Three Women (15 page)

There was nothing left but to face the idea of putting Greta into the hands of someone who could really take care of her properly. A nurse of some sort would stay with Greta during the time when Byrne must be with Paula.

For two weeks Byrne interviewed women until she found the right person to take care of Greta. But Greta was not so detached from life she did not know what was happening.

She looked at Byrne with wide eyes that could not comprehend and said, "Why don't you want to live with me any more?" Her voice fluttered around Byrne with helplessness.

"I’ll see you very often," Byrne replied and struggled to keep a bright expression on her lips.

"Where will you be living?" Greta folded her hands childlike on her lap. All the years of sitting had made a caricature of her body. The warm woman's curves lay hidden beneath pads of fat and flab now.

"Not too far." Byrne tried to reassure her, even knowing it was hopeless.

"Will you show me where?" She tilted her head up with pleading. The gesture reminded Byrne of a dog tied outside the store and waiting for its master.

"Of course."

"Take me now?" she begged eagerly.

And Byrne had not the strength to deny her request. She got a taxi and brought Greta down to her apartment and watched her wander about from room to room, looking as if she were searching for a corner in which to curl up and hide herself.

Byrne took her by the hand and led her back into the living room.

"See?" she said, pointing to Greta's painting above the bookshelf. "I've got you with me all the time."

Byrne searched in vain for some response of pleasure but Greta's eyes remained as ever dull.

"Can I come to visit you sometimes?'' A tremor as of shook in her voice.

Instinctively Byrne pulled Greta into her arms. "Of course you can," she whispered, struggling to sound cheerful. "You can come here any time you want."

For the first time, now, Greta smiled.

"I’ll wait for you," Greta said. "I always want to wait for you."

Byrne brought her back to her own apartment and then left hurriedly. She went to a small dark bar and drank to quiet some of the tearing thoughts and heavy guilt that pulled at her with such pain.

Memories of the past fading, Byrne sat stiffly in the taxi, trying not to think of how Greta would respond to the news that she would have to go to a sanitarium.

Her desire to be with Paula was not the only factor influencing Byrne's decision to send Greta away. Byrne had finally forced herself to face the issue, to recognize Greta's warped instincts, her savagery, her pathological loneliness. Byrne had finally steeled herself to the inevitable task. She could no longer run away from the problem or continue to make excuses for Greta. Both women had to be considered.

Her first responsibility, Byrne decided, was to the living. The semi-living must be attended to in whatever way was most humane. But she could no longer allow Greta to rule her life.

Dear Paula—she thought it was all so simple. Thank heaven, she knew nothing of the pain.

Handing a bill to the cab driver, Byrne got out and went resolutely up to Greta's apartment.

Byrne smiled to herself as the nurse opened the door. How well Greta had managed to slip out from beneath this woman's surveillance whenever she felt like it!

“It's all right, Mattie," Byrne said. "You can go out for an hour or so. I want to be alone with her."

Greta was sitting on the floor, a sketch pad tilted on her knees. She didn't say one word to Byrne until Mattie had left the apartment.

Then she broke the charcoal stick in half and offered a piece to Byrne.

She sat down on the floor beside Greta and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

"How are you, dear?" Byrne said, not really knowing how much she should tell Greta about the sanitarium. She wasn't so detached and unaware of things that the men could just come and take her without any sort of previous explanation. Byrne had to make Greta realize that she wasn't being shipped off like a dead thing. And yet, wasn't that the real truth?

Greta kissed her back fiercely. She hooked her arms around Byrne's neck in a tight grip and pulled Byrne hard to her.

"You love me," she whispered. "I know you love me, even if you don't want to see me very much any more."

Byrne could find no words with which to soothe her. She herself was struggling through a morass of emotions that bludgeoned her sensibilities with a frantic desire to give in completely once more to this woman whose mind she had helped shatter. But the shining image of Paula saved Byrne. She could not betray Paula as she had betrayed this woman so long ago. Paula must be given a chance to live without the perpetual threat and hurt of Byrne's guilt hovering over them.

