CHAPTER 10

The days that followed were the happiest of their life together. Angie behaved like an angel, rushing home from work to cook dinner, being affectionate, attentive and kind. Not for an instant did she give Carolyn reason to doubt her sincerity.

Carolyn tried at first to maintain a clear perspective. But holding Angie close at night, feeling her respond with the fervor of a bride, she soon turned a deaf ear to experience. She found herself completely beguiled, as she had been at the start of their relationship. When Angie asked her on Wednesday not to see Walter again, Carolyn flatly refused. But by bedtime Thursday, she had made the promise.

It took Carolyn the better part of Friday to get up the courage to call Walter. She had been awake most of the night, planning what she should say. She knew that nothing she said would matter, really. Walter would still be deeply hurt. He didn't deserve that from her after all they had meant to each other. He would probably tell her as much.

And she knew that it was shame as much as concern for his feelings that kept her from calling. Still, she had promised.

She was painfully aware that she hadn't been fair to Walter all week, since he had proposed. She had seen him every night and never once had she mentioned her reconciliation with Angie. Partly it was purely selfish. In the beginning she had been afraid that it might not last and she would need him to help her put the pieces back together. But partly it was something else. She knew that he would be disappointed in her, that he would not understand how she could go back after all that Angie had done.

She had tried sincerely to give Walter an equal chance. He had still made no attempt to approach her as a lover, but she had not really expected him to. She had known he would take things slowly. She enjoyed his company and their evenings were pleasant. Not exciting, not thrilling, but pleasant.

Still, when he brought her home, she found that she was almost glad to see him go. For Angie was waiting, already in bed, soft and sweet and willing. And when five o'clock came and she had to get up, they had sometimes not slept at all.

She could not tell Walter these things, could not even tell him that she needed sexual gratification. It wasn't something to talk about, like politics. It was something you felt and acted upon.

Yet she would have to tell him something.

The more she thought about it, the less sorry she felt that she had promised Angie she would not see him again.

She still loved him as a friend, she always would. But he no longer thought of her that way. He took for granted that she belonged to him. But she had chosen to belong to Angie. She knew that if she continued seeing him, it would simply make it more difficult for him later.

She deviled herself with the problem all afternoon. Finally, after she had fouled up an experiment she had been working on for three months, she gave up and went to the phone.

She reached him at his office. He did not seem at all surprised to hear from her, though she almost never called him at work. He even seemed to know what she was going to say. He listened without interrupting while she told him she had gone back to Angie.

When she had finished, he said simply, "So I won't be seeing you anymore." There was no hint of his feelings, just the plain statement of fact.

He waited for her to answer and when she didn't, went on. "Only one comment, Carolyn. I think this whole business with Angie is pretty stupid, as you know. But it's not up to me to tell you how to live. You've just made that perfectly clear. I only hope you get out of it before it's too late."

She heard the click as he hung up on her. She stood for a long while staring at the phone. Then she put down the receiver and went back to the lab. Very calmly, she cleared away the mess she'd left on her table and prepared to begin the experiment again.

She had expected him to say more. She knew she was a little disappointed that he had not yelled at her and told her how he really felt. It would have eased her conscience.

After work, she drove directly to Brooklyn for. her usual evening with the folks. She had promised Angie that she would be home by ten and throughout dinner she was nervous and withdrawn, glancing often at her watch. When her father suggested poker at a neighbor's, Carolyn hesitated for just a second, then begged off with a headache.

Seeing the disappointment in her father's eyes, she felt a flash of guilt, but she had made her choice and she stuck by it.

It was barely eight thirty when the Renault charged through the Battery Tunnel into Manhattan.

 

On a whim, she turned off the highway at Fourteenth Street and drove crosstown to a dingy East Side street. In a cellar shop, smelly with fried onions and bubbling grease in deep vats, she waited while a man in a filthy apron finished drinking a beer.

He came forward, wiping the foam off his mouth onto a hairy arm. "Yeah?"

"Fish 'n' chips," she said. "Large."

He took a section of newspaper and rolled it into a long cone. With a tin ladle, he scooped bits of greasy fish and puffy french fries out of one of the vats.

She dropped coins on the counter and took the cone, carefully tucking in the corners to keep the contents warm.

