“She loves me,” Jack explained to Burr and Marcie. Suddenly he left them all to dash into the middle of the street, waving his arms wildly at a pair of headlights that were bearing down on him. They screeched to a halt with an irate taxi driver behind them. Marcie gave a little scream and the driver leaned out and said, “You damn fool!” “You’d better get that punk home and give him some black coffee, lady,” he told Laura as they started uptown. “If you don’t mind a little advice.” “He’s going to hate himself tomorrow,” Marcie said. “He’s damn lucky he’s gonna be _around_ tomorrow,” said the cabbie. They all talked about him as if he were deaf. And in fact, he was, for he had fallen asleep almost as soon as he got into the cab. “Does he do this all the time?” Laura asked Burr. “He’s a great guy, Laura,” Burr said, as if trying to bolster Jack in Laura’s eyes. “He just flies off the handle now and then. I guess he’s got problems.” At the apartment Laura got out first. Burr said, “I’ll wake him up, Laura,” but she protested. “Just let him sleep,” she said. “I’d hate to interrupt his dreams.” “I heard that,” said a ragged voice from the shadows inside the car. “You’re a doll, Mother. Sleep well.” “Goodnight,” Laura said, smiling. Chapter Five She was under the covers and almost asleep when Marcie tiptoed in after bidding Burr goodnight. She moved around the room for a few minutes, getting ready for bed. Laura was just barely aware of her. After a little while she heard her turn the light off and cuddle the covers around herself. The silence, up above the city late at night, was deep, lulling, almost country-like. Only an occasional stray horn filtered up to their level. It sounded like a far-off echo. “Laura? Are you asleep?” Marcie whispered. “Yes.” “Oh.” She was quiet for a minute. Then she whispered, “I have to ask you something.” “Don’t marry him. It’ll never work.” “No, I don’t mean that. I mean—does it make you feel funny to see those people?” “What people?” “Queers?” “They aren’t queer, Marcie. That’s a cruel word.” Her eyes were wide open now in the dark. “What are they, then?” “Homosexuals.” She said it shyly. “That’s too long. Well, _does_ it make you feel funny?” “I don’t know what you mean, Marcie.” “Well, I mean like the butch in the ladies’ room. Didn’t she make you feel queer—I mean funny—” She laughed. “—looking at us like she was a man, or something?” “I guess so.” “She was looking at us when she was at the bar, too.” “She was?” Laura was amazed that Marcie would notice such a thing. “How do you know?” Marcie laughed again. “I was looking at her,” she said. “You what?” “Oh, not the way you think. I was just sort of looking around and she was looking at our table. I think she wanted to come up and talk to us but she didn’t dare with the boys there. She knew we weren’t gay.” “Is that what they call it—gay?”