Strange Are the Ways of Love

10

The same song was playing on the jukebox. Dinah Washington was singing So Long again, her voice deep and sad, and Jan wondered if there were any happy songs on the jukebox in The Shadows, or if a Lesbian bar had to be sad by definition.

Someone must have played the song. Someone was sad, someone had just broken up with someone else. She scanned the room quickly, looking for Laura and simultaneously trying to pick out the girl who had played the record. All the girls she saw at first were seated in couples and she rejected them automatically. The girl who played So Long would be sitting alone.

Then she saw her. In the back in a corner booth the blonde called Peggy was sitting alone and drinking. Her head was lowered, her mouth inches from the rim of the glass that rested on the table. She looked even sadder than the song.

Jan was glad. She felt guilty being pleased about Peggy’s unhappiness, but it meant that the pair had broken up, that Laura was free now. She took a seat at an empty table, sitting at the far side so that she could watch the door without having to look at Peggy.

She ordered Scotch-and-water and toyed with it when it arrived, not wanting the drink and not needing it. She didn’t have to be drunk, not tonight.

The song on the jukebox didn’t match Jan’s mood at all. This was going to be a good night, and the background music should be good and light and happy, joyously and crazily happy. It was an evening for Hello rather than So Long.

The words of the song pounded against her ears. Two people promising to love each other forever. Was that the way it had been for Peggy? Had she expected it to last or had she been waiting all along, waiting for the break-up from the beginning? Did anything last? Would she and Laura last?

Or didn’t it matter? The moment mattered, the moment above everything, and she didn’t dare to start worrying about time or permanence or anything of the sort. The moment was all-important and it made her questions seem terribly trivial.

Just as the song ended the door swung open and Laura walked into the room.

She didn’t even stop to look around. She didn’t have to; it seemed as though she knew instinctively just where Jan would be sitting.

“Hello,” she said. Jan liked her voice. It was gentle without being weak, smooth without any slickness.

“Hello.”

“You’re Jan Marlowe. Is it short for Janice or Janet?”

“Janet.”

“I thought it would be. I’m Laura Dean.”

“I know.” She hadn’t known, not the last name, and she repeated it mentally. Laura Dean. It was a good name. She liked it.

Laura took a cigarette and tapped it twice on the table before lighting it. She ordered bourbon-and-soda when the waitress came and then lit her cigarette, extinguishing the match with a quick flick of her wrist.

“Jan,” she began, choosing her words carefully, “what are you doing here?”

“Don’t you know?”

“I think so. Tell me.”

Jan took a sip of her drink, searching for the right way to phrase what was in her mind. The same record began to play once again on the jukebox.

“I think I’m here for the same reason you are.”

“What’s the reason?”

The waitress brought the drink and left, but Laura left the glass untouched. She seemed tense, as if Jan’s answer was going to be extremely important to her.

“I came here to meet you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” she said, still unsure of herself. “Yes, you see I... I—” She broke off suddenly and took a deep breath, dragging the air into her lungs. She knew that she had to say exactly what she felt, that she could not wait any longer and that the words had to come now in a rush, no matter what was to happen afterwards.

“I want you,” she said. “I want you more than I ever wanted anything in my life. I wanted you the minute I saw you Friday night and even more last night and I thought about you all day. I think I’m in love with you.”

Silence.

And then, “God.”

And then, “Well, that was quick. Your next answer is important, Jan. Because I’m only going to ask you once and this is your last chance to back down. Are you sure?”

It was so perfect. She said, “I’m sure,” in a thin small girl voice and all the barriers dissolved. As her whole body relaxed she could sense the same relaxation passing through Laura.

For the first time she noticed what Laura was wearing. Laura had a dress on, and Jan was glad she had selected the knit for herself. Laura’s dress was a rich blue that contrasted radiantly with the red-brown of her hair. Laura was beautiful. Laura loved her.

Laura took two bills from her purse and put them on the table. “Let’s go,” she said. “This place is vile and we don’t have to stay here now, do we? You’ll come up to my apartment now, won’t you?”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, of course.”

“And leave your drink. They serve shellac here. I have better stuff at the apartment.”

“I won’t need anything.”

“No. No, neither will I.”

“I only drink when I’m lost or afraid or when I don’t have anything to do. I’m not lost now and I don’t feel afraid at all.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, Jan.” Her voice was a caress.

“I know.”

They stood up and walked to the door and out to the street. The last streaks of the sunset were fading into full darkness. There were stars.

At the foot of the steps Laura said, “I live on Minetta Street. Right around the corner.”

“I know.”

Then Laura took her hand — easily, naturally — and she wasn’t embarrassed in the least, not even with all the people milling around. She thought, You can stare at me. You can see who I’m with. I’m proud of it. And as they walked toward Laura’s apartment it was all quite perfect, all exactly as she wanted it to be.

The apartment matched Laura. That was Jan’s first impression, and the over-all effect of the place.

At once one major difference between Laura’s apartment and hers on Barrow Street was that hers — Ruthie’s, really — was not attempting to be a permanent affair. The furniture by and large had been there when Ruthie leased the apartment and would remain there after she left it. The additions she had made and whatever additions Jan would make would do little to change the fundamental nature of the place.

