Part 14 (1/2)

At any rate, I'm glad that Algernon is no longer alone.

June 23-Late last night the sound of laughter in the hallway and a tapping on my door. It was Fay and a man.

”Hi, Charlie,” she giggled as she saw me. ”Leroy, meet Charlie. He's my across-the-hall neighbor. A wonderful artist. He does sculpture with a living element.”

Leroy caught hold of her and kept her from b.u.mping into the wall. He looked at me nervously and mumbled a greeting.

”Met Leroy at the Stardust Ballroom,” she explained. ”He's a terrific dancer.” She started into her apartment and then pulled him back. ”Hey,” she giggled, ”why don't we invite Charlie over for a drink and make it a party?”

Leroy didn't think it was a good idea.

I managed an apology and pulled away. Behind my closed door, I heard them laughing their way into her apartment, and though I tried to read, the pictures kept forcing their way into my mind: a big white bed ... white cool sheets and the two of them in each other's arms.

I wanted to phone Alice, but I didn't. Why torment myself? I couldn't even visualize Alice's face. I could picture Fay, dressed or undressed, at will, with her crisp blue eyes and her blonde hair braided and coiled around her head like a crown. Fay was clear, but Alice was wrapped in mist.

About an hour later I heard shouting from Fay's apartment, then her scream and the sound of things being thrown, but as I started out of bed to see if she needed help, I heard the door slam-Leroy cursing as he left. Then, a few minutes afterward, I heard a tapping on my living room window. It was open, and Fay slipped in and sat on the ledge, a black silk kimono revealing lovely legs.

”Hi,” she whispered, ”got a cigareet?”

I handed her one and she slipped down from the window ledge to the couch. ”Whew!” she sighed, ”I can usually take care of myself, but there's one type that's so hungry it's all you can do to hold them off.”

”Oh,” I said, ”you brought him up here to hold him off.”

She caught my tone and looked up sharply. ”You don't approve?”

”Who am I to disapprove? But if you pick up a guy in a public dance hall you've got to expect advances. He had the right to make a pa.s.s at you.”

She shook her head. ”I go to the Stardust Ballroom because I like to dance, and I don't see that because I let a guy bring me home I've got to go to bed with him. You don't think I went to bed with him, do you?”

My image of the two of them in each other's arms popped like soap bubbles.

”Now if you were the guy,” she said, ”it would be different.”

”What is that supposed to mean?”

”Just what it sounds like. If you asked me, I'd go to bed with you.”

I tried to keep my composure. ”Thanks,” I said. ”I'll keep that in mind. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

”Charlie, I can't figure you out. Most men like me or not, and I know it right away. But you seem afraid of me. You're not a h.o.m.os.e.xual, are you?”

”h.e.l.l, no!”

”I mean you don't have to hide it from me if you are, because then we could be just good friends. But I'd have to know.”

”I'm not a h.o.m.os.e.xual. Tonight, when you went into your place with that guy, I wished it was me.”

She leaned forward and the kimono open at the neck revealed her bosom. She slipped her arms around me, waiting for me to do something. I knew what was expected of me, and I told myself there was no reason not to. I had the feeling there would be no panic now-not with her. After all, I wasn't the one making the advances. And she was different from any woman I'd ever met before. Perhaps she was right for me at this emotional level.

I slipped my arms around her.

”That's different,” she cooed. ”I was beginning to think you didn't care.”

”I care,” I whispered, kissing her throat. But as I did it, I saw the two of us, as if I were a third person standing in the doorway. I was watching a man and woman in each other's arms. But seeing myself that way, from a distance, left me unresponsive. There was no panic, it was true, but there was also no excitement-no desire.

”Your place or mine?” she asked.

”Wait a minute.”

”What's the matter?”

”Maybe we'd better not. I don't feel well this evening.”

She looked at me wonderingly. ”Is there anything else?...Anything you want me to do?...I don't mind...”

”No, that's not it,” I said sharply. ”I just don't feel well tonight.” I was curious about the ways she had of getting a man excited, but this was no time to start experimenting. The solution to my problem lay elsewhere.

I didn't know what else to say to her. I wished she'd go away, but I didn't want to tell her to go. She was studying me, and then finally she said, ”Look, do you mind if I spend the night here?”

”Why?”

She shrugged. ”I like you. I don't know. Leroy might come back. Lots of reasons. If you don't want me to...”

She caught me off guard again. I might have found a dozen excuses to get rid of her, but I gave in.

”Got any gin?” she asked.

”No, I don't drink much.”

”I've got some in my place. I'll bring it over.” Before I could stop her she was out the window and a few minutes later she returned with a bottle about two-thirds full, and a lemon. She took two gla.s.ses from my kitchen and poured some gin into each. ”Here,” she said, ”this'll make you feel better. It'll take the starch out of those straight lines. That's what's bugging you. Everything is too neat and straight and you're all boxed in. Like Algernon in his sculpture there.”

I wasn't going to at first, but I felt so lousy that I figured why not. It couldn't make things any worse, and it might possibly dull the feeling that I was watching myself through eyes that didn't understand what I was doing.

She got me drunk.

I remember the first drink, and getting into bed, and her slipping in beside me with the bottle in her hand. And that was all until this afternoon when I got up with a hangover.

She was still asleep, face to the wall, her pillow bunched up under her neck. On the night table beside the ash tray overflowing with crushed b.u.t.ts stood the empty bottle, but the last thing I remembered before the curtain came down was watching myself take the second drink.

She stretched and rolled toward me-nude. I moved back and fell out of bed. I grabbed a blanket to wrap around myself.

”Hi,” she yawned. ”You know what I want to do one of these days?”

”What?”