but there was no place else to go, nothing else to do. She followed Minetta Lane up to Macdougal, surprised to see The Shadows just a few doors from the intersection.
Quickly she headed home. She followed the same route she had followed the night before, but it seemed as though last night had been ages ago and that she had walked the same route over and over. Her feet automatically carried her toward Barrow Street.
Mike wanted her. It was more than desire on his part — he loved her, or could fall in love if she gave him half a chance. But she had no intention of giving him that half-chance.
Laura wanted her, too. And Laura would love her, because she would see to that. Laura was the person she wanted and needed.
By the time she reached her apartment she was exhausted and her bed felt good to her. It was late, very late, and the room was properly dark and the bed properly soft and cool. She slept naked, with nothing between her body and the smooth bedsheets.
I’ll see you, he had said. She hoped that he wouldn’t. He deserved a lot more than she could possibly give him. He deserved love, and she knew that she could never love him.
She had so much love stored up, so much love that she had been saving and hiding for so long.
But it was not for him.
Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow she would fall into the darkness. That was where she belonged, and her ridge was now too thin to hold her any longer. Her pilgrimage to New York was a success already. She had found the answer to her question, and although the answer wasn’t the one she would have preferred, it was as she had expected.
Now she knew what she was. It was time to accept it.
Tomorrow.
8
As he climbed the stairs he was struck by the utter silence of the building. The party was over now. Only the smoking ruins would be left. And Saundra would go right on living among them. Maybe she would throw away some bottles or empty an ashtray here and there, but she would make an all-out effort to maintain the general disorder.
The silence was deafening. It was after four, and even Saundra’s charm hadn’t been able to sustain the party any longer than that. He laughed silently, thinking that the guests hadn’t had the opportunity to say good-by to their unwilling host. Not that they would have even if he had been there. It was all part of the ritual. You avoided good manners because society imposed them on you and the Village imposed the reverse. You fought manners, just as you fought cleanliness and belief and emotion. You had to prove forever that nothing really mattered to you, that you were living your own life and would continue to do so even if it killed you.
It hadn’t bothered him before. In the past he lived in filth and missed meals and begged and stole, but before not even the hunger bothered him. Now, for some reason, he wanted more than what he had. More precisely, he wanted something different, but the intensity of his desire made it appear to be something more important and more valuable than what he had at the moment.
What exactly did he want? He paused on the stairway, hunting for a word that would sum up the change in his desires.
Respectability? No, he had lived too long alone and within himself to begin worrying about the opinion of the world. Security? Partly, but it was more than that.
Direction? That was closer. Inevitably, he was getting older, and the period for a person to find himself had to end when he grew older. It might be considered colorful for a guy to knock around the country at sixteen, but by the time he got to be twenty-three he wasn’t colorful any more. He was just a bum.
Sometimes he felt that he was making progress. The audition with Comet, for instance — if that went through he had a chance, and if the chance worked he would have a start in the right direction.