When she reached the car, the paper was already glazed and drippy with grease. She found Kleenex in her purse, spread it on the back seat and laid the cone on it gently.

Hummmg and happy, she proceeded uptown. She had never before felt as she had the past few days. Something inside her knew that it could not last forever. But she ignored the little voice. Her love for Angie was blind. When she had spoken to Walter on the phone that afternoon, he had called it stupid as well. She knew she had hurt him deeply. Just as she had hurt her parents. But there was nothing she wouldn't do now to keep the girl happy. Her parents would forgive her. So would Walter, in time, But if she lost Angie, she would never forgive herself.

She parked on Columbus Avenue, half a block from home. Almost running, she turned in at the driveway. She saw instantly that the tenth floor apartment directly above the lobby was dark. She counted up the rows of windows to be sure.

Feeling fear reach out to grip at her heart, she ran into the house. Surely there would be a note, some kind of explanation.

As she came out of the elevator, Carolyn heard Bridgit scratching at the inside of the apartment door. It was not a friendly sound. She recognized the symptom. The cat had not been fed. It was Angie's job to feed it every Friday night.

Cautiously she inched open the door. Bridgit's nose appeared in the crack.

"You silly animal," Carolyn said, grabbing the cat as it tried to squeeze out. She picked the cat up and it swatted at the paper cone. She pulled it out of Bridgit's reach. "You're as bad as Angie," she scolded. "Always trying to sneak away behind my back."

She frowned as she heard the words come out of her, not yet willing to admit that Angie was gone. Switching on lights as she went, clutching the paper cone in one hand and the cat under her arm, she stalked through the apartment, seeking some token of the girl.

There was nothing, not even the usual morning mess. Everything was neat, tidy, almost pristine. As this peculiar fact dawned on her, Carolyn became increasingly sure of something that bothered her more. Angie had obviously not gone to work that morning. Though she switched jobs often, it was Angie's special point of pride that she was never absent. And if she had stayed home, what had she done? Where had she gone?

Bridgit, by now half delirious with the odor of grease and fish, took another swat at the package and clawed Carolyn across the back of the hand. Startled, Carolyn loosened her grip. The cat leaped away from her and fled into the kitchen.

Slowly, miserably, Carolyn sank down on the edge of the couch, holding the cone clenched between her hands like a shy suitor's bouquet. It was not easy for her to admit that she had done this thing to herself. Yet this time she could not really blame Angie. She had known what Angie was, had learned not to trust her. And she had deliberately allowed herself to be blinded to the truth by her desire for the girl.

She no longer even thought of it as love.

It was not pity she felt for herself but, finally, contempt. She heard the cat noisily pushing her empty plate across the kitchen floor. She could hardly expect the animal to realize that the bottom had just fallen out of her world. Still, the sound annoyed her. It only compounded her guilt. Lately she had been ignoring all the important things, like Bridgit, her parents, Walter. And for what? For Angie? Because the girl loved her so?

It was too late now to go back and start over. She had already done the damage.

But maybe—

She shoved herself off the couch. In the kitchen she dumped the paper cone into the garbage bag and rinsed out Bridgit's dish. The cat crouched on top of the refrigerator, watching her open a can of cat food.

Carolyn squatted beside the dish and spoke gently to the cat, luring it down to the floor. She picked up a wad of cat food on her fingertips and held it out.

 

Bridgit eyed her suspiciously, then, rubbing hunchbacked along the wall, moved in on the food. Carolyn kept her arm perfectly still for the first mouthful. On the second, she held her hand closer to her body.

By the time the plate was empty, the cat was sitting on Carolyn's foot and pushing its head against her legs. She held it for a moment and stroked it. The cat began to purr.

"I'm glad you're easy to please," Carolyn murmured. "That was good for my morale."

Unemotionally then, she considered what she had to do. Another scene with Angie would be ridiculous. Angie would neither listen to nor understand her now any more than she had in the past. And things would wind up just as they had before. She understood now that she did not really love the girl, that she no longer even desired her. But Angie would never believe it. If anybody was going to leave, she would have to do it herself.

She went into the bedroom and dragged down two valises and opened them on the floor. Most everything she could leave behind. She would not need souvenirs to remind her. She could stay with her parents for a while. Maybe find a new place. Maybe marry Walter, if he would still have her. Whatever happened, so long as Angie was not involved, it would be good. She smiled, enjoying the rosy future stretched out ahead of her.

