Everything would be all right. The shop was nonsense, adolescent nonsense, and she could live without such dreams. She was what she was-there was no changing that. No reason to inquire into it too closely. She was what she was and she would lead the kind of life that was right for her. It might not be a perfect life but very few lives were ever perfect. The world itself was an imperfect world. She would make the best of it. That was all she or anyone else could do.
Then Megan was talking to her. “I’m glad you and Bobbie could come tonight, Rhoda.”
“It’s a swell party.”
“Like the song, what a swell party this is. You haven’t been here since-”
“No, I haven’t.”
“I was thinking about that. Jan and I are very happy together, did you know that? I never thought it would last.”
“I’m happy for you.”
“Maybe the secret is not living together. I don’t know. How are things with you and Bobbie?”
“Fine. They were a little rocky for awhile, but we’ve weathered that storm. We’re good for each other.”
“I’m glad, Rhoda.”
She got herself a fresh drink. The usual crowd was there, with a sprinkling of less familiar faces. She sipped her drink and looked over at the door. Lucia Perry was there, with Roz Merrimac. Lu was telling everyone that Peg hadn’t felt well but that she decided to come over for a few minutes anyway. Someone said something that Rhoda didn’t catch. A few minutes later she saw Roz and Lucia dancing cheek to cheek, their feet barely moving.
She looked for Bobbie. “Somebody ought to take Lu and spank her,” Bobbie said.
“I thought-”
“Uh-huh. Peg’s probably sitting home crying her eyes out. Roz broke off with Helen Rainey less than a week ago, and Lu’s back to her old tricks. I guess nothing ever changes.”
“I guess not. But in public.”
“That’s the whole thing.” Bobbie sighed. “If she wants to sleep around, that’s her business. And Peg’s probably used to it by now, so she can train herself to look the other way. But Lu has to rub her nose in it. It’s typical. I don’t know how Peg stands it.”
She remembered the night-the phone call, the cab ride, the moment of stark horror when Peg came from the locked bathroom with blood gushing from her wrists. She shivered and drank her drink.
They were outside, Bobbie started to flag a cab but Rhoda stopped her. “I’m a little rocky,” she said. “Let’s walk it.”
They walked. She remembered another walk two weeks ago, when they had bumped into Ed Vance. New Year’s-and a hell of a way to start the New Year. She hadn’t seen him since then, and she wondered who he had told about her and what they had said. But what difference did it make? It was her life, and she no longer cared who knew about it.
Home, in bed, she turned expectantly to Bobbie. She felt Bobbie’s lips on her lips, Bobbie’s breasts just touching her own breasts. Then Bobbie was smiling softly in the darkness, whispering, “Not tonight, sweets. We’re both too tired to do much. Get some sleep.”
That night, for the first time in ages, the dream came back to her. The old dream, the one that had always ruined her sleep in the past. In it she ran once more, ran alone down that endless hallway with some dark unknown chasing her and gaining on her. Walls of ivory white, unbroken by windows or doors. An endless ribbon of black floor beneath her feet The hallway getting progressively narrower, and the pursuer getting closer and closer, and the feeling, at last, of something colder than death reaching out for her, almost but not quite touching her When the telephone rang, her mind incorporated the sound into the dream, weaving it into the fabric of her nightmare so that she thought there was shrill screaming behind her. Then the dream broke off and she was struggling to sit up in bed, and the phone was ringing and Bobbie, by her side, was groping for it. Bobbie took hold of the receiver and Rhoda shook off the dying echoes of the dream and lit the bedside lamp. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was twenty minutes of five.
Bobbie said, “Oh, God. Omigod.”
“What-”
“Are you sure? Listen, are you sure?”
She went to Bobbie, took the girl’s arm. Bobbie shook her off. Bobbie was talking on the phone but Rhoda couldn’t hear her. She didn’t know what was happening. She looked for a cigarette but the pack on the bedside table was empty. She crushed it, hurried into the kitchen. There was one pack left in the carton. She tore it open, shook two cigarettes out of the pack, lit them. She went back to the bedroom and gave one of the cigarettes to Bobbie. The Siamese cat sat erect upon a chair at the side of the bed, his eyes glinting brightly. Bobbie took the cigarette and looked oddly at it, then took a deep drag.
“What-”
“That was Lucia,” Bobbie said.
“Oh, no.”
Bobbie swallowed. Then she took a deep breath and when she spoke her voice was firm, strong. “Peg did it this time,” she said. “Pills again, a whole bottle. After the party Lu and Roz went back to Roz’s apartment and Lucia just got home. If she had gone straight home from the party she might have found her in time, but she didn’t, and that’s all, she was too late. Peggy’s dead.”
“Oh, Jesus-”
“Yeah.” Bobbie closed her eyes. The room was very still. Claude held his pose on the chair like a statue. “I can’t believe it, I knew it would happen sooner or later. But I still can’t believe it. All the times she tried to kill herself and this time she managed it, finally.”
Bobbie looked at her now. Her face was a mask of sorrow but her eyes were quite dry. “Everything’s so rotten,” she said. “So goddamned rotten, everything.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
She hadn’t realized it would be that easy. In the morning, when she left the apartment and went to work, she took off the plain gold wedding band Bobbie had given her and slipped it into her purse. In the early afternoon a man came into the store to buy a present for his sister, a birthday present. She smiled warmly at him, and when she showed him some possible gifts she let her fingers brush his hand. She felt his eyes on her face, her body. After the sale was concluded, he lingered in the shop, talking to her. She handled the conversation easily. It wasn’t long before he asked her name and told her his. Wasn’t long before he asked her to have dinner with him that evening.
“I’d like that,” she said.
“Where can I pick you up? At your apartment?”
“Fine.” She gave him the address. He wrote it down in a small black book and returned the book to his breast pocket. He smiled at her and said he would see her then. She smiled back at him.
So very simple, she thought. All you had to do was make it obvious that you were interested and available. The men did the rest. There was nothing to it, nothing at all.
When he was gone, she opened her purse and replaced the plain gold wedding band upon her finger.
Bobbie was out of town. Peg Brandt was a Chicago girl and her body had been shipped home to her family for burial. Bobbie and Lucia and a few of the other girls who had known Peg very well had gone to Chicago for the funeral. At first Rhoda had wanted to go. Bobbie talked her out of it.
“You don’t have to go,” she said. “You didn’t know her that long or that well. And it would probably be best to keep the New York contingent to a minimum. Peg’s folks know about her, but they might feel that it would be in bad taste for a whole army of lesbians to show up for the funeral.”
She felt badly about it at first. She had liked Peg, and she felt wrong missing the funeral. But what Bobbie said made sense.
The funeral was that afternoon. Bobbie would be staying overnight, returning on a morning plane. Rhoda had the evening to herself.
She would be spending it with a man.
It was an odd decision, one she did not fully understand even now. When the idea first came to her that she ought to do this, there had been an element of compulsion in the notion, as though it was something which had to be undertaken for its own sake with no rhyme or reason involved. The impulse had sprung up as soon as she realized that the opportunity itself was there, as soon as she realized that Bobbie would be gone for an evening. She had thought, automatically and spontaneously, that she could use that time to be with a man.