"Darling," Byrne said gently. "How would you like to go on a nice little trip?" She felt Greta's breath against her neck and knew that she wasn't really listening. "Wouldn't it be nice?" she continued. "Some place where there is grass and trees and a nice park where you can go for a walk instead of this little apartment?"

She loosened Greta's fingers from around her and made her look directly into her face.

"Wouldn't you like a change from the city for a while?"

Greta looked at her warily. "Are you coming, too?" she asked in voice that held obvious, little-girl fear.

Byrne hesitated. "Ill take you up there," she said soothingly. "Then I’ll show you around and help you make some friends."

"I don't want to go without you!" She lunged forward again and clung to Byrne. "Don't leave me," she begged in a small voice. "Please don't leave me all alone."

Byrne almost weakened. She could not bear to hear this desolation. But she had made the decision. And she knew it was the right one.

"I won't let you leave me," Greta said more loudly. Her panting breath bathed Byrne in its desperation.

Byrne let the woman cling to her for a while. She felt herself being pulled down into the core of Greta's sickness. A drowning sensation overwhelmed her. How could a love such as theirs had been turn into this fantastic nightmare?

All that saved her from being immersed and lost like Greta was the insistent image of Paula's young enthusiasm. She closed her eyes tightly and recalled the sweet kisses they had shared so tenderly. She remembered the innocent joy and the expectation of a full life that surrounded Paula's every word, her every movement.

Did she not have a right to this life with Paula? Was she compelled to sink with Greta into a dismal nothingness? Must she pay and pay until death for the words spoken in good faith so long ago to a mother who could not understand?

Once again Byrne tried to disengage herself from the Greta's strangling fingers.

"You can't leave me. I won't let you." And Greta started-to beat against Byrne's chest with violent fists that seemed to want to batter away her decision, even her words.

She grabbed Greta's wrists and tried to calm her. But the vision of being taken from Byrne blazed wildly in Greta's eyes and she tore herself loose with a superhuman strength.

"You can't go... You can't go away..." She grabbed Byrne's shoulders and shook her without awareness of what she was doing.

With her knee, Byrne shoved Greta away. The force of her push sent Greta skidding across the floor. She banged into the wall and her head hit the plaster with a sickening thud.

Byrne swallowed hard and got up. She couldn't stand this but what way out was left for her? She tried desperately to be objective. No one with any sense of responsibility could allow a person like Greta to remain outside of a hospital. The danger she presented both to herself and to others required the skills and facilities of a hospital doctor. She would get for Greta the best that money could buy. Greta would have all the luxuries that were available. But she could no longer be allowed to remain mad and free in a sane world.

The best thing would be to leave her now and let her sink back into the usual lethargy. But she hesitated to let her remain alone. If only Mattie would get back soon, she could go.

Greta sat there against the wall, her lips wet and glistening.

"I know you want to lock me away," she said. "I'd rather die first. And take you with me."

She made no move to get up. She sat there with her legs spread apart, only the toes of her shoes moving to show that life remained in her.

Byrne adjusted her blouse and noted that the top button had been ripped off. She sat down on a chair, resigned to waiting for Mattie's return.

It seemed hours before the woman got back. By the time her key turned in the lock, Greta had once again subsided into the dull unspeaking mass of flesh that she was most often.

Unable to look at her, afraid the sight of her would drain her remaining strength, Byrne hastily left the apartment.

* * *

She stood outside in the bitter daylight, letting the wind burn its coldness against her skin. Then she started slowly to walk up the street, knowing that there were many things still to be accomplished before she could live decently with Paula.

First of all, she must square with Phil. She found a phone and caught him at home before he left for work. He said would come right over.

Steeling herself for the job ahead of her, Byrne went slowly to answer his knock.

He sat down reluctantly.

"There's no point in wasting words," she began. "Or letting you down slowly. Please listen to what I have to say and if you hate me for it, I won't blame you."