It wouldn't be all pleasure, she was aware of that. And at times she would even miss the girl. In between the miseries, there had been moments of bliss. She would not forget them, she didn't want to. But with Angie, one never dared think of the future. The girl had never known what she wanted, from life, from a lover, even from herself. She lived, not a day at a time, but a moment. Without Angie, there was hope.

Whistling, she went quickly about the business of sorting, packing some things, discarding others. She did not pause over pictures or theater programs or even the pressed rose from their anniversary. As she moved through the apartment, Bridgit hugged her heels, as though to make sure she would not be left behind.

Carolyn was thankful now that she had not let Angie force her to get rid of the cat. They'd fought about it more than once. Yet Carolyn had known from the beginning that Bridgit would still be there long after Angie had gone. And it amused her to know that Bridgit would be as happy as she to be rid of the girl.

She had no idea how long she had been working, but when she stopped to make herself a cup of tea, it was already past midnight.

Coming back into the livingroom, she was surprised to see Bridgit suddenly scoot away from her and run to hide behind a leg of the couch. Alerted, she strained to hear any sound from the hall or outside.

Quite clearly, Angie's high pitched, nervous laugh drifted up from the parking lot. Carolyn watched the cat's back arch and the hackles rise along its spine.

She set the cup down on the table and crossed quickly to stand at the edge of the window, hidden behind the curtain. Carefully she pulled aside the yellow burlap and peered out. Below, spotlighted in the hazy glow of a street lamp, was Angie. She stood with her back to the house, watching Jimmy jot something into a small notebook.

Realizing she would not be noticed, Carolyn pushed out the window as far as it would go and leaned over the sill.

She saw Jimmy snap the notebook shut and drop it into the side pocket of his jacket. He appeared to be angry.

Abruptly, he made a movement to leave. Angie called him back.

Then Carolyn watched Angie turn on the charm, luring Jimmy as she had so often lured Carolyn herself. It was almost pathetic, watching Angie from a distance, knowing exactly what she would do next. And she knew that Jimmy, like herself in the past, didn't stand a chance.

Jimmy stood aloof, legs spread, head high, as Angie moved in. The girl stepped close to him, gazing up into his eyes, her hands sliding up the backs of his arms. Carolyn could almost hear the cooing voice. Imperceptibly almost, he began to lean forward like a flower drawn to the sun, till Angie was in his arms.

Carolyn watched Angie move in still closer, rubbing herself against him. His hands gripped Angie's buttocks. He lifted her off her feet and they clung in a tight embrace.

Carolyn had seen enough. She backed away from the window, her fists clenched at her sides.

She remembered this morning, before she got out of bed, how Angie had grabbed her and held her. Even remembering, she felt a shudder of desire go through her. The girl had been more passionate than ever, eager in her love making, demanding fulfillment again and again.

Priming herself, Carolyn thought, for Jimmy.

Surely the girl had made arrangements ahead of time. She knew Angie too well to believe that she had stayed out of work on a whim, on the chance that she might be able to see him, Angie didn't work that way. She planned her deceits well in advance. She had probably made the date with him last weekend, before she had talked Carolyn into letting her stay.

 

That's what hurt the most, knowing that Angie had used her all week to get herself worked up for Jimmy. She couldn't blame him. He didn't know what was going on. But it was a sure thing that Angie did, every inch of the way. If she hadn't been blinded by her own desire, Carolyn could have figured out why Angie had been so attentive.

The girl had probably failed miserably in her first attempt with Jimmy. It took a lot to get her aroused and he didn't look like he would waste time on preliminaries. This time, Angie had let Carolyn take care of that. A simple arrangement, to Angie's mind, and probably a successful one.

She stood for a long moment, staring blindly, hearing the sound of Angie's cooing voice, whispering lies of love.

Once she had believed her. She had always wanted to. Now she could only wonder if Angie ever had loved her, really. Or had she always been merely used?

She shook herself free of the mood. She should probably thank Angie for what she had just seen, rather than hate her. For it was the final blow to Carolyn's ego and, she knew, probably the one that would save her life. She could not possibly be tempted to take Angie back again. And one problem that had often bothered her had finally been resolved: she knew that she had not failed with Angie. Angie had been lost from the start.

