Tell Me if the Lovers Are Losers

  Hildy shook her head, mute.

  “You can fool yourself. You can fool Annie here and all the rest, and even her,” Niki’s head jabbed toward Miss Dennis. “You can’t fool me. I wish you could, but you can’t.

  “The truth is that it doesn’t matter how you get what you want as long as you’re safe from society and the law. What I want is a chance to get even for some of the things society does, and the law does. Before they blow us all up. Nobody will care how I got it, once I’ve got it. And I did not break the rules.”

  Niki stood up again, above Hildy, and she spread her hands apart. “That’s the way it is, Hildy. I’m sorry, because that’s not the way you want it to be. I’m sorry because you’re—I like you. I admire you. But that’s the way it is. You can’t beat me on this one.”

  It was Niki who had tears in her eyes.

  “If we can return to the particular event,” Miss Dennis said, “and I think we should . . .” Ann and Hildy nodded their heads. Niki’s face was immobile. “Let me tell you what I see as justice in this matter The paper, Miss Jones’s paper, is safe.”

  Ann understood that and her heart flooded with relief.

  “Miss Jones,” the Munchkin went on, “is not.”

  Ann’s sense of security vanished. She waited for Miss Dennis to say more.

  But the woman had no more to say.

  “What should she do?” Hildy asked.

  “Should isn’t in question. You heard her,” Niki said. “What I will do is—nothing. That’s it. It’s over.”

  Hildy stood up, taller than Niki. “You do not care about being right. You think to win is to be right.”

  “That’s not fair, Hildy. It’s not even true,” Ann protested.

  “I see that now,” Hildy continued, as if Ann had not spoken. “Miss Dennis?”

  “I cannot argue it with you, Miss Koenig.”

  “Why not? You must make me see.”

  “I can’t. I have made my decision, under the rules. It is a correct decision and I will stand by it.”

  “Hildy,” Ann asked, “if I don’t mind, why should you?”

  “It is not for you and me to mind,” Hildy said. “It does not matter for us, or for Miss Dennis. For Niki to be right, that is what matters.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with what I did. Miss Dennis—albeit reluctantly—-just said so.”

  “Do you believe that? Niki?”

  Niki looked straight at Hildy, hard and straight. “Yes.”

  Hildy shook her head. “No, you do not.” She gathered her coat and left the room, unhurried.

  Ann sat crumpled in her chair.

  “I’m off too,” Niki said briskly. She thrust her hand out to Miss Dennis. “Thank you.”

  Miss Dennis took her hand, but did not shake it. She held it within both of her small palms. “Don’t thank me, Miss Jones. I have done you no favor Illusions are of more than one kind.”

  Niki swallowed. “But we cherish our own,” she said. Then she, too, left.

  Miss Dennis turned to Ann. “You had hoped for more, I think.” Ann nodded. “But you will have to find your own way,” Miss Dennis said. “I can’t do that for you.”

  “I guess I should have known,” Ann answered. “Anyway, I do thank you, for your time and trouble. I won’t bother you like this again. I’d already thought of everything that you said.” She carried the tea tray into the tiny kitchen.

  Miss Dennis walked with her to the door “We have to find our own compromises,” she said. “People like us. I have been inadequate here. I wish I could have been more.”

  “I can’t imagine what else you might have done,” Ann consoled her.

  “Neither can I,” Miss Dennis said. “But Miss Koenig can imagine. And Miss Jones can.”

  Ann walked slowly back to the dormitory. Leaden skies hung low and sullen. In the gathering darkness, the air was piercingly cold. She jammed her hands into the pockets of her coat and scuffed her feet. She slipped frequently. Films of water had begun to freeze on the sidewalk. She approached the dormitory through disheartened pines. Windows glowed with yellow light, warm and welcoming, but she did not want to be welcomed or warmed. Her own room was dark. She dropped her coat on the bed and sat on it.

  The room had been abandoned. She had been abandoned. Hildy’s glasses were folded on Hildy’s dresser in a line with the comb and brush. Niki and her typewriter were gone. Ann sat and waited. Nothing happened. The usual noises occupied the rest of the hall, the other rooms. Her own room held barren silence. She turned on the bedside light and lay back, studying the ceiling, until supper.

  Sunday supper was always sparsely attended, and the most dismal dishes from the deepest dark corners of the iceboxes were brought to the tables. Niki and Hildy did not appear.

  Ann returned to the empty room after the meal. She hung up her coat and undressed. She put on her nightgown. She got into bed and pulled the covers up over her head.

  She could not sleep. It was only seven o’clock, she thought to herself, and besides, if she could sleep she would only wake up terribly early.

  It wasn’t the failure, her own failure, that distressed her She decided that. It was the hopelessness.

  And it was being in the middle. Wishy-washy. Niki knew what she wanted. Niki was certain and sure. Hildy too. But she, Ann, what was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to figure out which side she was on? She’d chosen Hildy’s, but she couldn’t be Hildy. She suspected that Niki was—not right, that was Hildy’s word—correct. Safe was the word the Munchkin used.