Phil waited, his dark face paled with anxiety.

"It's about Paula, of course. Paula and myself, to be exact." Early morning busses rumbled somewhere down the street, pulling the rest of the world into its daily cycle.

"You came here the other day to ask why Paula isn't interested in you any more," Byrne continued. "I'm the answer. Much as I hated it to happen—for many reasons-she fell in love with me. I tried to discourage her. But now I don't want to anymore. And I'm going to do my best to keep her, Phil. I only hope you’ll accept what I tell you and not cause her any more pain than she already feels. We both admire and love you. But this is the way things are. I wanted you to know."

Phil managed to fight a cigarette. He dropped the match into an ash tray and watched its dying smoke curl upward and fade. "And I brought her here to impress you," he said. "What kind of a lousy world is this anyway? My own aunt. I wouldn't listen when the family talked about you that way."

"Believe me, I'd a thousand times rather have her be sensible enough to realize that you're a much better bargain than I am. All I can say is that I won't stand in Paula's way if she changes her mind."

"If that's how you feel, why don't you help her change it?"

Byrne smiled gently. "I'm no martyr."

"Well, neither am I. So just remember, I'm going to stick around every bit as long as you do."

"Good."

He squashed out his cigarette and went to the door. "Well, thanks anyway for telling me."

That Saturday morning Paula took out the old valise and set it on the floor beside her closet. Excitement thrilled her as she folded her favorite wool skirt and laid it neatly in the bag. Ma had resumed her usual domestic tasks and it almost seemed as though her father had only gone away for a visit. Paula couldn't help but expect the door to open at any minute and see him come walking in.

Paula chose another skirt, put her three best blouses on top of them and filled in the remaining space with underwear and toilet articles. She didn't have any shoes worth bothering about but tucked one pair of heels in just to be safe. Then she placed her green dress carefully on top and snapped the suitcase closed. If she had forgotten anything, she could always come back for it.

This was Mike's first day at the paint store and he had already left for work. Paula wished she had been able to say goodbye to him. Being alone like this with Ma was awkward and just to walk out on her as if she were only going to the store for a can of soup would be horrible.

She tried to think of something adequate to say but the words sounded stilted even in her mind. If anything, Paula didn't want to be phony. She merely wanted to be as simple and as natural as she felt her relationship with Byrne really was.

Ma had seen her packing but she pretended not to notice. Paula almost wished that she would put up some land of protest, not let her walk out without a word. She brought the valise into the hallway and took a glass of water to give Ma a chance to say something if she wanted to. But the woman continued to shell peas into a dish and all she could hear was the soft plink they made against the crockery.

"I wish," Paula started. No matter how much of a mess she made, she had to say something. "I wish it all hadn't happened," she said, conscious that she conveyed no meaning. “I’ll call you every so often and you'll get my check in the mail each week."

"Keep your money," her mother said with effort. She didn't look up at Paula but kept her eyes on what she was doing. "We don't want your money."

Paula didn't have the heart to fight. She wouldn't insist on winning her point. But she would send the check anyway. Certainly, her mother wouldn't tear it up.

"Tell Mike so long," she floundered. And, picking up the suitcase, she escaped from the apartment.

The happiness of going to Byrne was dimmed by the memory of her mother’s words. It isn't fair, she told herself. I can't do only the things she wants me to do. I'm old enough to make my own decisions.

Byrne had the door ajar and Paula dragged the suitcase in without knocking. Still in pajamas, Byrne looked more delicate than usual. Paula dropped the valise and buried her face in the warm-smelling material. Byrne let her cling for awhile, stroking the head and kissing it gently, soothing away the turmoil that spun inside of Paula. "Is that everything?" she said at last, looking at the suitcase on the floor and wrinkling her forehead.

"Yes," said Paula, blushing. "You probably won't even like what's inside."

"Probably not," Byrne agreed with a soft laugh. "Let's see."