Филип Фармер: The Lovers

Yet, she was always asking him why he did not love her. And, when he replied that he did, she continued to say he did not. Then it was his turn to ask her if she thought he was lying. He was not; and if she called him a liar, then he would have to report her to the block gapt. Now, sheerly illogical, she would weep and say that she knew he did not love her. If he really did, he could not dream of telling the gapt about her.

When he protested that she thought it was shib for her to report him, he was answered with more tears. Or would be if he continued to fall into her trap. But he swore again and told himself that he would not.

Hal Yarrow walked through the living room, five-by-three meters, into the only other room-except the unmentionable-the kitchen. In the three-by two-and-a-half-meter room, he swung the stove down from the wall near the ceiling, dialed the proper code on its instrument panel, and walked back into the living room. Here he took off his jacket, crushed it into a ball, and stuffed it under a chair. He knew that Mary might find it and scold him for it, but he did not care. He was, at the moment, too tired to reach up to the ceiling and pull down a hook.

A low pinging sound came from the kitchen. Supper was ready.

Hal decided to leave the correspondence until after he had eaten. He went into the unmentionable to wash his face and hands. Automatically, he murmured the ablution prayer, 'May I wash off unreality as easily as water removes this dirt, so Sigmen wills it.'

After cleaning himself, he pressed the button by the portrait of Sigmen above the washbasin. For a second, the face of the Forerunner stared at him, the long, lean face with a shock of bright red hair, big projecting ears, straw-colored and very thick eyebrows that met above the huge hooked nose with flaring nostrils, the pale blue eyes, the long orange-red beard, the lips thin as a knife's edge. Then, the face began to dim, to fade out. Another second, and the Forerunner was gone, replaced by a mirror.

Hal was allowed to look into this mirror just long enough to assure himself his face was clean and to comb his hair. There was nothing to keep him from standing before it past the allotted time, but he had never transgressed on himself. Whatever his faults, vanity was not one of them. Or so he had always told himself.

Yet, he lingered perhaps a little too long. And he saw the broad shoulders of a tall man, the face of a man thirty years old. His hair, like the Forerunner's, was red, but darker, almost bronze. His forehead was high and broad, his eyebrows were a dark brown, his widely-spaced eyes were a dark gray, his nose was straight and of normal size, his upper lip was a trifle too long, his lips were full, his chin a shade too prominent.

Hal pressed the button again. The silver of the mirror darkened, broke into streaks of brightness. Then it darkened again and firmed into the portrait of Sigmen. For the flicker of an eyelid, Hal saw his image superimposed on Sigmen's; then, his features faded, were absorbed by the Forerunner, the mirror was gone, and the portrait was there.

Hal left the unmentionable and went to the kitchen. He made sure the door was locked (the kitchen door and unmentionable door were the only ones capable of being locked), for he did not want to be surprised by Mary while eating. He opened the stove door, removed the warm box, placed the box on a table swung down from the wall, and pushed the stove back up to the ceiling. Then, he opened the box and ate his meal. After dropping the plastic container down the recovery-chute opening in the wall, he went back to the unmentionable and washed his hands.

While he was doing so, he heard Mary call his name.

Hal hesitated for a moment before answering, though he did not know why or even think of it. Then, he said, 'In here, Mary.'

Mary said, 'Oh! of course, I knew you'd be there, if you were home. Where else could you be?'

Unsmiling, he walked into the living room. 'Must you be so sarcastic, even after I've been gone so long?'

Mary was a tall woman, only half a head shorter than Hal. Her hair was pale blond and drawn tightly back from her forehead to a heavy coil at the nape of her neck. Her eyes were light blue. Her features were regular and petite but were marred by very thin lips. The baggy high-necked shirt and loose floor-length skirt she wore prevented any observer from knowing what kind of figure she had. Hal himself did not know.

Mary said, 'I wasn't being sarcastic, Hal. Just realistic. Where else could you be? All you had to do was say, "Yes." And you would have to be in there – she pointed at the door to the unmentionable – 'when I come home.. You seem to spend all your time in there or at your studies. Almost as if you were trying to hide from me.'

'A fine homecoming,' he said.

'You haven't kissed me,' she said.

'Ah, yes,' he replied. 'That's my duty. I forgot.'

'It shouldn't be a duty,' she said. 'It should be a joy.'

'It's hard to enjoy kissing lips that snarl,' he said.

To his surprise, Mary, instead of replying angrily, began to weep. At once, he felt ashamed.

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'But you'll have to admit you weren't in a very good mood when you came in.'

He went to her and tried to put his arms around her, but she turned away from him. Nevertheless, he kissed her on the side of her mouth as she turned her head.

'I don't want you to do that because you feel sorry for me or because it's your duty,' she said. 'I want you to do it because you love me.'

'But I do love you,' he said for what seemed like the thousandth time since they had married. Even to himself, he sounded unconvincing. Yet – he told himself – he did love her. He had to.

'You have a very nice way of showing it,' she said.

'Let's forget what happened and start all over again,' he said. 'Here.'

And he started to kiss her, but she backed away.

'What in H is the matter with you? he said.

'You have given me my greeting kiss,' she said. 'You must not start getting sensual. This is not the time or place.'

He threw his hands up in the air.

'Who's getting sensual? I wanted to act as if you had just come in the door. Is it worse to have one more kiss than prescribed than it is to quarrel? The trouble with you, Mary, is that you're absolutely literal-minded. Don't you know the Forerunner himself didn't demand that his prescriptions be taken literally? He himself said that circumstances sometimes warranted modifications!'

'Yes, and he also said that we must beware of rationalizing ourselves into departing from his law. We must first confer with a gapt about the reality of our behavior.'

'Oh, of course!' he said. 'I'll phone our good guardian angel pro tempore and ask him if it's all right if I kiss you again!'

'That's the only safe thing to do,' she said.

'Great Sigmen!' he shouted. 'I don't know whether to laugh or cry! But I do know that I don't understand you! I never will!'

'Say a prayer to Sigmen,' she said. 'Ask him to give you reality. Then, we will have no difficulty.'

'Say a prayer yourself,' he said. 'It takes two to make a quarrel. You're just as responsible as I am.'

'I'll talk to you later when you're not so angry,' she said. 'I have to wash and eat.'

'Never mind me,' he replied. 'I'll be busy until bed time. I have to catch up on my Sturch business before report to Olvegssen.'

'And I'll bet you're happy you have to,' she said. 'I was looking forward to a nice talk. After all, you haven't said a word of your trip to the Preserve.'

He did not reply.

She said, 'You needn't bite your lip at me!'

He took a portrait of Sigmen down from the wall and unfolded it on a chair. Then he swung down his projector-magnifier from the wall, inserted the letter in it, and set the controls. After putting on his unscrambling goggles and sticking the phone in his ear, he sat down in the chair. He grinned as he did so. Mary must have seen the grin, and she probably wondered what caused it, but she did not ask. If she had, she would not have been answered. He could not tell her that he got a certain amusement from sitting on the Forerunner's portrait. She would have been shocked or would have pretended to be, he was never sure about her reactions. In any event, she had no sense of humor worth considering, and he did not intend to tell her anything that would downrate his M.R.