Philip Dick - In Milton Lumky Territory

At eight-thirty he began the drive back to Idaho.

The next morning he blearily entered Boise. He stopped at a motel and rented a room. Without unloading any of his things he undressed, got into bed, and slept through the day. At five-thirty in the evening he arose, took a shower, shaved, put on clean clothes, and then drove over to downtown Boise and the R & J Mimeographing Service.

As he was parking, Susan Faine appeared at the office doorway, half a block away, waved to him, and disappeared back inside. He finished parking, got out of the car, and walked down.

Inside the office, Zoe de Lima greeted him with a frigid nod and at once turned her back. He said hello to her but she did not answer; she busied herself at her typewriter.

She knows, he said to himself.

With her coat and purse, Susan approached him from the back of the office. “Let’s go,” she said.

Together, they walked down the sidewalk and got into the car. “I told her,” Susan said. “We screamed at each other all day. Did you do it?” She craned her neck and saw all his clothes, suitcases, boxes of personal articles crammed into the back. “You did.”

“I quit my job,” he said. “And gave up my apartment.”

“Let’s go eat,” she said. “I’m starved.”

“Should you leave her?” he said.

“Why not?” Susan said. “Oh, I see what you mean. But she’s still a partner. She has a key. I can’t make her leave. It’ll take a week or so to have the legal business finished. Anyhow I don’t think she’d do anything vindictive. She’s hurt, and she’s mad at me, but she’s a reputable person. I’ve known her for years. We still expect to be friends.”

He said, “Well, you know her; I don’t.”

They sat for an interval in the car. The late-afternoon glare from the sidewalks was intolerable, and Susan shifted about uncomfortably. “Maybe I’ll go back inside and tell her we might as well close up for the day,” she said. She got out of the car and hurried back down the sidewalk. Time passed. Bruce put on the radio and listened to the news. Then, at last, he saw Mrs. de Lima leave the office, walking off briskly in the opposite direction. Susan locked up the office and came toward him, smiling.

“That’s that,” she said, getting in beside him.

“Where do you want to eat?” he asked, starting up the car.

“I have to go home,” Susan said. “Mrs. Poppinjay has to leave exactly at six forty-five on the dot, hail or rain or snow. And I really have to have dinner with Taffy; it’s something I need, as well as her. Mrs. Poppinjay starts a roast usually and then I take over when I get home and finish up and serve the meal, and Taffy and I eat together. It works out pretty well. Have you had dinner? I don’t know why I didn’t ask… I just took it for granted that you’d eat with us.”

“Okay,” he said.

When they got to her house Susan introduced him to Mrs. Poppinjay, a white-haired plump short old lady who obviously wanted to leave and get home to her own family. Taffy was off in her own room, coloring with crayons and listening to a children’s program on TV, her back to the set. She barely noticed him as Susan brought him into the room and told her what his name was and that he’d be working at the office.

“Nice-looking little girl,” he said, although he had not been able to see much more than that there was a little girl there, and that she was busy on the floor, and that she had light, almost blond hair. “Does she take after you or Walt?”

Susan, with a laugh, said, “She’s not Walt’s child. God forbid. I’ve been married twice.”

“Oh,” he said.

“Taffy was born during the Korean War. I didn’t meet Walt until early in 1955. I remember he had a brand new ’55 Chevrolet V8 and he was always telling me that it was the first V8 Chevy built and there was something wrong with the rings. It used oil.”

“Yes,” he said. “That’s a fact.”

“Walt’s on the road a lot, too, like you. Over to Salt Lake City and over to the Coast, to L.A. in particular. That’s strange, isn’t it…to think of you both driving around. He’s a factory representative. Conferences and sales meetings.” She hung up her coat and put on an apron.

“There’s plenty of money in galvanized iron,” he said.

“Yes,” she said, “and look how much I got out of it.”

After dinner they sat smoking and relaxing. Taffy had gone off by herself, probably back to her room. She seemed to be a quiet child, resourceful, not minding having to be by herself. The house was warm and peaceful. It smelled of pot roast.

“Am I enough of a cook for you?” Susan said.

“You certainly are,” he said. What a pleasure it had been, compared with the restaurant and roadside cafe meals he had endured for the last two years. None of the fried greasiness. The overcooked vegetables, watery and tasteless.

“I’m excited,” Susan said.

“So am I.”

“I know we’re going to be successful. And I’ve told Zoe; that’s a terrible load off my mind. As soon as you left yesterday I began preparing myself for it. And this morning when we opened the office I said, ‘Zoe, I want to talk to you.’ And I told her.”

“Good,” he murmured, feeling sleepy.

“Is it heartless?” Susan said.

“No,” he murmured. “That goes on all the time.”

“Now I’m having misgivings.”

That roused him. “It’s done,” he said. “I’m up here; I quit my job and gave up my apartment.”

She nodded in agreement. “And it’s going to be wonderful. We’ll go in together tomorrow, and I’ll start showing you around. Or actually we could drive over tonight. No, we can wait.” And then a thought struck her. “Bruce, maybe we should wait until Zoe is out. I don’t think it would be a good idea for you to have to bump into her; we’ll wait. How are you fixed for money?”

“How do you mean?” he said. “I have a two weeks’ paycheck they gave me. And I have some cash.” He did not know what she was driving at.

Considering at length, Susan said, “Where are you staying?”

“At the Jack Rabbit Inn Motel,” he said.

“How much is it?”

“Six bucks a day.”

She winced. “That’s forty-two dollars a week.”

“I’ll start looking for a room,” he said. “I don’t intend to be there as long as a week. If I’m not coming into the office right away I can start looking.”

Susan said, “But I want you to come in right away. I want to get started.” She fooled irritably with her cigarette. “I don’t want to wait—what do you think? Would it bother you to have to be there while Zoe’s there?”

“I don’t care,” he said. He doubted if it would bother him. After all, he did not know the woman; he had nothing to lose by her animosity.

“I want to start paying you,” Susan said, “but I can’t until the legal papers are signed and she’s officially not connected with the business. That means not until she’s received the money from me, for her share. So you won’t get paid anything for at least a week.”

That jolted him. “Okay,” he said, hoping he would be able to get by.

“That puts you in a bad spot,” she said. “I can see it does. I’m sorry, Bruce; I didn’t think of it until after we’d decided and you’d already started back to Reno.”

They both were silent.

Suddenly she said, “Listen, why don’t you stay here?”

He felt as if the top of his head had come loose.

“Of course,” she said, reaching out and tapping him urgently on the hand. “you can sleep here and eat here; there’s two spare bedrooms, and plenty of closet space. Why not?”

Struggling, he said, “If nobody minds.”

“The neighbors, you mean? I don’t think they’ll even notice. I hope not. Why should they? Anyhow, we have a lot to get settled. I want you to start working right now; we can go down together to the office at night, after dinner. After Taffy goes to bed. And I’ll have a key made for you. And the weekend’s coming up.” She put out her cigarette and leaped up. “Let’s go carry your things in from the car. Do you have everything you need?”