I Am A Woman

“I don’t want to talk to him.”

“Don’t be silly. Talk to him.”

Unwillingly Laura took the phone, sitting on the bed beside Marcie. She was so conscious of Marcie’s body stretched out there beside her that she had trouble concentrating on Jack.

He said, “Mother, I’ve been an ass.”

“I know.”

“Forgive me.”

“You’re forgiven,” she said. “Now go to bed. Good night.”

“But I am in bed,” he said. He was still pronouncing each word with elaborate care. “My question is this—did you really mean it?”

“Mean what?” said Laura, looking at the faint moonlit curve of Marcie’s leg.

“I’d swear you said you loved me,” he said.

“You were dreaming.”

“Do you?”

“No. Jack, please go to bed. Let me go.”

“If I went any more to bed than I already am, Mother—and don’t think that was easy to say, because it wasn’t—I don’t know where I’d be. Say you love me.”

“No. Jack, it’s late. I’m tired.”

“Tomorrow is Saturday. You can sleep.”

“I don’t care what tomorrow is, I’m tired right now. Now good night.”

“Do something for me, Mother.”

Marcie turned over, lying across her pillow on her stomach.

“What?” Laura said softly, losing contact with him.

“Promise.”

“Okay.” She whispered it.

“Kiss Marcie for me.”

“What?” Laura was shocked into total awareness.

“Good night, Mother,” Jack said. And hung up.

Laura replaced the receiver and sat uncertainly on the bed next to Marcie for a minute. She didn’t dare to wonder what Jack meant. She had enough to do just keeping her hands off Marcie’s smooth behind. She felt afraid of her.

What would Beth have done if it had been me lying there? she wondered, and knew at once. Beth would have laid down on top of her, her front to Marcie’s back. Beth would have kissed her neck, her ears, her shoulders. Beth would have—

“Laura,” Marcie murmured.

“Yes?” Her throat was dry, making it hard to answer.

“We’d better get to sleep.”

It was all over, then. Laura had waited too long. Maybe Marcie would have repulsed her anyway. Maybe her hesitation had saved her. On the other hand, maybe—Laura burned to know. But Marcie had lost the playful, childish, experimental mood, and was already half asleep. There might never be another chance.

Chapter Six

At work on Monday Laura’s phone rang halfway through the morning. “Doctors Hollingsworth, Carstens, and Hagstrom,” she said, business like. What a mouthful! she thought to herself.

Her listener apparently had the same idea. “Jesus, what a tongue-twister,” he said. “What happened to Smith?”

“There is no Dr. Smith,” she said, taken aback.

“Oh, don’t be so damn formal, Mother. It’s not like you. I thought I’d better apologize while I’m sober. I was drunk the last time.”

“I know. How are you, Jack?” She smiled at the thought of his face.

“Bored. But healthy. I didn’t mean to fall asleep in your face Friday night.”

“It’s okay. Forget it.”

“Just for that I’ll give you a free ticket to see my analyst. He’s a great guy. He needs you.”

“He needs me?”

“Have you got fifty bucks a week to spend on your salvation?”

“I haven’t got fifty bucks a week to spend on my groceries,” she said.

“Well, I guess he doesn’t need you as much as I thought. But I’d be glad to stake you to your first session. After that it becomes habitual. You crave it. You’ll find the money somehow.”

Laura was laughing. “Give it to Marcie, not me,” she said. “She’s the one who loves to talk.”

“You do some pretty good talking yourself.”

“I do?”

“You got lyrical in defense of oddballs Friday night.”

“I did not! Let’s not go into that again anyway,” she said. “Look, Jack, I’d like to talk to you, but—”

“I know, you’re at work. So am I. Don’t you ever get tired of work?”

“I’m on probation here. If I don’t do well they’ll fire me in June.”

“So your poor virtuous hardworking little life revolves around that office.”

“Now you’re being an ass again.”

“I’m telling you, Laura, you’d make a good soap opera. So would the rest of us. We’re all a bunch of nuts in a million nutsy little soap operas. Will Burr marry Marcie? Will Jack take the pledge? Will Laura stick it out till June? Tune in tomorrow. We won’t have the answer for you, but we’ll sell you soap like all hell. Do you know why people buy soap?”

“To wash themselves.”

“No. They like to play with themselves in the bathtub.”

Laura had to laugh at him. “You fool,” she said. “Jack, I can’t talk to you, honestly.”

“Okay. I’ll call back.”

“No, no, call tonight.”

“But I want to see you tonight.”

She was unaware that she might have impressed him on their date, and he took her by surprise. “You do?”

“Well, don’t sound so damn shocked. You’re a nice girl even if you are ten feet tall. I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.”

“No, I can’t, Jack.”

“Okay, eight.”

“I’m busy.”

“The hell you are.”

“I am.”

“You lie! I have an instinct about these things. Eight sharp.”

All at once Laura became aware of another voice calling her. “Laura?” It was Dr. Hollingsworth. He was standing over her desk and she looked up suddenly like a scared little kid.

“Yes, sir?” she said. She hung up without even saying good-bye to Jack.

Jack Mann was not a pushy type. On the contrary, he was rather shy, although it rarely showed. He went to parties and hid behind a stream of wisecracks. He did the same thing on dates. He did it with anyone and everyone. It was a sort of defense mechanism, a way of hiding his real self, and he had done it for so many years that by now it was second nature. Even people who knew him fairly well, like Burr and Marcie, never saw beneath this facade of witticism. They thought that was Jack: all funny asides and not much serious straight talk. It was hard to take him seriously. He didn’t want that. He wanted to be laughed at, to be amusing, and he usually contrived to be. He was content to let people take him for a wag.

But once in a while he ran across somebody who made him feel sick of the mask he hid behind. Somebody who made him yearn to talk, quietly and seriously, about the things that mattered to him. It happened when he was unlucky enough to fall in love. Or when he met a loner like himself and felt an unspoken sympathy. It happened with Laura.

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