Sense of Wonder: A Century of Science Fiction (356 page)

“Yes. All right. When can we see each other?”

“I don’t know yet, but we will. We have things to settle, you and I. You’re in the phone book?” He nodded. “I’ll call.”

She stood, and he with her. She started to move away, but he took her arm. “Just a minute, Elaine. It’s been a long time.” They kissed long, before they moved apart and walked out.

“I go this way,” she said. “It’s only a few blocks. Don’t come with me.”

He stood looking after her, at the grace of her walk. After a few steps, she turned. “I’ll call you tonight,” she said. “We can meet tomorrow, if I’m still here. Still now, I mean.”

“Well, you have to be, is all.” They smiled and waved; then he turned and walked to the parking lot.

* * * *

When he unlocked his apartment door, he almost knocked Judy off the ladder; she nearly dropped the picture she was hanging. “Oh, it’s you!” she said. “Here, catch this.” Off-balance, she leaned to hand him the picture. Her hair was hanging loose, brushed smooth, and her robe was open. She descended, and closed the robe before she turned to face him.

“Have you had lunch, Larry? I waited awhile, but then I got hungry and had mine. I’ll do yours if you want, though why I should when you’re so late…”

He started to say he wasn’t hungry, then realized he was; he’d missed lunch. “Go ahead with what you’re doing, Judy; I’ll make a sandwich. My own fault; I got hung up.” From the refrigerator he took bread, meat to slice, pickles and a jar of mustard. “When we’re both done, let’s have a beer and chat some.”

She
went back to her task, picture in one hand, hammer in the other and tacks silencing her mouth. Climbing a ladder, he thought, does a lot for a good round butt.

He knew what he wanted to talk about. A trip out of town, a fictitious assignment. A pre-honeymoon, by about ten years, with Elaine.

Keeping cover was one thing; he’d always had to do that. Lying was something else, he found, as he and Judy talked, sipping beer from bottles as though it were champagne from frosted goblets. The beer went well, after his sandwich.

“I’m not sure yet,” he said, “but I may need to cut out for the last of this week and the weekend.” He knew his slang had to be a little out of date, one way or the other, but always there was some leeway in speech patterns. “Let you know for sure, soon as I can.”

“Sure, Larry. I wish I could go with you, but you know I’m tied this weekend.”

“Sure.” He hadn’t known it, but it helped. “Next time, maybe.”

She was vital and desirable, Judy. Mobile mouth, bright hair, lithe body carrying no more than five excess pounds, all nicely hidden. No genius, but a good mind and compatible nature. And in bed, like a mink with its tail on fire. So why could he not cleave to her? Because she was of the other species, the one that lived along a single line and knew nothing else.

And was that the reason she would become a fat, surly drunk? He wished he knew, and that it didn’t have to happen.

* * * *

Dinner wasn’t much to brag about. “Leftovers Supreme,” said Judy; her grin was wry. They were drinking coffee when the phone rang.

It was Elaine; he put her on “Hold.” “Business stuff,” he said to Judy. “I’ll take it in the other room so you can read your book.” Again, it hurt to lie; Judy didn’t deserve lies.

On the bedroom extension: “Elaine?” The connection was noisy.

“Yes, Larry. I’ve been thinking.”

“So have I. We need more time.”

She laughed through the circuit noises. “Yes. We always do.”

“I mean, time to ourselves. To think, and talk together.” He paused, surprised to find himself embarrassed. “And to have each other, if you’d like that. I would.”

She was silent for a moment. “What’s the matter? Are you hard up? Has your lush gone dead?”

Anger! “You have no right to say that. You don’t know her. And why—?”

Her voice came softly, almost drowned in the crackling sounds. “All right, Larry, so I’m jealous. Sorry about that. Shouldn’t have said it. I’m a little drunk, boozing along with Kemo Sahib before he passed out a while ago. Leaving myself untouched, as usual. It does make me bitchy, when he spends all evening working up to nowhere. I wish I knew what he does with it.”

