Chapter 13
Jo Ann slumped down into a chair, stunned. Laura hadn't raised a ringer to her. She didn't have to. The slap had been verbal. "Get out and stay out!" It was as simple as that. And now, as Jo Ann shook with uncontrollable fury, Laura lay on the sofa, peacefully sleeping off her hangover.
It doesn't matter if she is hung over, Jo Ann told herself again and again. Laura knew exactly what she was saying. And she had meant every word. Facts were facts. And Jo Ann was out on her own again.
The glaring sunlight seemed more oppressive than ever. Jo Ann hurried to the windows and drew the shades. She didn't want to see the world outside. It didn't care about her. She didn't matter ... to anybody. And if she could help it, in the future nobody was going to matter to her.
Laura rolled over in her sleep and muttered something incomprehensible. Jo Ann glanced over at the reclining figure and sneered. Some lover, she thought. Some friend. Laura had turned out to be as bad as Stan. And they both stank.
She had to get away. Jo Ann reached for her coat and picked up some change from the table. She had no idea where she was going, except that it was out of that apartment and far from that woman.
The creaky stairs seemed to laugh at her as Jo Ann raced down toward the street. Her brain was a jumble and she tried not to think. Laura had told her so many things ... made so many unsubstantiated accusations. Jo Ann still couldn't understand them all. Perhaps she never would, she told herself as she rushed out onto the sidewalk and hurried toward the corner.
Washington Square Park was crowded with mothers and baby carriages when Jo Ann arrived. Strolling beneath the naked branches of trees, she moved to the most secluded area and sat down on an empty bench. A dull ache had begun to pound over her temples. And as she glanced around at the families walking along the paths, she felt more than ever that she didn't belong.
"That's the way the gay life is," Laura had said. Her words still rang in Jo Ann's ears. She had hardly even attempted to defend her actions with Leslie. Laura had just skimmed over the situation in her rage concerning Cooky's solicited attentions.
She had tried to explain, Jo Ann remembered. Honestly tried to tell Laura that nothing was going on ... that they were just dancing and that, if she hadn't been left alone, Cooky would never have approached her.
But Laura wouldn't listen. Her misplaced rage about Stan had been completely transferred to Cooky's amorous advances. Nothing Jo Ann could say made any impression on Laura. And finally, she had just stopped trying.
So now what, Jo Ann asked herself. The alternatives weren't very inviting. She could either go back and try to smooth things over with Stan or see what Cooky had to offer. Both possibilities were equally repulsive. No, she would have to come up with something better, Jo Ann told herself. Something that wouldn't make her feel like the slut Laura had called her.
The word still stung. Maybe there had been some truth in it, Jo Ann admitted sadly. She couldn't deny that she had been living with Laura mostly because she had no place else to go. She didn't love the woman and never had. There were no delusions along those lines. She had needed Laura. Needed her to fill the void that Stan's exit had left. And now Laura was gone, too. What next?
A creeping sense of annoyance spread through Jo Ann and made her shiver. How could she have been so naive as to think that anybody else could take care of her, if she couldn't take care of herself? That anybody else could respect her when she felt totally worthless?
The answer suddenly dawned. The prospect wasn't pleasant, but that didn't make it any the less necessary. She would have to set herself up all over again. On her own, this time. Really on her own. With no dependency on anybody who wasn't worthy of her attentions.
The idea of beginning again without friends, in a new job and a new apartment, propelled Jo Ann to her feet. Without thinking about where she was going, she left the park and began to walk. As one step followed another, she tried to conjure up the image of herself as an independent individual ... a woman capable of supporting herself, watching out for herself, and inspiring the respect of others.
A shattering wave of doubt gripped her. Jo Ann stopped for a red light and wondered if she was just kidding herself all over again. What made her think that she was capable of overcoming the past? Where did she get the nerve to think that the very thing that had come between herself and Stan ... that uncontrollable fear that had forced her out toward Central Park and set her up for that attack ... would melt away just because she would have it so? The fact still remained that when it came to men, Jo Ann was frigid.
The added awareness made her stomach lurch beneath her jacket. Jo Ann crossed the street, walking slowly now. Was it true that she was meant for a life where only women could satisfy her? Were the rest of her days predestined to be an endless voyage from one woman's bed to another? Until she wound up like Laura, unable to trust any woman at all.
There was only one way to find out.
The apartment was still quiet when Jo Ann got back. Reaching into the closet for her one suitcase, she glanced at Laura's slumbering figure and wondered if she should leave her a note. Not necessary, Jo Ann decided. Laura couldn't understand. No point in adding any further confusion to the mess.
As quickly as she could, Jo Ann packed her suitcase and snapped the locks closed. In her wallet, her salary check remained uncashed. It was enough for a down payment on a nice apartment. The rest of the rent she would provide for when the time came. But all by herself.
Bidding a silent and unsentimental farewell to Greenwich Village, Jo Ann lugged her valise onto the Fifth Avenue bus and settled herself for the ride uptown. At Forty-Second Street, she got off and began to walk toward Grand Central Station.
The sound of the trains reached Jo Ann's ears and made her pause. Luggage in hand, she listened to the chug of the wheels and wondered if there was a train headed in the direction of her home.
Cut that out, she told herself angrily and moved on. Her home was wherever she chose to make it. There was no reason to go running back to Bootesburg, Jo Ann assured herself. She would survive in New York after all. Or drop dead trying.
The little gold key to the locker compartment clinked as Jo Ann dropped it into her purse. Returning the friendly smile of a young sailor, she turned and looked for the nearest news stand. She could feel the boy's eyes on the back of her skirt, but now Jo Ann didn't mind. In fact, she was pleased. Despite what she had gone through, it didn't show. Men still wanted her. The only question was, would she ever want them?
Forcing that problem from her mind, Jo Ann walked over to a rack and pulled out a copy of the New York Times. It was as though she had gone back a year in time, she thought, dropping a dime in the vendor's hand and moving away. There she was again, looking for a place to stay. Green and fresh and full of hope for a bright Manhattan future. Only this time, she knew a hell of a lot more about the big city and its people.
The classified ads went on for pages and Jo Ann plodded through each of them carefully. When she had checked off the most attractive offers, she changed a dollar bill and carried her dimes to a phone booth.
The one room apartment on West Seventy-Fourth Street was bright and cheerful, despite the fact that it was below street level. Jo Ann stood beside the landlord, hardly hearing his praises, as she looked the place over and waited for him to give her a price.
The red and white checked cafe curtains billowed in the breeze and Jo Ann hoped she could afford to live there. The studio couch that opened into a double bed needed a new cover, she noticed. But she decided that she could make one herself. And enjoy doing it.
"Eighty dollars," the man said. "And that's my last price."
"Seventy-five." Jo Ann hoped she sounded as independent as she wanted to become. "Will you sign a lease."
"For how long."
"Two years."
Jo Ann hesitated. Two years seemed like such a long time. But then, she asked herself, where was she going?
The door closed softly and Jo Ann sat down in a chair in the first apartment that was ever really her own. She sighed happily and slipped one shoe off with the toe of the other. Without having to coax it, she felt her body beginning to relax. And she knew then that this place was soon going to feel like home.