  Miss Dennis had not solved anything. Ann had only made things worse. For everyone.

  Hildy was right. Hildy was always right. That didn’t help Ann at all.

  Ann discovered that she didn’t understand either of her roommates. She had thought she knew instinctively about Hildy. She had thought she could intellectualize Niki and know her. She hadn’t understood either one of them. And now she had a feeling of sympathy for Niki and a kind of fear of Hildy, to add to her inadequate understandings.

  She got out of bed, took a dime from her wallet, tied her bathrobe tight, and slipped her feet into loafers. The slippers were under the bed and she was too tired to bend over. She went out to the pay phone and dialed an operator who placed the collect call. Home.

  Mrs. Gardner accepted charges and made bright inquiry into Ann’s health and classes and social life.

  Ann brushed those aside. “I think I’ll come home this weekend. Is that all right with you?”

  “You know it is, dear But with Thanksgiving the following week, don’t you want to save your weekends?”

  “I want to come home.”

  “Then by all means do so. You know we’re always happiest when you children are home. Shall I tell your father? Or would you like to surprise him?”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. Let me surprise him.”

  “He’ll enjoy that. I hope I can remember—”

  “Mother! It’s your own idea.”

  “That should help, shouldn’t it? What do you think, a leg of lamb, or a steak? Which sounds better to you for Friday?”

  “Steak, by all means, steak. It’s been a long time since I’ve had steak. And really rare, and with mushrooms? Could you do that?”

  “It sounds good. Shall I meet the five o’clock bus?”

  “No, I’ll get a cab. If you’re not home, Dad will suspect something.”

  “That’s right. He is suspicious, isn’t he, by nature. I’ve never given him cause—it must have to do with the law, don’t you think?”

  “Maybe he just knows human nature better than we do.”

  “Maybe so. It’ll be good to see you, Ann. I had my mind set on not seeing you until next week, so this is a special treat. What a good idea this is.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” Ann said.

  “For what? This is your home.”

  Ann returned to the room. She studied the family picture (all of them, strung out in a long line, six strong) for a few min
utes before she sat at her desk and opened her history textbook.

  At eleven she went back to bed and slept. When she awoke to the alarm the next morning, Hildy’s bed was rumpled and empty. Niki’s had not been disturbed.

  Ann shrugged, half-glad to be alone. They had a practice that afternoon, but she would not worry about that. Hildy’s glasses were still on the bureau. Ann considered taking them down to breakfast, but decided not to.

  She had also decided, she dicovered as she sat down beside Hildy in the bare morning light, that she was not going to be drawn into the quarrel any further.

  “Morning,” she said, her voice expressionless.

  Hildy turned her face to Ann’s voice. “You were sleeping so well. I did not think you would wake.”

  “I set the alarm. You abandoned the glasses?”

  “Yes, I think so. Don’t you?”

  “I would,” Ann agreed. But she wouldn’t, she admitted that to herelf, even though she understood that it was what should be done. Even though she admired Hildy for the uncompromising decision. “No, I wouldn’t,” she said, to be truthful; but even if Hildy asked her what she meant, she wasn’t going to explain. Her self-consciousness made her awkward. She hit her egg too hard with the knife, and yolk oozed down over her fingers. “Where’s Niki?”

  Hildy shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  Ann broke a piece of toast into the egg cup. “Do you care?” (One did not raise such questions over breakfast, she knew that. The hell with it, she thought.)

  Hildy did not take offense. “Yes,” she said.

  “I know,” Ann apologized. “I needed reassurance. We have a practice today, so she’ll be there. That’s what I figure.”

  “I too am hoping that,” Hildy said. “It wasn’t your fault, Ann.”

  “I figured that out for myself,” Ann said. “Still—”

  Ann ate hastily. She gulped the last of her coffee. “See you.”

  Hildy gazed at her. Not uneasy, curious.

  “Oh,” Ann said. “By the way, I’m going to Philadelphia this weelend, home. I thought I ought to tell you.”

  “We play Wednesday and then not until after Thanksgiving. There is no worry.”

  “I wasn’t worried. I just thought I should tell you.”

  “I thank you,” Hildy continued to stare. “You have slept very deeply, yes?”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Ann demanded, but her defenses crumbled and she sat down again. “Hildy? When you see me, what do you see? Without glasses, I mean.”

  “I cannot explain.” Hildy looked away.

  Ann wanted to protest, but found she couldn’t. She was embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” she said. Then, “No, I’m not, not really. Thank you. See you at practice, OK?”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Niki was not at practice. Nobody had seen her all day. Ann, walking back from the gym with Hildy, walking close so as to be able to support one another on the unexpected icy patches, allowed her worry to surface. Hildy shared it.

  “What she would think,” Hildy said, “I cannot guess at it. What she would do.”

  “She could have left school,” Ann said. “She has a charge card.”