“I wish I knew a lot of things,” he said. “But never mind that. What do you say—Elaine, let’s just take off for a few days; the hell with everything. Okay?”

She waited longer than he liked. Then, “I can get away with it if you can.” Another pause. “And we can talk? Everything?

“That’s what I was hoping.”

“All right, Larry. I’ll be in that same bar tomorrow, about noon. Or a little later; I’m not much for being on time. But there. With my suitcase.”

“Yes. Yes, Elaine. And goodnight.”

“Cautious. Larry. It’s all right; I can wait for you to say the rest.” The phone went dead, dial tone blurting at his ear. He listened as though there were meaning in the noise, then hung up and went back to Judy.

* * * *

She was reading, TV on but the sound off; he’d never understood that habit, either time he’d known her. It’s not so alone, was all she ever said.

“Like a beer or anything?” he said. “I think I’ll have one or two, look at the paper a little. And then crap out early.”

“With or without?”

“Huh?”

“Me.”

“Oh. With.”

“Good. Yes, I’d like a beer with you, Larry.”

That part was good. Instead of reading, they talked. After a while, he told her about his “assignment”—not what or where, but when. “I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning, not too early, and be back Monday. Maybe Sunday night.”

“Yes. Well, with luck I’ll be too busy to miss you properly.”

He began to laugh, but stopped. For he didn’t expect to be missing Judy.

He finished his beer and went to the refrigerator. “Another, honey?”

“No, but you go ahead and have one while I shower.” He did, then showered also.

Later, plunging together and close to all of it, he found his mind was with Elaine. Fantasy in sex was nothing new, but this reality deserved better. He almost failed to climax then; when he did, it was minor, a mere release. But he had good luck with Judy-the-unpredictable; she made it big and asked no questions. He was glad of that much.

* * * *

Elaine, suitcase and all, arrived as the bartender set drinks on the table. “Am I late, Larry?” He shook his head; they kissed briefly.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked. “Anyplace special?”

“Yes, I think so, if you like the idea. If you don’t think it’s too far.” She sipped the chilled vermouth. “There are some lakeside cabins a little north of Fond Du Lac. I was there once, with the great white bottle-hunter.”

“Oh? Memories?”

She made a face. “He hated it; I loved it.”

“Do you remember the name of the place? Maybe we should call first.”

She shook her head. “It’s past the season. School’s started; all the little sunburns are back in their classrooms.”

“Okay. I’ll take the chance if you will.”

They left their drinks unfinished.

* * * *

The cabin was at the north end of the row, adjoining a grove of maples. The inside was unfinished, the studding exposed, but the bed was comfortable and the plumbing worked. They sunned beside the lake, swam a little, and dined on Colonel Sanders’ fried chicken. Correct dinner attire was a towel to sit on.

“Tomorrow we’ll go out and eat fancy,” he said, “but tonight we’re at home.”

“Yes, Larry. Just don’t lick your fingers, or I’ll swat you.”

Indian summer cooled in twilight; they had waited for the heat to slacken. Now, he thought, comes our time together. It did, and not much later, again.

Then they sat side by side on the bed. He brought a wooden chair to hold cigarettes, ashtray and two bottles of cold beer. For a time they talked little, busy smoking, sipping beer, touching each other and smiling. It’s just the way it was, he thought.

He touched the breast, small and delicately curved, that was nearest him.

“I was never much in that department, was I?”

she said.

“Beauty comes in all sizes, Elaine.”

“Yes, but you know, I felt so one-down, with Frank and Rhonda. She was so damned superbly—uh, endowed, it just killed me.” She was smiling, but she stopped. “It did, you know. Literally.”

He was running his hand through her hair, bringing it over to brush slowly across his cheek and then letting it fall, over and over. “I don’t understand.”

“Larry, I knew I had a lump. For more than a year, before you found out and made me see a doctor—what was his name? Greenlee.”

“But why—?”

“I didn’t have much, and I was afraid of losing what I had. So I tried to think it wasn’t serious. And the worst—I don’t know if I should even tell you…”

“Come on, Elaine. You and I can’t afford secrets.”

