Exile from Space
Page 5
beginning to befamiliar, and I could manage better. I experimented with a cerealcalled oatmeal, which was delicious, then I went back to the motel,packed up all my new belongings, left the key on the desk--asinstructed by the sign on the door--and started out for Denver.
* * * * *
Denver, according to the Encyclopedia Americana, is more of a truemetropolitan area than Colorado Springs; that means--on Earth--that itis dirtier, more crowded, far less pleasant to look at or live in, anda great deal more convenient and efficient to do business in. InDenver, and with the aid of a Colorado driver's license for casualidentification, I was able to sell two of my larger diamonds fairlyquickly, at two different places, for something approximating half oftheir full value. Then I parked the car they had given me on a sidestreet, took my suitcase, coat, and book with me, and walked to thenearest car sales lot. I left the keys in the old car, for theconvenience of anyone who might want it.
Everything went extraordinarily smoothly, with just one exception. Ihad found out everything I needed to know in that library, except thatwhen dealing with humans, one must always allow for waste time. If Ihad realized that at the time I left Colorado Springs that morning,everything might have turned out very differently indeed--althoughwhen I try to think just what other way it _could_ have turned out, Idon't quite know ... and I wonder, too, how much they knew, orplanned, before they sent me down there....
This much is sure: if I hadn't assumed that a 70-mile trip, with a60-mile average speed limit, would take approximately an hour and ahalf, and if I had realized that buying an automobile was not the samesimple process as buying a nightgown, I wouldn't have been late for myluncheon appointment. And if I'd been there on time, I'd never havemade the date for that night. As it was, I started out at seveno'clock in the morning, and only by exceeding the speed limit on thelast twenty miles of the return trip did I manage to pull into thatdiner parking space at five minutes before two.
His car was still there!
It is so easy to look back and spot the instant of recognition or oferror. My relief when I saw his car ... my delight when I walked inand saw and _felt_ his mixture of surprise and joy that I had come,with disappointment and frustration because it was so late, and he hadto leave almost immediately. And my complete failure, in the midst ofthe complexities of these inter-reactions, to think logically, or torecognize that his ordinary perceptions were certainly the equivalentof my own....
At that moment, I wasn't thinking _about_ any of these things. I spenta delirious sort of five minute period absorbing his feelings aboutme, and releasing my own at him. I hadn't planned to do it, not sosoon, not till I knew much more than I did--perhaps after anotherweek's reading and going about--but when he said that since I'd gotthere so late for lunch, I'd _have_ to meet him for dinner, I found Iagreed with him perfectly.
* * * * *
That afternoon, I bought a dress. This, too, took a great deal oftime, even more than the car, because in the one case I simply had tolook at a number of component parts, and listen to the operation ofthe motor, and feel for the total response of the mechanism, todetermine whether it was suitable or not--but in the other, I hadnothing to guide me but my own untrained taste, and the dubiouspreferences of the salesgirl, plus what I _thought_ Larry's reactions_might_ be. Also, I had to determine, without seeming too ignorant,just what sort of dress might be suitable for a dinner date--andwithout knowing for sure just how elaborate Larry's plans for theevening might be.
I learned a lot, and was startled to find that I enjoyed myselftremendously. But I couldn't make up my mind, and bought three dressesinstead of one. It was after that, emboldened by pleasure and success,that I went back to that first drugstore. The Encyclopedia volume Ihad taken from the library, besides containing the information Iwanted on Colorado, had an article on Cosmetics. I decided powder wasunnecessary, although I could understand easily enough how importantit must be to the native women, with their thick skin and large poresand patchy coloring; that accounted for the fact that the men weremostly so much uglier ... and I wondered if Larry used it, and if thatwas why his skin looked so much better than the others'.