  “When she fears and what she fears and how she acts. She cannot be predicted.”

  “Or gone to another dorm?”

  “You, you go home, that is so, isn’t it? You go to something you know can be trusted. But Niki has no such place, inside herself or outside.”

  “She can’t just disappear,” Ann said. “Can she? Did she take her clothes? Her typewriter’s gone.”

  “This is my fault,” Hildy said. “I should not have seen. Or seeing, I should not have spoken.”

  “No more than mine,” Ann said.

  “That is not true. Don’t think that. I can see further into Niki than you can. I am more responsible.”

  Ann started to argue then remembered what she had seen in the Munchkin’s eyes and through Hildy’s glasses. “I really thought she would be at practice.”

  “I also. Should we do something?” Hildy asked.

  “Not me,” Ann said quickly. “I’m finished doing something. I’ve retired.”

  Hildy looked hard at her Ann hid her eyes, studying the sidewalk before them.

  After supper, instead of accompanying Hildy to the lab, Ann made a systematic search for Niki. The signout book revealed nothing. Niki’s clothes were still in her drawers and the photograph of her father stood on the dresser top. Ann went downstairs, to the living room. “Where’s Niki? Do any of you know?”

  One of the bridge players looked up. “Wasn’t she in the smoker? That’s where she was this afternoon.”

  Relief melted Ann’s bones. She hurried down the hallway to the smoker She didn’t want to talk to Niki, just see her, see that she was all right.

  The smoker was empty, an empty ugly room, like the diner of a bus terminal.

  Ann went back upstairs, slowly, making a list of people Niki might be visiting. If Niki had been in the smoker this afternoon she hadn’t disappeared and she hadn’t moved out.

  Ann found Niki in the room. She sat at her typewriter, turned around to face Ann, her face gray with fatigue but her eyes alight. “Annie. I was wondering where you were.”

  “You were wondering.” Ann said. “Where have you been?”

  “In the smoker.”

  “All this time? Since yesterday?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  Ann didn’t answer She stood in the doorway, a little angry. Everything was all right again, the world was in order Ann realized, reluctantly, that she cared as much about Niki as about Hildy.

  “Can you help me?” Niki asked. “Come in here. I wanted to ask you—” She looked guilty and then, with a deep breath and jabbing forefinger announced, “Don’t gloat. I wrote another paper OK? I need a letter for the professor, to explain as little as possible. But I don’t know how to say it. So, I told her to call the Munchkin if she doubts its propriety. Do you think that’s all right?”

  “It’s terrific,” Ann said.

  “Of course, the lady might not accept this paper at all. But that’s not my problem.”

  “Is that what you were doing? Writing another paper?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why? I mean I’m glad—you don’t know how glad—but I thought—”

  “You want the truth?”

  “That would be nice,” Ann said.

  “For Hildy. That’s the only reason. For her sake.”

  “Because . . . why?”

  “Because of yesterday. I didn’t need to lay all that stuff on her yesterday.”

  “This paper will more than make up for that,” Ann said.

  “You think so? I’m not so sure. You don’t know Hildy as well as you think you do, Annie. I don’t think this paper will make any difference to her at all. But I wanted to do it, so I did.”

  She won’t give an inch, Ann thought, then she grinned. “Uh-uh. You’re not going to get through to me that way. Is it good, the paper?”

  “Better than my usual, more thoughtful. Maybe a B-plus. So, I’ve made some progress. I’ll admit that to you, Annie. I’m pretty pleased with it. Want to read it?”

  Ann declined the offer. They waited for the slow hours to pass before Hildy’s return. Ann held in her excitement. Just when you least expected it, she thought, something wonderful happened, to make everything different. Better She tried to concentrate. Niki interrupted her. “How come you didn’t go to the lab?”

  “I was looking for you.”

  “You were worried about me? That’s sweet, real sweet. You really were, weren’t you. What did you think?”

  “I don’t know. That you’d bolted or something. Hildy was worried too,” she excused herself.

  “Can’t you get it through your head that I don’t care what happens here?” Niki said, her voice gentled by an unuttered laugh. “This place, and its rules and standards and systems—it doesn’t mean anything to me. You should have known
better than to worry. I keep a good perspective on things.”

  “Except winning,” Ann quarreled.

  “You’ve got to let steam out somewhere. Basic psychology, Annie.”

  At nine-fifteen (Ann had just glanced at her watch, which showed a slow progress of ten minutes since she had last looked) an unaccountable silence seeped in through the walls. Niki, at the window, said, “There’s a cop car outside, but no lights flashing. What’s going on?” Ann joined her, to look down at the darkened road. They watched Miss Dennis step cautiously from the car and walk heavily up to the porch. The car drove away.

  “I don’t know,” Ann said. “Something’s happened.”

  “Do tell.” Niki grinned. “I’ll go you one better: it’s something nasty. Is the real world going to come and get somebody, even here in the East, do you think? Even here in our ivory tower?”

  “This is the real world too,” Ann said. “As real as any other.”