Women In The Shadow. Ann Bannon
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her college days and died with them less than a year later. The love she never could forget or forgive or wholly renounce. She had called Beebo “Beth” when they first met, and now and then when passion got the best of her, or whiskey, or nostalgia, Beth’s name would come to her lips like an old song. Beebo had grown to hate it. It was the only rival she knew for certain she had and it put her in the unreasonable position of being helplessly jealous of a girl she didn’t know and never would. Whenever she mentioned her, Laura knew there was a storm coming.
“If I could only see that goddamn girl sometime and know what I was up against!” she would shout, and Laura would have to pacify her one way or another. She would have to protest that after all, it was all over, Beth was married, and Beth had never even loved her. Not really. But when Laura grew the most unhappy with Beebo, the most restless and frustrated, she would start to call her Beth again when they made love. So Beebo feared the name as much as she disliked it. It was an evil omen in her life, as it was a love theme in Laura’s.
Laura turned back to face Beebo now, nervous and tensed for a fight. “Beebo, darling—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“Sure, I know. Darling.” She lampooned Laura’s soothing love word sarcastically. “You just pick that name out of a hat. For some screwy reason it just happens to be the same name all the time.”
“If you’re going to be like that I won’t apologize next time.”
“Next time! Are you planning on next time already? God!”
“Beebo, you know that’s all over—”
“I swear, Laura, sometimes I think you must have a girl somewhere.” Laura gasped indignantly, but Beebo went on, “I do! You talk about Beth, Beth, Beth so much I’m beginning to think she’s real. She’s my demon. She lives around the corner on Seventh Avenue somewhere and you sneak off and see her in the evenings when I work late and her husband is out.” Her voice was sharp and probing, like a needle in the hands of a nervous nurse.
“Beebo, I’ve never betrayed you! Never!”
Beebo didn’t really believe she had. But Laura had hurt her enough without betraying her and Beebo, who was not blind, could see that Laura would not go on forever in beautiful blamelessness.
“You will,” Beebo said briefly. They were the words of near despair.
Laura was suddenly full of pity. “Beebo, don’t make me hurt you,” she begged. She got on her knees and bent over Beebo. “I swear I’ve never touched another girl while we’ve lived together, and I never will.”
“You mean when you stumble on a tempting female one of these days you’ll just move out. You can always say, ‘I never cheated on Beebo while we lived together. I just got the hell out when I had a chance.’”
“Beebo, damn you, you’re impossible! You’re the one who’s saying all this! I don’t want to cheat, I don’t want to hurt you, I hate these ugly scenes!” She began to weep while she talked. “God, if you’re going to accuse me of something, accuse me of something real. Sometimes I think you’re getting a little crazy.”
Beebo clasped her around the waist then, her strong fingers digging painfully into Laura’s smooth flesh, and sobbed. They were hard sobs, painful as if each one were twisting her throat.
“Forgive me, forgive me,” she groaned. “Why do I do it? Why? Laura, my darling, my only love, tell me just once—you aren’t in love with anybody else, are you?”
No!” said Laura with the force of truth, resenting Beebo’s arms around her. She wanted to comfort her, yet she feared that Beebo would pounce on the gesture as a proof of love and force her into more lovemaking. Her hands rested awkwardly on Beebo’s shoulders.
“If you ever fall for anybody, Bo-peep, tell me. Tell me first, don’t spare me. Don’t wait till the breach is too wide to heal. Give me a chance. Let me know who it is, let me know how it happened. Don’t keep me wondering and agonizing over it. Anything would be better than lies and wondering. Promise you’ll tell me. Promise, love.”
She looked up at Laura now, shaking her so hard that Laura gasped. “Promise!” she said fiercely.
“All right,” Laura whispered, afraid of her.
“Say it.”
“I promise—to tell you—if I—oh, Beebo, please—”
“Go on, damn you!”
“If I ever fall—for somebody else.” Her voice was almost too weak to hear.
Beebo released her then and they both fell back on the bed, worn out. For a long time they lay awake, but neither would make a move toward the other or utter a word.
The next day Beebo awoke feeling that they had come closer to the edge of breaking up than ever before, and she could feel herself trembling all over. She got up before Laura was awake and, taking Nix with her into the kitchen, she poured herself a shot. She was ashamed of this new little habit she was acquiring. She hadn’t told anybody about it, not even Jack. Just one drink in the morning. Just one. Never more. It made her hands steady. It made the day look brighter and not quite so endless. It made her situation with Laura look hopeful.
She took the hot and satisfying amber liquid straight, letting it burn her tight throat and ease her. Then she washed out the shot glass and returned it to the shelf with the bottle.
“Nix,” she said softly to the little dog, “I’m a bad girl. Your Beebo is a wicked bitch, Nix. Do you think anybody cares? Do you think it matters? What the hell good is it to be a bad little girl if nobody notices you? What fun is it then? Shall I have another shot, Nix? Nobody’s looking.”
He whimpered a little, watching her with puddle-bright eyes, and made her laugh. “You care, don’t you, little dog?” She leaned down and picked him up. “You care, anyway. You’re telling me not to be an ass and let myself in for a lot of trouble. And you’re right. Absolutely.”
She sat down on a kitchen chair and sighed. “You know, if she loved me, Nix, I wouldn’t have to do it. You know that, don’t you? Sure you do. You’re the only one who does. Everybody else thinks I’m just turning into an old souse. But it’s not true. It’s because of Laura, you know that as well as I do. She makes me so miserable. She has my life in her hands, Nix.” She laughed a little. “You know, that’s kind of frightening. I wish I knew if she was on my side or not.”
There was a moment when she thought she would cry and she dumped Nix off her lap and quickly poured herself one more shot. It went down easier than number one, but she washed the shot glass out as before and put it and the bottle back on the shelf as if to tell herself: That’s all, that’s enough.
Beebo turned and smiled at Nix. “Now look at me,” she said. “I’m more sober than when I’m really sober. My hands have quit shaking. And I’m not going to quarrel with her when she gets up. I’m going to say something nice. Come here, dog. Help me think of something….
“I’d sell my soul to be an honest-to-God male. I could marry Laura! I could marry her. Give her my name. Give her kids … oh, wouldn’t that be lovely? So lovely….” Jack’s desire for a child didn’t seem grotesque to her at all anymore.
“But Nix,” she went on, and her face fell, “she wouldn’t have me. My baby is gay, like me. She wants a woman. Would God she wanted me. But a woman, all the same, She’d never take a man for a mate.”
She felt the vile tears sneaking up on her again and shook her head hard. “She couldn’t take that, Nix. It’d be even worse than—than living with me.” And she gave a hard laugh.
Beebo heard the bedroom door open and she dropped Nix and went to the icebox. Within moments Laura entered the kitchen.
“‘Morning,” she said.
“Good morning, Madam Queen. What’ll it be?”