Most of the perfumes made me literally ill; a few were inoffensive ormildly pleasant, if you thought of them just as smells, and not assomething to be mistaken for one's _own_ smell. Apparently, though,from the amount of space given over to them on the counter, and thenumber of advertisements I had seen or heard for one brand or another,they were an essential item. I picked out a faint lavender scent, andthen bought some lipstick, mascara, and eyebrow pencil. On these lastpurchases, it was a relief to find that I had no opportunity todisplay my ignorance about nuances of coloring, or the merits of onebrand over another. The woman behind the counter knew exactly what Ishould have, and was not interested in hearing any of my opinions. Sheeven told me how to apply the mascara, which was helpful, since theother two were obvious, and anyhow I'd seen them used on television,and the lipstick especially I had seen women use since I'd been here.
It turned out to be a little more difficult than it looked, when Itried it. Cosmetics apparently take a good deal more experience thanclothing, if you want to have it look _right_. Right by _their_standards, I mean, so that your face becomes a formal design, and willregister only a minimum of actual emotion or response.
I was supposed to meet Larry in the cocktail lounge of a hotel inManitou Springs, the smaller town I'd passed through the day before onmy way down from the mountain. I drove back that way now, with all mypossessions in my new car, including the purse that held not only myremaining diamonds and birth certificate, but also a car registration,driver's license, wallet, money, and makeup. A little more thanhalfway there, I saw a motel with a "Vacancy" sign out, and anattractive clean look about it. I pulled in and got myself a room withno more concern than if I'd been doing that sort of thing all my life.
This time there was no question about my age, nor was there later onthat evening, in the cocktail lounge or anywhere else. I suppose itwas the lipstick that made the difference, plus a certain increase inself-confidence; apparently I wasn't too small to be an adult,provided I looked and acted like one.
The new room did not have a bathtub. There was a shower, which wasfun, but not as much as the tub had been. Dressing was _not_ fun, andwhen I was finished, the whole effect still didn't look right, interms of my own mental image of an Earth-woman dressed for a date.
It was the shoes, of course. This kind of dress wanted high heels. Ihad tried a pair in the store, and promptly rejected the whole notion.Now I wondered if I'd been too hasty, but I realized I could notconceivably have added that discomfort to the already-pressingdifficulties of stockings and garter belt.
This last problem got so acute when I sat down and tried to drive thecar, that I did some thinking about it, and decided to take them off.It seemed to me that I'd seen a lot of bare legs with flat heels. Itwas only with high heels that stockings were a real necessity. Anyhow,I pulled the car over to the side on an empty stretch of road, andwriggled out of things with a great deal of difficulty. I don'tbelieve it made much difference in my appearance. No one _seemed_ tonotice, and I do think the lack of heels was more important.
* * * * *
All of this has been easy to put down. The next part is harder: partlybecause it's so important; partly because it's personal; partlybecause I just don't remember it all as clearly.
Larry was waiting for me when I got to the hotel. He stood up andwalked over to me, looking at me as if I were the only person in theroom besides himself, or as if he'd been waiting all his life, andonly just that moment saw what it was he'd been waiting for. I don'tknow how I looked at him, but I know how I felt all of a sudden, and Idon't think I can express it very well.
It was odd, because of the barriers to communication. The way he feltand the way I did are not things to put into words, and although Icouldn't help but feel the impact of _his_ emotion, I
had to rememberthat he was deaf-and-blind to mine. All I could get from him for thatmatter, was a sort of generalized _noise_, loud but confused, withoutany features or details.
He smiled, and I smiled, and he said, "I didn't know if you'd reallycome ..." and I said, "Am I late?" and he said, "Not much. What do youwant to drink?"
I knew he meant something with alcohol in it, and I didn't dare, nottill I'd experimented all alone first.
"Could I get some orange juice?" I asked.
He smiled again. "You can get anything you want. You don't drink?" Hetook my arm, and walked me over to a booth in the back corner, andwent on without giving me a chance to answer. "No, of course youdon't. Just orange juice and milk. Listen, Tina, I've been scared toask you, but we might as well get it over with. How