Unlike Others by Valerie Taylor Page A

mouth, a little of the coffee ran down her chin. Jo wanted to take Betsy in her arms and hold her until the shaking stopped. She sat up straight, keeping both hands on the hot cup, her slippers planted firmly on the rug. If she got up and went to Betsy now, it would be the end.
    She said carefully, "It's none of my business, but I'm ready to listen if you want to tell me about it."
    "I'm so ashamed," Betsy said. Her shivering worsened. She decided she couldn't manage the cup and saucer, and set them carefully on the floor. "You knew I had a date with Stan last night, didn't you? He talks to you a lot."
    I knew a hell of a lot more than that, Jo thought grimly. She nodded. "He said something about it."
    "There didn't seem to be any reason I shouldn't go," Betsy said defensively. "Unless you think it's not a good policy to date anyone you work with. I wouldn't if it was a larger place. I mean, well, my divorce is final and he's not married or anything, I thought it would be okay."
    He's married to a horrible old hypochondriac and a flock of guilt complexes, he's Oedipus in person, Jo thought, but she managed not to say it. She nodded. "I'd say it was your own business. A girl has to make up her own mind about things like that."
    "I don't want to marry anyone, but that doesn't mean I can't go to dinner with a man."
    "I wouldn't think so."
    Betsy fell silent. Stalling, Jo thought. She wants to tell me, but she doesn't know how to get started. Once the first word comes out it'll be easy, like getting the first olive out of a bottle. She sighed. Looks like I’ll have to do all the work.
    She asked gently, "Did you go to the movies, or dinner or what?"
    “Both. It was all right—I mean, he seemed sort of absent-minded, but it's different from the office and I thought, well, maybe he was tired or something. I thought maybe he was worried about his mother, too. I know he hardly ever leaves her alone in the evenings."
    “And?"
    “We went to the movies." Betsy faltered to a stop. After a minute she went on, "Then went to a restaurant and had a drink. I didn't want anything to eat, but he ordered steak.”
    Trite, Jo thought tiredly. He plies the kid with liquor takes her to a motel, or a hotel. Right out of East Lynne. She asked, "Did you drink very much?"
    "I wasn't stoned, if that's what you mean. I felt relaxed—you know the way you feel after a couple of drinks. Only after dinner we went to a place, sort of a night club I guess. They had a strip-tease act I thought was disgusting." Betsy shook her head. "Men seem to go that kind of thing, I don't know why."
    Jo waited.
    "So then he said, ‘Let's go someplace where we can talk.' Like that. All he wanted was to talk, that's what he said."
    Betsy got up and walked across the room. Standing with her back to Jo, she looked smaller and younger than she really was. "I knew what he wanted," she said in a muffled voice. "Fellows all tell you that. Everybody does it, I'm not going to hurt you, I’ll take good care of you, and so on. That's why I liked Chuck, he never tried to make any time with me before we were married. The rest of them were always wanting me to come up to their room, or something. Just to talk!" she said with sudden sharpness.
    Jo was silent. She could see Betsy following Stan into a room, standing silent and acquiescent while he shut the door behind them. It hurt. She couldn't have spoken if she'd wanted to.
    Betsy said, "We went to a motel."
    Okay, girl, put that quarter in your other pocket, you were right the first time. Jo moved a little. The soft wool of her robe whispered against the upholstery, the only sound in the room.
    "I knew what he wanted. I'm not going to pretend I didn't, it wouldn't be any use. They all want the same thing no matter what they tell you. Only by that time I didn't care so much," Betsy said honestly. "I guess I was a little drunker than I thought"
    "You didn't have to go."
    "I know. I thought about it while he went in the office and