She butted her cigarette with firm straight thrusts. “All right. Greenlee told me, after the examination, that if I’d gone to him earlier I could have gotten by with a simple mastectomy at
worst,
and not too much of a scar. But I couldn’t take the idea, Larry. So I put it off, and ended up with that ghastly double radical, all the muscles, all that goddamned radiation and—
you
know—and even that was too late.” Her eyes were crying but she made no sound.

“Jesus, Elaine!” He had to hold her, because there was nothing else he could do. And besides, he had to hold her.

Finally he spoke. “You just made up my mind for me; you know that?”

“About what?”

“What you said. Next time we’re together we tell each other, even though we didn’t. If we can; I’m not sure. But if we can—look; the record says I’m with you again, right after this time and then a few months back in college. And first thing, I’m going to try to tell you. About how we’re the same, and then about the cancer too.”

“But I’ve lived that, Larry. And died of it.”

He was up and pacing. He laughed shortly, without humor, and went to the refrigerator. He set two fresh beers on the chair and sat again.

“I’ve never tried to change anything before, Elaine. I guess I thought it couldn’t be done. Or I was too busy keeping cover to think of making waves. I don’t mean I followed any script; I didn’t have one. But I went along with how things were, and it all seemed to fit. Not now, though.” He gripped her shoulder and turned her to face him. “I don’t want you to die as you did.”

He was really too tired for sex, he thought. But he found he wasn’t.

* * * *

They planned to stay until Monday, but Sunday came gray, cold with wind and rain. So for breakfast, about ten o’clock, Larry scrambled all the remaining eggs, enough for four people. They had more toast than they could manage, and gave the rest to a hungry brood of half-grown mallards.

In the cabin, luggage packed. “I hate to leave, Larry.”

“I know. Me too.” He grinned. “We could stop at a motel for seconds if you like.”

She shook her head. “No. It wouldn’t be the way it is here.” So they didn’t. Except for a mid-afternoon snack break, he drove nonstop, and pulled up to let her off at her apartment house.

“It can’t be as good, Elaine, but we’ve got to see each other anyway. I’m only here through November ninth.”

“I don’t know how long I am, of course. But, yes—I have to see you.

After the kiss she walked inside without looking back. He drove home, trying to put his mind in gear for Judy.

But Judy wasn’t there, and neither were her possessions.

The letter was on the kitchen table:

I’m sorry Larry but I’m bugging out. I don’t know what’s wrong but I know something is, you aren’t the same. It’s not just you going off this weekend, I need people to be the same. I love you, you know that Larry, but you changed on me. The day you went to the bank you came up different. I need you to be the same to me, I need that. So I’m bugging out now. Don’t worry, I’ll call off all the wedding present stuff, you won’t be bothered with it. I do love you when you were the same and I’ll miss you a lot.

Judy

Well. She didn’t say where she was going; it could be anywhere. The hell with unpacking; get a beer, sit down and think it out.

Two cigarettes later, the memory came—the time she told him about this.

“Remember when I ran out on you, Larry? I was really spooked; I don’t know why, now. And I never knew how you found me. You didn’t even know I
had
a cousin Rena Purvis.” He laughed and memorized the name, as he did all things concerning his future in someone else’s past.

Rena Purvis’ number was in the book. He dialed the first three digits, then thought a moment and hung up. He dialed Elaine instead.

A man’s voice answered. “H’lo? Who’that?” Kemo Sahib had a good start.

How to play it? “Mr. Marshall? Mr. Garth here. I have the report Mrs. Marshall requested early last week.”

“S’okay. I’take it, fella.”

“I’m sorry—Mrs. Marshall’s instructions…would you put her on the line, please?”

“I said I’take it. Or leave it. Take it or leave it. Get it?”

“Perhaps Mrs. Marshall could call me back? Mr. Garth?”

The slurred voice harshened. “Saaay—you’ the bastard she was off with, right?”