The handball bounced out into the street and one of the boys chased it past the wheels of a car. There was a squeal of brakes; then the car started up and drove away and the boys went back to their game. Jan glanced at the old woman and saw that she hadn’t moved, hadn’t even looked up at the sudden noise.
She thought how terrible it must be to be old. Sitting around with nothing to do and no place to go. She shivered at the thought, but at the same time she felt comfort in knowing that she herself was not old, that she had places to go and things to do and would have them for a good long time.
Then it occurred to her that it was not just the woman’s age, that it was not age at all. It was the loneliness. She knew just by looking at the woman that she had nobody, and without knowing anything about her other than that her hair was grey and her legs ugly, she could tell that there was no one inside the building waiting for the woman and no one in the city who would come home to her.
No one would know when the woman died.
This was frightening. It was far more frightening than age or ugliness or the grave.
Was Jan alone? She was now. Only Mike and Ruthie so much as knew where she was, and Ruthie was in Mexico and she never wanted to see Mike again.
In that sense she was alone. She had never even met the girl she was to see that night, but she knew that from the moment they met she would not be alone again. She was alone now as surely as the old woman was alone, but she would not be alone after tonight. That was the difference between them: she was waiting to love and be loved, and the woman was waiting only to die.
She felt that she ought to read something. She picked up three books, one after another, reading the first few pages of each and replacing each in turn on the bookshelf. After the third book she decided that she didn’t want to read, that in fact she didn’t want to do anything at all.
If only it could suddenly turn into night, if four or five hours could drop from time forever. In a sense the anticipation was pleasant, but it was also agonizingly long.
And she was worried.
Would Laura like her? Would she, Jan, say the right things and smile the right sort of smile and keep her mouth shut at the proper time?
For that matter, would she do the right things in bed?
She was terribly ignorant. From the first moment years ago when she had suspected herself of being gay she had devoured every available book on the subject of female homosexuality. Every type of book but an instruction manual, she thought, laughing to herself. There didn’t seem to be anything in print along those lines. She knew what to feel and what to think, but the basic mechanics were outside of her circle of knowledge.
What would she do? What would Laura expect her to do; what kind of caresses would she want? Laura was experienced, of course. Laura had loved before and had been loved before, and Jan hoped desperately that she would be good enough. She had to be good — that was all there was to it.
Through the window she watched a boy saunter by with his hands plunged deep in his pockets, whistling something and shuffling his feet along the pavement. There were so many people in New York, so many people whom you could see a million times and never meet. She still hadn’t met anybody living in her building. All she knew was that somebody had a dog that barked in the middle of the night Otherwise the building might as well be empty.
Lighting another cigarette, she realized that she didn’t actually have a date with Laura. Once she made her decision it seemed obvious that they would meet that night, but it hit her that no arrangements had been made, no time set, no place designated for them.
She almost dropped her cigarette.
She would go to The Shadows. Laura would be there. Laura had to be there; that was all there was to it.
The boys weren’t playing ball any more. They had vanished and only the motionless old woman remained. Otherwise Barrow Street was empty.
The buzzer jarred her at a quarter to five. She had managed somehow to drift into a semiconscious state, half submerged in a book and half asleep in the comfortable chair. It took her several seconds to identify the buzzing sound and several more seconds to decide who it could be. For one wild moment she suspected that it was Laura coming to see her, coming to meet her and make love to her, until she remembered that Laura didn’t know who she was or where she lived.
Only two people knew where she lived. One was in Mexico.
It could only be Mike, then, and she didn’t want to see him, especially this afternoon when she was waiting to meet Laura. She half-decided to let the buzzer remain unanswered, but when it sounded a second time she remembered that he had undoubtedly seen her through the window on his way into the vestibule. She walked slowly to the answering buzzer and pressed it once, hearing the outer door swing open.
She heard his footsteps coming up the hallway. Then he knocked and she walked to the door, not wanting to open it.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me — Mike.”
“What do you want?”
“Just to see you. Can I come in?”
She opened the door part of the way. He was dressed in the same clothes he had worn yesterday and he looked tired, as though he hadn’t slept much that night. His guitar was slung over one shoulder.
“Can I come in, Jan?”
She opened the door the rest of the way and motioned him inside and soon they were seated in the living room just as they had been the afternoon before. She thought that there should have been some way to get rid of him, some quick gambit to keep him from entering the apartment, some conversational trick to hurry him out the door and down the street. But it was infinitely easier to open the door for him and follow him to the living room.
“I got the audition,” he was saying. “I called Henry just a minute ago and it’s all set.”
“What audition?”
He looked at her for a minute, puzzled, and then laughed.
“That’s right, I didn’t tell you. A friend of mine has been trying to set up an audition for me with Comet Records and it’s set now. It’s next Thursday night.”
“Mike, that’s wonderful!”
“It may be. It could be a break and it could turn out to be nothing, but it’s a chance. If I’m good it means a chance to cut a record.”
“You’ll be good.”
“I’d better.” He crossed his legs and leaned back on the couch.
“Let’s celebrate in advance, huh? Just to be on the safe side. What are you doing tonight?”
“I’m busy.” The reply came spontaneously and it didn’t seem like a lie to her. In her mind she already had a date with Laura.
“I see. I’d have asked you earlier but—”
“But you just called Henry.”
“Yeah. How’s tomorrow night?”
Stop it, she thought. And she said, “I’m busy then, too.”
He nodded. “The night after?”
She opened her mouth to say that she was busy that night and every night but the words didn’t come out. She wanted to tell him that as far as he was concerned she was busy for the rest of her life, but she didn’t want to hurt him. And yet he kept on, kept asking to be hurt.
“Jan,” he said slowly, “what’s the matter?”
“Nothing’s the matter.”
“Cut it. You’re off-again on-again like an old crystal set. What’s the bit?”
She didn’t answer.
“You don’t want to go out with me. Why?”
She didn’t say anything.
“Is it because I kissed you last night?”
She shook her head.
“Well?”
He leaned forward staring at her and she thought, He’s trying so hard. God, he’s trying so hard.