Part 41 (2/2)
Jesse looked at her. Then he reached over and took off the hat. Blond hair rushed out and over the rough s.h.i.+rt.
She grabbed for the hat. ”We mustn't, she said. ”Please--what if somebody should come in?”
”No one will come in. I told you that.”
”But what if? I don't know--I don't like it here. That man at the door--he almost recognized me.”
”But he didn't.””Almost though. And then what?”
”Forget it. Mina, for G.o.d's sake. Let's not quarrel.”
She calmed. ”I'm sorry, Jesse. It's only that--this place makes me feel--”
”--what?”
”Dirty.” She said it defiantly.
”You don't really believe that, do you?”
”No. I don't know. I just want to be alone with you.”
Jesse took out a cigarette and started to use the lighter. Then he cursed and threw the vulgarly shaped object under the table and crushed the cigarette. ”You know that's impossible,” he said. The idea of separate Units for homes had disappeared, to be replaced by giant dormitories. There were no more parks, no country lanes. There was no place to hide at all now, thanks to Senator Knudson, to the little bald crest of this new sociological wave. ”This is all we have,” Jesse said, throwing a sardonic look around the booth, with its carved symbols and framed pictures of entertainment stars--all naked and leering.
They were silent for a time, hands interlocked on the table top. Then the girl began to cry. ”I--I can't go on like this,” she said.
”I know. It's hard. But what else can we do?” Jesse tried to keep the hopelessness out of his voice.
”Maybe,” the girl said, ”we ought to go underground with the rest.”
”And hide there, like rats?” Jesse said.
”We're hiding here,” Mina said, ”like rats.”
”Besides, Parker is getting ready to crack down. I know, Mina--I work at Centraldome, after all.
In a little while there won't be any underground.”
”I love you,” the girl said, leaning forward, parting her lips for a kiss. ”Jesse, I do.” She closed her eyes. ”Oh, why won't they leave us alone? Why? Just because we're que--”
”Mina! I've told you--don't ever use that word. It isn't true! _We're_ not the queers. You've got to believe that. Years ago it was _normal_ for men and women to love each other: they married and had children together; that's the way it was. Don't you remember anything of what I've told you?”
The girl sobbed. ”Of course I do. But, darling, that was a long time ago.”
”Not so long! Where I work--listen to me--they have books. You know, I told you about books? I've read them, Mina. I learned what the words meant from other books. It's only been since the use of artificial insemination--not even five hundred years ago.”
”Yes dear,” the girl said. ”I'm sure, dear.”
”Mina, stop that! We are not the unnatural ones, no matter what they say. I don't know exactly how it happened--maybe, maybe as women gradually became equal to men in every way--or maybe solely because of the way we're born--I don't know. But the point is, darling, the whole world was like us, once. Even now, look at the animals--”
”Jesse! Don't you dare talk as if we're like those horrid dogs and cats and things!”
Jesse sighed. He had tried so often to tell her, show her. But he knew, actually, what she thought.
That she felt she was exactly what the authorities told her she was--G.o.d, maybe that's how they all thought, all the Crooked People, all the ”unnormal” ones.
The girl's hands caressed his arms and the touch became suddenly repungnant to him. Unnatural.
Terribly unnatural.
Jesse shook his head. Forget it, he thought. Never mind. She's a woman and you love her and there's nothing wrong nothing wrong nothing wrong in that. . . or am I the insane person of old days who was insane because he was so sure he wasn't insane because--.
”Disgusting!”
It was the fat little man, the smiling masher, E.J. Two Hobart. But he wasn't smiling now.
Jesse got up quickly and stepped in front of Mina. ”What do you want? I thought I told you--”
The man pulled a metal disk from his trunks. ”Vice squad, friend,” he said. ”Better sit down.” The disk was pointed at Jesse's belly.The man's arm went out the curtain and two other men came in, holding disks.
”I've been watching you quite a while, mister,” the man said. ”Quite a while.”
”Look,” Jesse said, ”I don't know what you're talking about. I work at Centraldome and I'm seeing Miss Smith here on some business.”
”We know all about that kind of business,” the man said.
”All right--I'll tell you the truth. I forced her to come here. I--”
”Mister--didn't you hear me? I said I've been watching you. All evening. Let's go.”
One man took Mina's arm, roughly; the other two began to propel Jesse out through the club.
Heads turned. Tangled bodies moved embarra.s.sedly.
”It's all right,” the little fat man said, his white skin glistening with perspiration. ”It's all right, folks.
Go on back to whatever you were doing.” He grinned and tightened his grasp on Jesse's arm.
Mina didn't struggle. There was something in her eyes--it took Jesse a long time to recognize it.
Then he knew. He knew what she had come to tell him tonight: that even if they hadn't been caught--she would have submitted to the Cure voluntarily. No more worries then, no more guilt. No more meeting at midnight dives, feeling shame, feeling dirt . . .
Mina didn't meet Jesse's look as they took her out into the street.
”You'll be okay,” the fat man was saying. He opened the wagon's doors. ”They've got it down pat now--couple days in the ward, one short session with the doctors; take out a few glands, make a few injections, attach a few wires to your head, turn on a machine: presto! You'll be surprised.”
The fat officer leaned close. His sausage fingers danced wildly near Jesse's face.
<script>