Chapter Twenty-One
It was as if all her life was being renewed when Marilyn saw the sun the next day. They dropped her off at her apartment-Tina waved the camera threateningly at her and said if she opened her mouth on the naked truth of what took place she would see to it that the pictures of her would be distributed into the right hands.
"So you better start changing the melody in your articles from now on," Tina warned.
She swallowed hard and hurried to her room. She stared at herself with the slightest smile in the mirror of the bathroom. She had had a quiet glory. At least she was still alive. That was all that mattered. It was a big advantage over cadavers, she mused. She was tired and bruised and she took a hasty shower and set her hair. She glanced at the clock. The girls were clever. They wanted no disappearance act on Marilyn staying away from the paper even a moment. She still had time to get to the office.
She thought back. Hers was a fundamental kind of chicanery. She had plotted against Lou and now the cart had reversed directions. Most people do things in life this way-in different ways and for different reasons. She stared at herself with a fixed smile. But she must have struck a travel sticker somewhere on her plans and aroused the foe. She wondered if Lou was behind it all.
When she was finished she poured herself a cup of coffee and sat silently for a while. She thought within herself. The experience had been totally unbearable. She gasped and rushed breatliless in a little stumble toward the window. She opened it and leaned out. She inhaled deeply. When she resumed her coffee she felt better. In some strange way she still possessed a determined ardor-an intense awareness that she needed the strength of a man.
She knew what can happen to a woman who is loveless-and the dilemma was so explosive it couldn't even penetrate her rational thinking. She knew she was still a very pretty, desirable creature and she was stretching out a ridiculous thing that would never happen. She went back to the mirror and stared at herself. Then she smiled and broke the mood. No-that would be too far-fetched. Besides, there was still Lou.
She called Lou into her office in the late afternoon. He looked at her as if she were a cold, unimportant thing.
"Lou," she said, "I have to go back home. My father is deathly ill. I can't finish the series. I spoke to the chief and he said for me to fill you in on everything and run the balance of it under your own name."
Lou knew she was trying to change-always changing-trying to paint over something-when the outline was difficult. Now he sat on the corner of her desk and stared down at her.
"Really?" he said, smiling wistfully at her. "When did you speak to him?"
"A couple of hours ago."
Lou's face tightened. "My dear, dear Marilyn," he said, "Only five minutes ago I told the chief I was resigning and leaving town. For good."
The girl stiffened. Something that belonged inside of her was departing. A large space in her life was being erased. She stood up. "You're kidding, Lou, tell me you're not serious?"
"I'm serious."
Suddenly a part of Lou was padlocked from her.
"What has happened, Lou? Where are you going?" she demanded.
"One at a time, Marilyn-one at a time. First, I'm getting married. Then I'm going to Chicago. I've got a good editorial post with the main paper there. I think I'll like it-."
She cocked her head sideways. "Did you say married?"
He laughed. "I did."
Her eyes spread like an ink-blot. "To whom?"
She saw him suddenly so desperately-a man with shape and boundary and his limits belonged to her. Louis looked at her with boredom.
"To Lora," he said quietly.
Her face was bathed in incredible disbelief. "Now, how in the world did you get that black character, Lou? You really are joking, aren't you?"
His eyes squinted hard at her from his upturned face.
"We're all pretty colorful characters, aren't we, Marilyn? You're white-I'm white-she's black. You think I'm tangled up, don't you?" he wanted to know. She started to stutter. He went on, "Just people-all of us-some bathed in a fraudulent halo of color-the negro the second banana of the human burlesque hopelessly trying to pinch an opening ... squeezed out everywhere like a tube of toothpaste....
He paused and looked daggers at her. Her eyes glowed like an incandescent lamp.
"Quite a booster, aren't you, for such a small payload like Lora?" she asked.
Now he was angry. "Cut the crap, Marilyn. You need a lifeline to reality," he said.
She turned around and walked behind the desk.
"If you can't beat them-marry them, huh, Lou?"
His eyes blazed. "You could have the common decency," he shouted, "to at least wish me luck."
He could see her ashen face, but she forced a smile.
"Of course, I will, Lou, of course I will." And she walked over and threw her arms suddenly about his neck and kissed him hard on his protesting lips. He untwisted her arms and set her apart.
"Thanks, Marilyn, but I wasn't referring to that kind of luck. But I'm sure you mean well."
She stared at him quietly. For months she had been so close to him-as if he had been her suction cup and now the romantic umbilical cord had become a link torn from her past. Now she was just the other woman-a female filing cabinet to store her memories. He had always been there in her life-waiting ... waiting. Something she could depend on. Then her thinking concentrated on immediate survival. If Lou couldn't do the column, who would? She could hardly afford to remain and complete the series after what she had been through.
In the last twenty-four hours she had been pointed, ungeared, twisted, pushed almost to depravity. And now where was she going? If she left what would she have to come back to having deserted a series before completion. Where to-what next? The impact was enormous and she must talk about it.
Her eyes suddenly roamed pleadingly.
"Lou-you must help me. I can't finish the column," she said.
The idea smelled to him like wet army blankets.
"Get another serf to do your dirty work, Marilyn."
She begged. "Nobody but you can handle it-you're completely familiar with the subject." Her eyes dropped. "You know that Tina girl real well, Lou, don't you?" she asked shyly.
He stared at her with a quick burst of pain. "Yes, I know her very well. And stop pretending and dishing out the innuendos. I know what you know-so we're even. But I'm equally through with her ... for good."
"You stupid, bitch newspaperman," she shouted, "how long do you think you'll last on your new job if I let it get around that you joined those girls in their private pad while you were on the job?" She stood waiting, breathlessly. "Tell me, Lou, how long?" she demanded.
He forced a cool smile to brush back his anger. Marilyn laughed acidly. Lou lit a cigarette and appraised her firmly. He was suddenly in the stiffling gloom of a lousy situation. She could ruin him on his new job and even smash his chance at marriage if he lost the Chicago job.
"All right, Marilyn, all right," he said gravely. "I'll finish it out for you in the next two days. But I want you to know that your whole life has been a he-bred on more lies and more lies until nothing is dear to you. You're lower than a mediocrity." He walked from the office.
Marilyn smiled when he left. She had arranged a lucky escape for herself. Now she could leave town for a few days and let Lou handle the lethal balance of the story.