been married at all, and I’d never—well, never mind what I did. She won’t let me do it anymore.”
“Burr, you’re really repulsive,” Marcie said, shaking her head at him.
“Am I?” He smiled at her.
“You know you are. Laura doesn’t want to hear about that. Do you, Laura?”
“I think I’d better get to bed,” Laura said.
“That’s a good girl,” Burr said approvingly. “Always knows when to cut out. Laura, we’re going to get along fine.”
“Don’t go, Laura!” Marcie ordered her.
Laura, halfway to the bedroom, stopped.
“Scram!” said Burr. As she shut the door behind her he added, “Sweet dreams, Laura. You’re a doll.”
Laura shut the door on them as he took Marcie, still resisting, in his arms. She walked uncertainly around the bedroom for a few minutes. It occurred to her that Burr would be grateful for the use of the bedroom, but Marcie would never forgive her for suggesting it. Laura ran a bath—it took fifteen minutes to get enough water to sit in—and sat contemplatively in it, wondering what her roommate was doing in the kitchen. She tried not to think of it. But when a thing revolted her it stuck stubbornly in her head and tormented her deeply.
Laura climbed out of the tub and dried herself, looking in the mirror as she did so. She had never liked the looks of herself very well. It still amazed her to think that this slim white body of hers, this tall, slightly awkward, firm-fleshed body, had been desirable to someone once. She studied herself. She was not remarkable. She was not lush and ripe and sweet-scented. On the contrary, she was firm and flat everywhere, with long limbs and fine bones. Her pale hair hung long over her shoulders, and bangs framed her brow.
I am certainly not beautiful, she thought consciously to herself. And yet I have been loved. I have loved.
She gazed at herself for a moment more and the ghosts of old kisses sent shivers down her limbs. Then she rubbed herself briskly with the towel and put her pajamas on.
That’s over now, she said to herself. That happened a million years ago. I’m not the same Laura anymore. I can’t—I won’t love like that again. I’ll work, I’ll read, I’ll travel. Some people aren’t made for love. Even when they find it, it’s wrong. I’m one of those.
She picked up a book she had been reading—one of Burr’s—and climbed into bed. There was a small lamp between the beds and she switched it on, drawing her knees up for a book rest. The covers formed a tent over her legs.
For a long while she sat and read about the mixups of other people, the people in the book. Then she closed it and put it on the bedside table. She turned the light off, but still she didn’t lie down. She simply sat there in the dark, listening … listening … and heard nothing. She put her head back, resting, thinking about them in the other room, hating her thoughts but unable to shake them. After a while she slept, still sitting half-upright.
Much later, muscle cramps woke her up and forced her to lie down. She noticed that the light under the kitchen door was out. She pulled the covers over her shoulders, wondering what time it was. In a moment, all was silence again.
“Laura?” It was Marcie, whispering.
Laura sat up with a start. “Yes? Marcie, are you all right?”
“I’m all right.”
“Is he gone?”
“Yes. For the time being.”
“Oh. What time is it?”
“About three.”
“You shouldn’t stay up so late. You have to go to work in the morning.”
There was a little silence.
“Laura?”
“Yes?”
“Were you ever in love?”
Laura felt a terrible wave of emotion come up in her throat. What a damnable time, what a damnable way, to ask such a question! She was defenseless against her feeling in the soft black night, with the soft voice of a lovely girl asking her, “Were you ever in love?” For a while she tried to keep her mouth clamped shut. But Marcie asked her again and she was undone.
“Were you, Laura?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“What was it like?”
“Oh, God, Marcie—it was so long ago—it was so complicated. I don’t know what it was like.”
“Was it good?”
“It was awful.”
Marcie turned over in bed at this, raising herself on her elbows. “Wasn’t it good sometimes? Now and then?”
“Now and then—” Laura whispered, “it was paradise. But most of the time it was hell.”
“Did—did he love you? As much, I mean?”
Laura pressed her hands to her mouth, not trusting herself for a minute. Then she whispered, “No.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Marcie’s voice was warm with sympathy. “Men are such bastards, aren’t they?”
“Yes. They are.”
After a moment of thought Marcie said, “Burr likes you.”
“I’m glad.” She couldn’t stand to talk anymore. “Good night, Marcie.”
“Good night, Laura.” Marcie sounded a little disappointed. But she said nothing more and in a minute Laura heard her roll over and fall asleep. Laura did not sleep again that night.
If Laura and Marcie went along together on greased wheels, Marcie and Burr did nothing of the kind. There was never anything real to argue about. But Burr couldn’t pick up a book or clear his throat or make a suggestion without causing a disagreement. And he was as quick to snap at his ex-wife. The only times they weren’t shouting at each other, they were kissing each other.
“You probably wonder why we keep seeing each other when we fight like this,” Marcie said to her one night.
“Do you love each other?”
“I don’t know—Yes.”
“Then I guess it doesn’t matter if you fight.”
“I hope it doesn’t drive you nuts.”
“No, not at all.” Laura wouldn’t even look up from her book. Marcie embarrassed her with these
