Robert Silverberg: The Happy Unfortunate

He nodded.

“Kanaday was supposed to be going to Pluto. He was heading there when that explosion finished his foot. He never got there after that.”

“Poor old Kanaday,” Rolf said.

“I’ll miss him too. I guess I’ll have to run the boarding-house now. For a while. Will you come back here when your year’s up?”

“I suppose so,” Rolf said without looking up. “This town is no worse than any of the other Spacertowns. No better, but no worse.” He slowly lifted his head and looked at her as she stood there facing him.

“I hope you come back,” she said.

The sun was coming in from behind her, now, and lighting her up. She was rugged, all right, and strong: a good hard worker. And she was well built. Suddenly his aches became less painful, as he looked at her and realized that she was infinitely more beautiful than the slick, glossy-looking girl he had kissed on the veranda, who had bought her teeth at a store and had gotten her figure from a surgeon. Laney, at least, was real.

“You know,” he said at last, “I think I have an idea. You wait here and I’ll come get you when my year’s up. I’ll have enough to pay passage to Venus for two. We can get a slightly smaller mansion than I planned on getting. But we can get it. Some parts of Venus are beautiful. And the closest those monkeys from Yawk can get to it is to look at it in the night sky. You think it’s a good idea?”

“I think it’s a great idea,” she said, moving toward him. Her head was nearly as high as his own.

“I’ll go back to space. I have to, to keep my rating. But you’ll wait for me, won’t you?”

“I’ll wait.”

And as he drew her close, he knew she meant it.