The Cellar was not very crowded when Laura walked in at eight o’clock. By a quarter to nine, when Beebo got there, the place had filled up a little and the juke box was going. Dutton, the sketch artist, was making a few bucks with the tourists. There was a tableful of them in one corner that he was working on. Beebo sat down at the bar and began to josh the bartender. She didn’t see Laura, and Laura’s heart was pounding so high in her chest that she was afraid to go near Beebo. She didn’t know what to say. She was sickeningly afraid of a rebuff, and she hung back in a sweat. She deserved a rebuttal, but she was afraid she couldn’t take it.
She watched Beebo for a while, her face shaded slightly as she leaned away from the bar lights. She let the heads of the people next to her serve as a sort of cover behind which she could dodge when Beebo glanced her way.
For a while she was tortured to see Beebo chatting with other women; young pretty girls, like the two high-schoolers Laura had met with her one night.
Beebo was tired. She had two drinks and then she meant to go home. But she was detained by a boy who ran an antique shop a block from her apartment, who was a friend. They talked about nothing in particular, just glad to talk with somebody for a while. Beebo was slightly surprised when Dutton came up and handed her one of his sheets of drawing paper. Beebo took it with a wry little grin. “I knew you’d get around to me sooner or later, Dutton,” she said. “I’m part of the décor in this joint. Let’s see.” She studied the caricature. “I hate to admit it, but it’s good. Does my chin stick out like that?”
Dutton grinned. “Take it from me,” he said.
Beebo eyed him. “You don’t think you’re going to get a buck out of me for this, do you?” she said, waving it under his nose.
“I’ve got my buck, friend,” Dutton said, holding a folded bill up between his thumb and index finger. He smiled and pushed the sketch back at her. “It’s yours,” he said. “Keep it.”
Beebo studied him a moment, frowning, and then she looked up and down the bar.
“If you don’t like it,” Laura said softly in her ear, “just tear it up. I can’t complain.”
Beebo turned on the bar stool to find Laura standing close behind her. They gazed at each other in silence for a moment. Then Beebo tore the sketch once across the long way and once the short, still watching Laura. And dropped the pieces on the floor. Laura looked at her, trembling. Beebo turned back to the bar and finished her drink at one swallow. Then she said to the boy beside her, “See you, Daisy.” And she got up and left the bar.
For a moment, Laura thought she would die where she stood. And then she followed Beebo, walking twenty feet behind her, her heart working hard and making her gasp a little. Beebo walked out into the night, and Laura followed her, coming just a little closer, until she was about five feet behind her. Beebo walked on, slowly, without glancing back, without hurrying her pace. They walked for two full blocks like this, and across the street into a third.
And then Beebo stopped. Startled and scared, Laura stopped where she was, on the curb, with the street light illuminating her silver blonde hair and leaving her face in the shadow.
Slowly Beebo turned around. She looked at Laura. She dropped the cigarette in her hand and crushed it under her heel. For some moments they just stood there and gazed at each other. A man walked by, and then a couple. Then the street was empty.
Finally Laura said, in a whisper that carried clearly to Beebo’s heart, “I love you, Beebo. Darling, I love you.”
Beebo walked over to her, still moving very slowly, until they stood together in the pool of light just inches from each other. The dawn of a smile showed on her face.
“Little bitch,” she said softly. “Laura ... Laura....” She leaned down then, tipping Laura’s face up to hers, “I can’t hate you any more,” she said. “I’ve given up. There’s nothing left but love.” And she kissed her. Their arms went around each other suddenly, hard, and they stood there in the lamplight, kissing.
Then they turned and walked into the night toward Cordelia Street.
This text was transcribed from the unchanged reprint edition in the collection HOMOSEXUALITY. Lesbians and Gay Men in Society, History and Literature, Arno Press: New York, 1975. Materials from a later date than the original publication year 1959, such as series title, editorial information, or publisher advertisements, have been omitted.
New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain.
The original spelling was mostly preserved. A few obvious typographical and punctuation errors as well as variations in hyphenation were silently amended. All other changes are shown here (before/after):
: ... walk with the victory over the little man. God, if I could ... ... walk and with the victory over the little man. God, if I could ...
:
... “No, no call tonight.” ...
... “No, no, call tonight.” ...
: ... another two blocks. Laura walked if she were drunk. She ... ... another two blocks. Laura walked as if she were drunk. She ...
: ... things. He did ask if you called in, through. He asked ... ... things. He did ask if you called in, though. He asked ...
: ... “Don’t lie to my any more, Laura. It makes me sick. I ... ... “Don’t lie to me any more, Laura. It makes me sick. I ...
: ... quite, “I swear to you by God and Heaven and everything ... ... quiet, “I swear to you by God and Heaven and everything ...
: ... at once swallow. Then she said to the boy beside her, “See ... ... at one swallow. Then she said to the boy beside her, “See ...
