Laura was kissing her again and Jan was floating in air. She was floating upward now, not falling but floating with her whole body alive and awake and her breathing short and hard and her heart pounding desperately.
Nothing mattered now — nothing but the moment and Laura, and Laura loved her and the moment was perfect.
She remained for a long while in Laura’s arms. She felt as though she had come to the end of a long journey, a trip she had been taking for the whole of her life.
In a thousand books a thousand girls had said, I didn’t know it could be like this. Still the phrase kept running through her mind, over and over. Because it couldn’t be like this, nothing could be like this, and she was so lucky and so happy.
“I love you,” she whispered.
Later, they fell asleep with their arms around each other.
11
She didn’t move in with Laura at the Minetta Street apartment. Laura had asked her to and she had almost accepted, thinking how good it would be to be with Laura all the time, to live with her and share everything between the two of them. But in the end she had decided against it.
The main reason, of course, was that her rent was paid and there was no way to get it back. Ruthie had paid three months’ rent to the landlord and she had paid the same to Ruthie, and the money was gone whether she lived there or not. True, it would cost the same amount either way, but she also wanted the opportunity to have some time to herself and a certain amount of privacy. Laura’s apartment was nicer than hers, but it was also good to have a place of her own, an apartment that was simply hers where she could keep her things and receive her mail.
It was the first time she had ever lived alone. She wanted to give herself time to see what it was like.
Now it was a few minutes after seven. She and Laura had eaten dinner in a small Italian restaurant on Christopher Street with candles on the table and soft recorded music. Laura knew just what to order and what wine went with what food, and Jan admired her for this. Part of it was inevitable, of course; there are certain things one is more likely to learn in Westchester and in expensive schools than in Rushville and Indiana University.
But there was more to it than that. Laura always knew the right thing to do and the right words to say. They were not far apart in age, but Laura made Jan feel years younger in comparison.
Laura didn’t work. For awhile she had, but now her mother supported her. Once a month a check arrived in a plain envelope, with no letter to accompany it. Every month Laura deposited the check to her account and drew on it. She always spent less than she received and the account grew steadily.
“Won’t you ever work again?” Jan had asked.
“Why? She feels it’s her duty to support me and I’m perfectly willing to let her do her duty.”
When Laura said it the logic was clear. But now Jan wondered. It was easy — living on an allowance, never working and never worrying about money. But where was Laura headed? She would go on living the same life forever, never moving toward a concrete goal, never a part of anything larger than herself.
But that wasn’t quite it either. For, by the same token, that was the life she herself had selected. Her father was supporting her and she didn’t have the slightest intention of getting a job. She and Laura were limited — they weren’t cut out to be career women and they were obviously not about to get married. All they were equipped for was love, and unfortunately there wasn’t much money in love.
But was love enough?
It was. God, it was more than enough, more than the world. She could never doubt the importance or magnificence of it, not after the first night or Monday morning or Monday night or that morning. Not after the experience of waking up without feeling lost or alone, not after opening her eyes for the first time and knowing instantly who she was and where she was and what she was doing there. Not after turning in the bed and seeing Laura lying beside her, looking at her with love.
Not after those things.
Now it was Tuesday. They had been together for almost two glorious days.
She was sitting in the living room smoking a cigarette, wondering whether she should wait any longer before going to Laura’s apartment. She still wanted very much to be with Laura; at the same time she could use a few minutes more to relax by herself and get organized.
And she wanted to change her clothes. She had to dress differently as often as possible so that Laura could never tire of her and would go on wanting her and wanting to be with her forever. She stubbed out her cigarette in an ashtray and hurried to the bathroom, wondering what to wear.
Nothing too fancy, she decided. But nothing too casual either. Something just right, something that would suit her mood and the decor of the apartment.
Above all, something Laura would like.
She picked out a gold-colored paisley print outfit, the skirt flaring out in great splashes of color, while the low-cut blouse showed off her figure.
A few minutes later she was back again in the comfortable chair in the living room, smoking another cigarette and waiting for time to pass. She was going to be waiting for a lot of time to pass, she reflected. She wouldn’t go back to Indiana when the summer ended. She might stay in the Barrow Street apartment. If Ruthie wanted the place back she would move in with Laura. At any rate she would stay in New York, but she certainly had to find something to do or she would go stir-crazy.
Work was out for the time being. She could always take courses toward a master’s degree at NYU, but she didn’t want a master’s in the least and the thought of a classroom was not appealing. She ought to try writing again — the poetry she’d written at school hadn’t been too bad. Or drawing or painting, maybe. She wasn’t too great at either, but she wasn’t terrible and she could improve. At least she could be doing something and that was important.
Laura spent her time reading. Laura devoured books by the ton, buying them in carload lots from the bookstores on Fourth Avenue and churning through everything from sociology to ancient history, from economics to Chinese calligraphy. Laura talked about writing sometimes, but she said it as though it didn’t really matter very much one way or the other and Jan doubted that she would ever get around to it. But she was always busy, always doing something and always very intent upon what she was doing.
It was almost time. As soon as she finished the cigarette she would walk to Minetta Street and Laura’s apartment. They would talk first. Laura knew so much and understood so many things that there would always be new topics for them.
They would never have to spend their time the way so many girls like them did. Drinking at The Shadows. Sitting up nights at gay parties chattering and drinking and waiting to crawl into bed. As long as they had enough within themselves and within their relationship, everything would be perfect. The sad gay girls were the ones who were empty inside.
When the buzzer rang she pressed the answering buzzer automatically without pausing to wonder who it might be, her mind wrapped up in her thoughts. When there was a knock at the door she answered it without quite realizing that someone was coming to see her.
It was Mike.
For a moment she didn’t recognize him. She couldn’t understand what he was doing there. She had hardly thought of him since his last visit on Sunday and it seemed to her as though he should know by now that she wasn’t at all for him, that she had gone over the ridge into the darkness and that she did not need him at all.
“Did I give you enough time?”
“What?” She didn’t know what he was talking about.
“Enough time to think about it? I told you to take your time and I wondered whether you made up your mind yet or not.”