"Impressive list," Jessica said. "I suppose I'll admit to a vice for chocolate and Italian food, and used record stores, too. But you can keep the romance novels." At least the heterosexual romance novels, Herself added.
"How about the bad science fiction?" Cat asked.
Jessica looked down, and picked at a piece of imaginary lint. "I have a confession to make," she whispered, rather sullenly. "I watched Ghidrah the Three Headed Monster today, and... I liked it," she said in a rush, hiding her face in pretended shame.
Cat laughed delightedly and threw her arms around Jessica for a quick hug. "I knew it," she exulted. "You have trashy impulses!"
"I guess I do," Jessica admitted. More than you know, she added to Herself. Your mind's in the gutter again, Herself noted. I like the gutter, she answered testily.
"What other trashy impulses do you have?" Cat pressed, grinning. "Come on, 'fess up, now."
"I — I like Merv Griffin."
"No!"
"Yes," Jessica insisted and Cat laughed gaily.
"That's too much. Hey, another Godzilla movie is on this Saturday. We should watch it together with the appropriate amount of popcorn."
"I didn't think I'd enjoy Godzilla so much," Jessica said sheepishly.
"So let's watch Godzilla sightsee Tokyo next Saturday."
"It's a date," Jessica said.
Cat began collecting the dishes and Jessica felt her words hanging in the air, even though Cat seemed to notice nothing. It was a kind of date. Maybe she'd bring flowers, maybe she'd begin to subtly court Cat.
But she didn't want to seduce her, overwhelm her. If she were a man, she wouldn't have to worry about making sure Cat was comfortable with the idea of loving her. If she pushed Cat along and they became lovers, Cat might wake up someday and tell her it had just been an interlude. She had to make sure Cat loved her, and accepted their relationship for what it would be: a lesbian relationship. That, after all, was why she'd never had a successful relationship. Maybe she and Marilyn could have been lovers if she had ever admitted they were lesbians. She smiled. That was behind her. She had never felt so good about who she was and what she was doing with her life.
She also knew she'd never felt so miserable and horny and tenuous, as if she were standing on the edge of a precipice. She'd either jump into the abyss or fall into Cat's arms.
They watched Charlie's Angels and bet on the plot. It seemed obvious to Jessica how the entire episode was going to run so she risked a Snickers bar.
"Jill will be in a car chase and the sleazeball will break down and admit he murdered all the stewardesses," Cat predicted.
"Kelly will be in the car chase and the sleazeball will break down and admit he murdered all the stewardesses," Jessica predicted. She was wrong. Jill was in the car chase; it was high drama.
"Okay, okay. I don't have a Snickers bar at the moment. But as soon as I do I'll pay you off," she promised.
"I'll charge interest," Cat threatened. "A Reese's Peanut Butter Cup for every day you're late."
"That's highway robbery!"
"Take it or leave it," Cat insisted, grinning.
"Okay, okay. Shylock," she accused.
"Welcher."
"Salesperson!"
"Consultant!"
"Well!" Jessica feigned great insult and swatted Cat. "I never!"
"It shows — isn't that the classic comeback?" Cat hopped up. "I've got some contracts to go over so I guess I'll go home. Promise me you'll go to bed by eleven. You think you're stronger, but you still look awfully pale."
"This is San Francisco. Everyone is pale in San Francisco."
"Not as pale as you are, silly," Cat said gently. "Promise me," she coaxed.
"Okay, Mommy. I'll go to bed at eleven," Jessica said. I'll read until I want to go to sleep, she thought.
"Good. Nighty-night."
She had nothing to wear. She was going to Cat's to watch the Godzilla movie and there was nothing to wear. She wanted to look pretty. She wanted Cat to notice her. She wanted Cat to be subtly aware of her body.
