He left.
She sighed with relief.
Ten minutes before lunch he was back: “Hey, let me take you out on my credit this afternoon—no, don’t say you’ve got another appointment. I know it’s not true. Look—” Philip’s bearded smile brought back Sam’s black one at the bar, a layer of it friendly, another layer of it mocking, and something that was totally Philip and wholly unpleasant, beaming through—“I know we grate on each other’s nerves from time to time. But, really, I would like to talk to you this afternoon,” which, from your boss, was another thing you didn’t refuse.
Philip took her not to the company dining room, but to a place across the Plaza where they sat in an enclosed bubble of opalescent glass, the table between them rimmed with black and gold, for all the world like an interplanetary letter-form; and over a remarkably good, if somewhat lichenous, lunch, Philip launched into endless gossipy speculations about two of the junior programmers, about Audri, about himself—his commune was thinking of moving further along the Ring, which would leave their place opened; Audri was due for a credit reslotting, and really she was much better at this job than he was and, maybe, ought to think about taking their place over, if she could find some compatible people to get a family going again and to furnish the other necessary credit levels. When was his group vacating? Well, he wasn’t really sure, but ...
Then they were leaving, Philip was still talking, and by now Bron, having become tired of her own annoyance and exhausted with pretending it wasn’t there, was morosely wondering if perhaps this wasn’t all some ineffably gentle prologue to getting fired—or at least a serious reprimand. She remembered Audri’s warning two weeks ago. In all her new zeal, she might have committed some really amazing blunder that had just come to light. Was that possible? In the general confusion of her current life, she found herself thinking she could have done anything. Well, then, she was ready—
And Philip, at her office door, was smiling, nodding, was turning to leave.
And an hour later was back, still smiling, asking if the new topoform specifications she had delivered yesterday had given her any particular problems (no), if Audri had been by (also no), if lunch had been all right (it was very nice, thank you). He only stayed five minutes this time, but seconds after he left, it suddenly struck her—and made her put both hands flat on the desk, look up, open her mouth, close it again, then drop her hands to her lap: Philip was getting ready to make a pass!
The idea should have been horrifying.
But it was too funny!
The only really horrible thing was just how funny it was!
What’s the matter with Philip, she thought. Then she remembered: Hadn’t he once been indiscreet enough to mention he’d once married a transexual; oh, I am dense! she thought. He probably has a “thing” for them! Wouldn’t you know, all I’ve done is become his particular type! Dense ... ? That was not the word for it if it had taken her this long to realize what was going on! And when he actually came out and propositioned her? I will do, she thought, absolutely nothing] If he signals me, I will not see! If he speaks, I will not hear him! If he falls down on his knees to me, I will leave the room! I am just not here for that kind of shit! she thought on the edge of anger. And, holding both anger and the laughter back, she plunged again into the work.
Twenty minutes before closing, Philip was in the door again. “Hey, Bron—” with the ingratiating smile, the velvet voice—“Audri wanted to talk to you. I think we can all kick off early today. So I’ll just leave you two to hash it out—” He ducked his head, and was gone.
And Audri, looking very nervous, stood behind where Philip had been. “Bron,” she said, “do you mind walking back with me. I mean toward my place. At least for a couple of stops. I want to talk to you,” and she stood, looking not quite at Bron, hands moving at her hips of her dark slacks.
Surprised, Bron said, “All right,” because she liked Audri, and Audri was her boss too, and because Philip’s absence was such a relief. “Just a second.” She pushed things into the drawer, closed it, stood up.
Together, they walked out of the building, Bron becoming more aware of the silence.
Halfway across the Plaza of Light, Audri said: “Philip thinks I’m out of my mind, but he also thinks that whether I’m out of my mind or not, I should just be straightforward and come out with it. Which is going to be pretty hard. But I guess I have to ...” Audri took a breath, tightened her mouth, let the breath out slowly, then said, almost in a whisper:
“Come home with me. Make love with me. Live with me ...” Then she glanced at Bron, with a flicker of a smile—“forever. Or a year. Or six hours. Or six months ...” She took another breath. “Philip’s right: that is the hard part.”
“What?” Bron said.
“I said ... well, you did hear me, didn’t you ... ?”
“Yes, but ...” Bron laughed, herself, only it didn’t quite sound. “Well ... I just don’t—”
Audri smiled at the pink pavement as they walked. “There’s an easy part too. My credit rating goes up in two weeks—more postwar boom. Philips says there’s a good possibility I can get this co-op unit out on the Ring if I can get enough people together. There are about four other high-rate women I’ve talked to who said they were interested. Together we’ve got five kids between us. There’d be room for you if you ...” She paused. “Well, you know what Philip’s place looks like. It’s pretty nice. Even if you just wanted to try it, to see how it might work out ... does it sound too much like I’m trying to lure you into my bed with promises of material gain?”
“No, but—Well .. »
“Bron, you know I’ve always liked you ... been very fond of you—”
“And I’ve always been fond of you too—”
“But then there was—I mean, before—always the physical thing. It took me till I was twenty-three, with my first two kids, to realize that men just weren’t where I was. Some people learn that lesson very easily. With me it came late and hard. Maybe that’s why I was never particularly interested in unlearning it ... But, well—really, there was always something about you that I felt sort of warm and protective toward. Then, the day of the war, when you broke through the enforcement barricade to come to our co-op and help us get out of the danger area. That was so ...” She shook her head. “—incredibly brave! I mean I’ve always known you’ve liked me—it’s always pretty easy to tell what you’re feeling; in a nonverbal way, I suppose you’re a very open person—but when you came in to get us, I realized maybe that your liking me had a strength to it I’d just never suspected before. That you would put your life in danger for mine and my family’s—I mean, I never told you, but they found Mad Mike’s body the next day. He’d been killed by a gravity dip, when a wall fell on him. So I know how dangerous it was out there. Really, when I thought about what you had done, I was just ... stunned! Really. That’s the only way I can put it. You know I used to—” She laughed, suddenly and softly, then glanced again at Bron. “I used to say to Philip, even before the war, that if you were only a woman, I could ...” She laughed again. “I mean, it was a joke. But then, to come in the day after the war and find that you were a woman .... You are a woman ...” Audri took another breath. “I’m not the kind of boss-lady who goes chasing her employees around the desk. But—well ...” She let the breath out, slowly: the glance again, the smile—“the last six months has been a little rough.”
Bron touched Audri’s naked shoulder. And felt Audri shake, once, without breaking step; Audri was looking at the ground about five feet ahead of them. “Audri, look I—”
“I don’t really expect you to say yes,” Audri said, quickly and quietly. “And no matter what you decide, nothing’s going to change at work or anything. I promise. I made up my mind about that before I even decided to open my mouth. I told myself I wasn’t even going to mention refixation treatments; but I guess I just did ... I mean—the thing is, I guess because I’ve been open about it, I ...” She was still looking at the ground, only three feet ahead of them now—“I do feel better ...”