Odd Girl Read Online Free Page A

revulsion, not even fear— just a nothing feeling that broke all illusions and put it blankly to her that somehow she must be different, immune to all men, even Mark.
    She decided not to sit and brood about this and picked up her white telephone. She would call Jacques; he was safe, possibly even gay. She wondered whether he knew women who were and if they were not all hideous-looking perverts.
    "Hi, stranger," she heard him say, "where have you been? Your folks have been hounding me."
    "I'm sorry," Anne said. "Want to come see my new place?"
    "Anytime," he said. "I'm free tonight so better hurry."
    "All right, tonight." Anne laughed.
    "The address please, and the telephone number.”
    Anne hesitated. "You won't give it out—"
    "Hell, no," he said.
    She paused for another moment, then laughed at herself. She couldn't go on being a recluse, not when she wanted her telephone to ring so badly. She gave him the number and the address and told him to give her an hour to get things tidy.
    The apartment grew real and each ashtray took on new purpose. Anne felt that the dream had passed and that she was alive, in a different world full of new things to do and think, free from parents and children's games. She gained new courage; she would call Beth.
    She dialed her number then waited, barely able to speak from the excitement that welled in her. Then Beth's voice, unaltered by the telephone, forced her to reply. "Beth? Hi."
    "Well, hi," Beth said. "We've missed you. Your Dad's been frantic."
    "I moved away from home," Anne said. "Want to come up and see my new apartment?"
    "Sure." Beth turned away from the receiver and said, "Hey, Mark—it's Anne."
    Anne's heart sank. So now Mark would know where she lived, too. She had hoped Beth was alone.
    "When do you want us over?" Beth said.
    "Tomorrow night?" Anne stammered. At least Beth would be with him. He would be easier to handle. And it was better if she did not see Beth alone. She knew somehow that it would be better.
    "Okay, around eight, but only for an hour," Beth laughed.
    Anne gave her the address and then too soon the conversation was over and the telephone receiver was down again, silent.
    Anne remembered Jacques and began putting away paint cans and underwear for his arrival, patting Portia as she went back and forth. She called the corner grocery and ordered beer and snacks. Then she sat down and waited.
    Jacques did not live very far away and he arrived soon, rang the doorbell eight times in rhythm and leaped two steps at a time up the five flights to where she stood in the hallway waiting.
    "Annie," he embraced her playfully, "so what are you doing living in the Village?"
    She gave a Sphinx smile and led him in, displaying her interior decoration. She had rearranged and spread the furniture with new cloth so that it had lost its middle-class look and her sketches hung on the walls reflected the sublet's new tenant.
    "What you can do with nothing," he whistled.
    "Beer or what?" she asked, efficiently going to the refrigerator.
    "The 'or what,' " he said. She poured scotch in a kitchen glass for him and then came back to sit on the day couch.
    "Boy, what a location," he said, "straight across from The Oval."
    "The Oval?" Anne was puzzled. "What's so special about it?"
    Jacques flipped. "Don't you notice?" It was amusing to watch him. He took pride in being effeminate and the whole cast was used to it.
    "No, seriously," Anne said. "Is that a queer place too?"
    "For butches," he nodded. "Strictly rough trade." He sat back and looked at her. "You've changed. What's happened to you? Why the sudden move?"
    Anne paused for a moment, fingering her beer can, then looked directly at him. "Can I be frank with you?"
    He nodded, returning her glance and leaned forward.
    "I had to move," she continued, "because I think— somehow I know—that I'm queer." She looked at him and waited. He paused for a moment then laughed heartily.
    "Welcome to the club."
    Now they both laughed, Anne