Jeans obviously were a must. Cat had introduced them into her life and she would wear them to honor her. Besides, they were comfortable. She remembered the 'Women Do It Better' T-shirt and put it on, tucking it into her jeans. And sighed. She looked like a stick. A particularly uninteresting stick in a cardigan. Her eyes were blue, but they weren't a very remarkable blue. Not like Elizabeth Taylor's. Her hair was so ordinary she hardly noticed it. Curly and brown, easy to take care of, but maybe she should consider something more dramatic, something less complacently professional. Using bobby pins, she pulled the sides back and flat so the top was still curly. Her face looked more square, but she looked overall less staid. Next week she'd get it cut differently.
Glancing at the clock, she dashed into the kitchen for the chilled pouilly-fuiss and the bundle of white roses. Tonight was a date of a sort, and she owed Cat so much — much more than just helping her when she was sick. She owed Cat for jeans, and T-shirts, and trashy science fiction movies. And for love and hope. She prayed that someday she could tell Cat just how much she owed her.
"Roses! Jessica, you shouldn't have," Cat protested, but her expression told Jessica that she loved roses.
"They're a thank you. You've been more than a friend over the last few weeks."
"It was easy to do. Well, my goodness. Thank you. And you brought my favorite wine, too." Cat led the way to the kitchen and clambered up onto the counter to find her best vase.
"Don't drop it and cut yourself," Jessica warned.
Cat laughed. "No, you filled the year's quota for that." She arranged the roses in the vase. "Tell me what you had to eat today."
Jessica recounted her menu, delighting in Cat's continuing concern. Cat had stopped fixing dinner every night, at Jessica's insistence, but she still wanted to know what Jessica ate.
"You need more leafy greens," Cat observed. "I like your hair, by the way."
"Thanks. I'm thinking of getting it cut." Don't blush, whatever you do, she told Herself.
"It would look good. Two minutes to Godzilla and counting. Let's pour some wine."
They each curled up in a corner of the couch with a bowl of popcorn between them. As the movie began, the phone rang.
"Merde! It never fails." Jessica turned the volume down while Cat answered the phone. "Hello? Oh. Hello, Jim." Jessica froze. Jim was Cat's new boss.
"What a shame. Oh. I thought my synopsis was very clear. Oh well, fire away. That complicated? No, now really isn't a good time, how about first thing Monday morning? I'm sorry, I'd forgotten about that. Well, sometime tomorrow, I could meet you at the hotel. Oh. Yes, I do understand how important the contract is. Of course. Of course. Very well." Cat's eyes were wide with dismay.
"Do you need my address? You have my file. Well, I'll see you in just a little bit." Cat hung up, and ran a slightly shaking hand through her hair. "What am I going to do, Jessica?"
"What did he say?"
"He's leaving for a corporate meeting tomorrow afternoon. He was going over material on a major contract for the meeting and has some questions too complex to discuss over the phone. He's on his way."
"You didn't tell me he'd been more persistent," Jessica said, anguished at Cat's quandary.
"He hasn't. A group of us went to lunch yesterday and he sat down the table, away from me. I didn't like the way he was watching me but I never thought he'd do this, call me at home. What am I going to do?"
"Well, I won't leave. Tell him I'm your roommate."
"He probably knows I live alone. Everyone knows that at work."
Jessica took a deep breath. She lectured on harassment and what was needed right now was a calm, objective approach. Inside, she was livid. Objectivity was hard when someone she loved was involved. "You shouldn't have to worry about how much your boss does or doesn't know about your personal life. He shouldn't be coming over at nine o'clock on a Saturday night. I won't leave. I'll play very obtuse and just s
it here. If he's on the level, I won't bother him one bit. We'll tell him my place is being fumigated and I have nowhere else to go."
"But you won't always be here, Jessica. What if he makes a pass and when I turn him down he fires me?"
"Then you sue his ass!" she said hotly. Then she calmed down. She wasn't going to help Cat by getting more upset. "If he's unpleasant tonight, you start a log of everything he says to you, how he addresses you differently from everyone else. Listen to me. I lecture on harassment, Cat. You can protect yourself. If you have to leave your job, then they owe you."
"I can find another job," Cat said, "I can. Maybe I should."
