“I don’t know how,” Marcie said impatiently. “If I knew I could help myself. There must be something in life besides fights, Laur.” “Don’t call me Laur.” Marcie looked at her in surprise. “Why not?” “Somebody else used to call me that. It still hurts a little.” “I’m sorry. I remember, you told me about him.” Laura felt confession working itself urgently into her thoughts. She wanted to clasp Marcie to her and say, “Not ‘him’. Her. _Her._ It was a girl I loved. As I love you.” _No, not as I love you. I can’t love you that way, not even you._ To her sudden disgust the face of a handsome arrogant girl named Beebo came up in her mind. She frowned at her, trying not to see. “What’s the matter, Laur? Laura?” Marcie smoothed Laura’s hair off her hot forehead. “You must have loved him a lot.” In a sudden convulsion of desire, Laura threw her arms around Marcie, pressing her hard, tight, in her arms. Her need was terrible, and a sort of sob, half ache and half passion, came out of her. Marcie was frightened. “Laura!” she said, pushing at her. Laura was always so docile; now suddenly she was strange and violent. “Laura, are you all right?” Laura only clung to her the harder, wrestling against herself with all her strength. For a moment, Marcie tried to calm her, whispering soothingly and rubbing her back a little. But this only aggravated Laura. “Marcie, don’t!” she said sharply. Panic began to well up in her. “Oh, God!” she cried, and stood up abruptly, shaking all over. She covered her face with her hands, trying to force the tears back with them. Marcie watched her, astonished, from the bed. With a little gasp Laura turned and ran out. Marcie rose to her feet and called after her, but it was too late. She heard the front door slam as she ran toward it. She pulled it open but Laura was in the elevator a floor below her and on her way out. Marcie stared into the black stairwell, feeling shocked and confused. She slipped back into the apartment and into her bed, but she couldn’t sleep. She simply sat there, her eyes wide and staring, oscillating between a fear of something she couldn’t name and bewildered sympathy for Laura. For whatever it was that tortured her. She shivered every time she thought of Laura’s near-hysterical embrace, returning to it again and again. It gave her a reckless kick, a hint of shameless fun, like the night she kissed the bum in the park. She didn’t know why it recalled that to her mind. But it did. Laura had scared her; yet now she felt like giggling. * * * * *