She turned and walked quickly into the bedroom, shut and fastened the valises. One at a time, she carried them into the livingroom. Finally she got Bridgit's carrying case out of the hall closet and set it on the floor. She called gently to the cat.

It was always an ordeal, getting Bridgit into the case. She unzipped the flap of the opening and let it hang. On all fours, she crawled toward the cat, calling it softly, clicking her fingers. Bridgit backed away from her along the wall till she had trapped herself in a corner. Carolyn lunged. Bridgit ducked under her outstretched hand and ran for the closet.

"Damn!" Carolyn breathed, standing up and brushing lint from the rug off her skirt. She turned toward the closet and found herself staring into Angie's icy blue eyes.

Carolyn hesitated only long enough to take a deep breath. Then she took a determined step forward. Angie moved to block the hall.

Carolyn didn't stop. "Excuse me," she said, squeezing past the girl. "I have to catch Bridgit."

Angie stood aside. She watched Carolyn grab Bridgit by the scruff and lift her out of the closet. She did not say a word but the pointed toe of her shoe began to tap out her irritation.

Shoving the cat inside the case, Carolyn pulled the flap up quickly and zipped it shut. "There," she said, aloud but to herself. "We're all set."

Angie spoke with deadly calm. "Are you going somewhere, Carol?"

"Yes. I'm going to Brooklyn," Carolyn said lightly. "Why?"

Angie ignored the question. "You were just there," she said. "What's the idea?"

Carolyn picked up the carrying case and started toward the hall door. "I love my family," she said.

Stepping quickly in front of her, Angie put her hand on Carolyn's arm. "Stop being funny," she said. "Where do you think you're going?"

Carolyn shrugged off Angie's hand. "I told you," she said. "Brooklyn." She set the case just inside the door and started back for a valise.

Angie breathed an exaggerated sigh. "All right," she said. "If that's what you want..."

Carolyn felt her temper snap. "Oh, just shut up, will you?" she flared. "You've put me through the treatment for the last time, Angie. It won't work anymore. So don't waste your breath."

Angie smirked and Carolyn could have killed her. But she knew instantly that, in a sense, Angie was right. As long as she was angry and not indifferent, she remained wide open to Angie's mode of attack.

She had not let Angie trap her that way for a long time and she didn't intend to have it happen now. She had found out a long time ago that she could not cope with Angie when she was angry. And Angie knew it, too. She would provoke Carolyn deliberately, then gradually wear her down.

She felt the anger fizzle and die. Even now Angie was getting the better of her. If she wanted out of this business alive, Carolyn knew she had better get hold of herself fast. She glanced quickly at the girl. Angie was watching her narrowly, waiting for her to make a move. It felt almost as though the girl were daring her to do something. Carolyn laughed to herself, keenly aware now of Angie's method and prepared to beat her at her own game.

Instead of picking up the valise, she sat down into one of the sling chairs and calmly lit a cigarette.

 

Angie watched her restlessly.

"If you'll just sit down for a minute," Carolyn said, "I’ll give you the vital details."

She watched the play of emotion in Angie's eyes, the curiosity, the smugness, the contempt. In a way, she couldn't blame the girl for what she felt. She had certainly let Angie make a fool of her often enough. But this time it was going to be different. She had never been so calm nor so sure of herself. Nothing Angie could do would touch her.

When Angie had settled herself on the couch, Carolyn went on. "The rent's due on the first," she said. "I left you the agent's address. And I would appreciate it if you would forward my mail. I'm expecting..."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Angie screamed. "I can't pay the rent on this place. Are you crazy?" Her eyes were wide, her face contorted with rage and frustration.

Carolyn smiled. "Not anymore, Angie. Anyway, I've been trying to get you out of here for quite a while and, for some reason, you never wanted to leave. So I figured I might just as well let you have it." She winked. "Besides, I'm sure Jimmy will be glad to help."

"Oh, God! You're such a bore sometimes," Angie said in a voice calculated to kill. "How can you be jealous of a man, Carol? Don't you understand that Jimmy has nothing to do with us?"

Carolyn raised her eyebrows. "You have a strange set of values, old girl."