"Listen to me," Jessica said again. "I'm here. Don't run from him. If you do, he wins. And he gets to put the make on some other woman." She took Cat by the shoulders and gave her a little shake, like a trainer sending a prize fighter out into the ring. "You're strong and you can make things better for other women, especially those who can't find other jobs as readily, who can't risk being without a job for even two weeks."
Cat blinked and put her arms around Jessica, hugging her tightly. "Thank you. You're so strong. You make me feel like I can do anything."
Jessica tried not to go rigid. She tried to feel natural as she put her arms around Cat. It took great effort to not stroke the smooth back or the soft hair. She hugged Cat briskly instead and then pushed her away.
"I happen to think you're pretty strong, lady. You're stronger than some guy with overactive hormones and a power complex."
Cat smiled a little wanly and took a deep breath. "Let's hide the wine. I don't want to have to offer him any."
"Good. Stick to soda or coffee, and only if he asks. You're not entertaining him. And Cat —" She hesitated until Cat looked at her. "I won't leave. I don't care what he says, I won't leave."
"Thanks."
When the bell rang Cat answered the door promptly, opening it wide, smiling graciously. "I think it's terrible for you to have to work so late, especially when your wife must be missing you on a Saturday night."
Good, Cat, Jessica thought, you let him know you know he's married.
"Well, this contract is very important —" He broke off when he saw Jessica.
"Jim, this is Jessica Brian. Jessica, this is Jim Barton, our director of sales and marketing."
"How do you do," Jessica said guilelessly. The man had the eyes and the handshake of a fish. A dead fish.
"A pleasure to meet you," he said. There was an awkward silence. Jessica was distinctly aware that Jim was waiting for her to leave.
"We can spread the papers out on the table, Jim," Cat said, moving her centerpiece out of the way.
"Uh, this contract is very hush-hush," Jim said, looking at Jessica.
"Oh, don't mind me. I'm not in the hotel business. I'll just go back to watching the movie."
She plopped back down on the sofa and nibbled popcorn, even though she thought she would choke.
He said something in a low voice to Cat.
"Jessica's apartment is being fumigated so she's staying with me until she can go back," Cat said in a clear voice. "Let's get to work, shall we? It's already so late."
Jessica knew absolutely nothing about hotel management, but she knew enough about contracts to find his questions very stupid. Cat was careful, briskly professional, and meticulous in answering his questions. He stayed only thirty minutes, the last five spent slowly putting papers away, joking about people in the office.
"Weil," he said, "I thank you for being available to answer these questions. I'm glad I didn't interrupt anything important."
It was all Jessica could do to keep from snorting. Men were so stupid! Conversations between women were never important to them. If only they knew — perhaps it was better they didn't.
"I'll try to get my summaries to you sooner," Cat answered quietly, "so we don't have to do this again. Have a good trip." She closed the door.
Neither of them said anything until they heard the elevator cage doors open and close. Then Cat exhaled. "It's not my imagination, is it?"
"No, I don't think so," Jessica said. "I think you need that glass of wine now."
ELEVEN
What's Past Is Prologue
Each day Cat grew more jumpy. She would tell Jessica about interaction with Jim Barton and Jessica would boil the details down to factual statements they recorded. Looking at the printed words seemed to help Cat calm down and stop blaming herself for what was happening to her. Jessica hardly remembered her life before she met Cat, and now her day revolved around when Cat arrived home from work.
"We got a big contract today," Cat began slowly one chilly November evening. "It arrived all signed and I of course reported it to him in the due course of activities. He ... he hugged, all friendly like, but his hands were under my jacket, around my waist. I couldn't help myself, I pulled away." She stopped talking, and coughed. "I told him I didn't think it set a good example for my subordinates."
"And what did he say to that?" Jessica didn't meet Cat's eyes, partly to give Cat some privacy while she talked, partly because her own glittered with anger.
"He said What's a little hug between friends? I told him I tried to keep things very professional with my staff and I would appreciate it if he would help me uphold that image."
"Excellent," Jessica said warmly. She squeezed Cat's hand. "You're on record now."