Laura’s apartment was different. It was easy to tell that it had been rented unfurnished and that each piece of furniture was purchased with an eye to developing permanent living quarters.

Nothing was out of place. No chair or table was in any way incongruous. Both apartments were about the same size, with kitchen, bedroom, living room and bath, but Laura’s appeared bigger and more intimate at once. The furniture was modern without being faddish or affected. There were several good prints on the walls in simple black wooden frames. A sofa near the window overlooking the courtyard was smartly black and white and at the same time it was comfortable.

Jan sat down on the sofa. Laura seated herself next to her, their bodies close but not touching. Awkwardly, Jan folded her hands in her lap, wanting Laura to hold them but not knowing how to bring that about without being awkward.

“Nothing to drink, Jan?”

“No thanks.” Should she have a drink? Was that part of the pattern?

“I don’t know just where to start, Laura said. “I suppose I should ask you about yourself and tell you about myself, but that wouldn’t make much sense. We don’t have to go through all that rigmarole, do we?”

“No.”

“That’s how I feel. I hate beginnings, so we’ll pretend this isn’t a beginning.”

“It isn’t, is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it’s a—” she hunted for the word — “a continuation, rather than a beginning. It all started days ago even if we haven’t been together before tonight. It started, before—”

Laura nodded. “Okay. Then let’s skip the beginning and get going in the middle.” She smiled and took one of Jan’s hands in hers, looking into her eyes.

“You’re very lovely, Jan.”

“Thank you.”

“You are. Your hair and your face—”

She started to say, “So are you,” but it seemed silly and clumsy and not the thing to say at all.

“Jan—”

“What?”

“Jan, this is a crude question but I’m a pretty crude gal sometimes. Have you been here before?”

“Here?” She looked around the apartment vaguely.

“Not here, idiot. I mean have you been with a girl before.”

“Oh—”

“Not well put, I admit. I’m not much of a poet, and if you want me to mind my own business—”

Jan smiled quickly. “I just didn’t understand. I don’t mind, Laura. I’ve never... been with a girl before, no.”

“I didn’t think you had.”

“And I thought you would know. Do you see what I mean? It’s not a beginning. We already know a lot about each other.”

“I know. Were you ever—”

“With a man? Once. It wasn’t good at all, Laura.”

“Just once?”

She nodded.

“When was that?”

“Over a year ago.”

“I see.”

She paused and looked away, and Jan wondered what was the matter. Didn’t Laura want her now?

Without looking at her Laura said, “Jan, it doesn’t have to be tonight.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I mean it could be tomorrow. Or the night after. Whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m ready tonight. You might not want me tomorrow.”

“Silly,” she said, grinning. “I’ll always want you, you little idiot. But maybe you want to sleep on it.”

She shook her head from side to side, her eyes wide open. “No,” she said, slowly. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep. If I went home now I’d lie awake all night. I love you, Laura.”

“God.”

And then, “I want to kiss you.”

She wants me, Jan thought. And she closed her eyes and raised her face to be kissed.

Laura’s lips pressed against hers and she was amazed that lips could be so soft, so wonderfully gentle. Instinctively she let her arms slip around Laura and drew the girl down to her. Laura kissed her again, more insistently this time, and Jan returned the kiss, loving the taste of Laura’s mouth on her mouth and the tenderly beautiful pressure of Laura’s breasts against her own.

“You’re so beautiful,” Laura was saying. “So beautiful. I love you, Jan.”

And they were kissing again. Jan moved her mouth against Laura’s with real passion now, a passion totally new to her. Her body was trembling with the sensations flowing through it and with the realization that the same sensations were happening to Laura, that each was loving and being loved.

“Jan.”

Laura spoke her name half in a whisper, half in a moan. Jan was unable to answer and only nodded.

“This way.”

Laura stood up, helping her from the couch and down the little hallway to the bedroom. Jan walked with her eyes open but saw nothing, her hand warm in Laura’s as she walked. She didn’t see the bedroom, didn’t see Laura close the door or turn off the light.

“Jan, I want to do everything for you tonight. This will be your night, darling. Stand very still now. I want to undress you.”

Laura released her hand and she stood alone in the darkness, feeling as though she were suspended in mid-air. Then she felt Laura’s hands on her body, just barely touching her, removing her clothing deftly and gently and urgently. The touch excited her and anticipation coursed through her body. Moments later she was naked and then Laura’s hands left her body and the sensation of suspension in air returned more strongly than before.

Catch me, she thought. I’m falling, but I’m falling so slowly that there’s plenty of time.

There were rustling sounds while Laura undressed. Then Laura was guiding her gently to the bed, pulling back the covers and settling her upon the cool bedsheet. Laura lay down beside her and their bodies touched and she gasped involuntarily.

Laura kissed her.

“Laura, I don’t know what to do! You have to tell me what to do!”

There, was a moment of near-silence while Laura caught her breath. “Shhhh,” she whispered. “Don’t do anything, darling. Just love me.”

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.