"Why? It makes sense, doesn't it? You can love a woman and live with her. Just like we have. But you can't marry her and have children. That takes a man." She gestured impatiently. "It just isn't the same thing at all. I don't know why you can't see it."

Sadly, Carolyn shook her head. "All I can say is, I'm glad, frankly, that I couldn't marry you. Then look what a mess I'd be in." She stood up and stubbed out her cigarette. "Well, that's it, Angie. I'm sure you can take care of yourself without any help from me."

She walked to the valise and bent to pick it up.

Suddenly the cushion off the couch hit her squarely in the back of the head. Off balance, she jerked forward and grabbed at the valise for support. Leaning heavily on one knee, she swore silently and waited till she got control of herself before facing Angie.

"You asked for that!" Angie screamed. "You're a bitch, walking out on me like that. You're a bitch!"

Fists clenched at her sides, Carolyn approached her slowly, stalking her down as she had done with the cat. Like Bridgit, Angie backed away.

"Angie, it's time you learned a lesson," Carolyn said quietly. "I'm tired of you pushing me around."

When Angie reached the corner, she knew she was trapped. She began to panic. Angie, in panic, always got sly.

Carolyn could almost hear the wheels clicking in Angle's head, she knew her so well. And, finally, she understood how to stop the girl completely.

As Angie advanced, Carolyn deliberately allowed herself to be wooed by the crooning voice, the pleading eyes. She let Angie move them out of the corner, into the center of the room.

"You know it's you I love," Angie murmured. "Always."

Carolyn listened but did not speak.

"I was just saying goodbye to Jimmy. Like you promised to do with Walter. I thought you'd want me to. That's all, Carol. Saying goodbye."

Carolyn felt the couch against the backs of her knees and braced herself for the final play.

"Baby, haven't I been good to you? Haven't we been happy all week?"

This time, as Angie's hands moved to caress her, Carolyn felt no response. There was neither pleasure nor pain in Angie's touch. Angie's hands were only hands, no longer needles pricking her with desire. She closed her eyes in secret relief and joy.

Angie, taking her lowered eyelids to signal the final bursting of passion, pushed Carolyn gently onto the couch and began the ritual of seduction. Knowing her weaknesses, she used Carolyn's body expertly, tickling her neck with her tongue and fondling her breasts.

 

Carolyn did not even pretend to be aroused. She didn't have to. Angie was so positive of her power that she did not need to be encouraged. Carolyn opened her eyes just wide enough to see the triumph on Angie's face. Then, as the girl's mouth lowered to meet her own, she laughed, hard and cruelly.

Shocked, Angie sat upright and stared at her.

"I have news for you," Carolyn said lightly. "It didn't work this time."

She watched the shock become sickness as the girl's composure disintegrated. She did not know what demon she had unleashed in Angie's mind, but she knew with brutal certainty that she had done more damage than she realized. She felt the perspiration break out across her back and her hands trembled, yet she did not reach out to comfort the girl. She simply stared at her, horrified at what she had done, knowing it was already too late to help Angie.

Angie opened her mouth and tried to speak but the sounds that came out were not words. They were shrill squeaks, cries of pain like a dog makes when its tail gets stepped on. And then she was beating on Carolyn's arms and head and shoulders with her fists, crying, screaming hysterically, wanting to kill.

Carolyn twisted away from her toward the edge of the couch, covering her head with her arms. As she rolled, Angie shoved her and she pitched off the couch. Her head hit the floor. For a second she was too numb to move.

She heard Bridgit cry out in terror as Angie kicked the carrying case out of the way. The hall door slammed. Then there was silence.

Carolyn got to her feet slowly, blinking, rubbing her shoulder where it had crashed into the coffeetable. Every muscle ached. She felt like she had been beaten with a club. Still dazed, she stood looking at the closed door, angry, wanting to hit back. The scene on the couch came to her. As she remembered the wild, wild look in Angie’s eyes, she felt the terror growing inside her. She started after the girl.

She stopped just long enough to right Bridgit's upturned prison and open the flap. Then she banged out into the hall.

The elevator door slid shut in her face. She watched the numbers click through the dial. Going down. Stopping at one.

She breathed a sigh of relief. At least Angie wasn't going to throw herself off the roof. But still… She went back inside for the keys to the car.