Cat stood up abruptly and paced the living room. "But it didn't do any good. Before he went back to the office, he patted me, right here." Cat rubbed the small of her back.
"Have you seen him touch anyone else like that?"
"No. Never. I've watched."
"Has anyone seen him touch you?"
"The department secretary, a few other people. I want to quit," Cat said all in a rush, with another cough. "I'm going to get my resum6 out to the other hotels in the City. I don't have to take this."
"No, you sure as hell don't. But you don't have to leave, either."
"I've thought about it for a long time. I can't sleep at night, so I worry about what to do."
Lack of sleep accounted for the pale face and red eyes, Jessica decided.
"When I leave, I'll write a letter to the board of directors and to the general manager stating my reasons for leaving."
"But what about the other women in your department?"
"I heard through the grapevine that he left Dallas because of an unpleasant situation with a secretary. With my excellent record they might just believe me when I tell them why I'm leaving. I might keep him from getting promoted anywhere else, and have him watched. I don't want to go to court." Cat coughed again.
"I don't blame you. Even though a part of me thinks you should press your case and get him fired. If you change jobs for less money, you should be compensated. But I understand. Harassment cases take four to six years to settle because it's a whole new body of law." Jessica couldn't contain her concern and outrage any more. "But it just isn't fair to you!"
Cat went on pacing. "I know. But I want to put this behind me. I can't stand going to work anymore. I used to like my job and the people there."
"I do understand, Cat, I do," Jessica said intensely. Cat stopped to stare out the window and Jessica stood behind her, noting the line of Cat's face profiled against the stars. "It's as if you're being assaulted, every single day."
Cat turned in shock. "I don't want to think about it like that!"
"But how else can you think about it? He's forcing you to submit to his will by shutting oft your options," Jessica snapped. "I'm sorry, Cat. I'm not mad at you. I want to push him out a window." She reached for Cat, to hold her, to smooth the lines in her face away.
Cat stepped back. "I don't want you to think I'm a moral coward. I'm not, but I just don't have the energy to fight him and the entire corporation."
"You can do one thing to help your conscience," Jessica said, swallowing her hurt feelings. She had been forward to reach for Cat like that. "In your letter, state you'll cooper
ate with any internal inquiry if circumstances permit. It will be up to them, and they can't say you didn't give them a chance to rectify the situation."
"Okay. That sounds workable. Will you help me write the letter when the time comes?" Cat paused to cough and went on. "I can use your advice."
"Sure. I don't mean to push you. I hate to see you unhappy." Cat smiled wanly. "Are you coming down with a cold?" she asked.
"I don't think so, but I've had this cough all week."
"It might be stress," Jessica suggested.
"Probably," Cat agreed glumly. "I have a stack of contracts to go over, so I guess I'll go home. See you later." And she was gone.
Jessica changed into her fuzzy green robe, her favorite robe of all which she had unearthed for the cold San Francisco nights. It was luxury to lie on the sofa in her fuzzy green robe, reading poetry and sipping jasmine tea. Her mind would have been easier if she could have stopped worrying about Cat — but she did relax a little.
Never in her life had she wanted to protect someone so much. Never had she felt this way. I feel as if I'm dying, Herself said sadly. Unbidden, a quote came to her mind. She flipped forward a few pages and found the words in her anthology.
"Quess now who holds thee I Death, I said. But there the silver answer rang I not death, but love," Jessica read aloud. "I'm not half dead, I'm just half alive." The book slid through her fingers and she stared at the ceiling.
She had a choice. She could stop sitting around and mooning. All she needed to do was get up off her duff and get out into the network.
You know the network's there, Herself said. Take advantage of it.
Not yet, not quite yet.
What are you waiting for?
I don't know. Something to happen.
It's pointless.
Go away.
Herself sulked.
I like my body when it is with your body, she whispered in her mind. Muscles better and nerves more, she continued, her eyes closing. She could almost feel the silkiness of Cat's hair, the smoothness of her skin. She drifted, imagining, fantasizing.
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