"Aldridge, Ray - Filter FeedersV1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Aldridge Ray)

For a long time after they were finished with their lunch, they sat there in uncomfortable silence. Teresa eventually concluded that Linda was unwilling to return to the glare and heat of the afternoon. "Well, I suppose I ought to be getting back to work," she said, tentatively.

Linda gave a tiny start, as though she had been sleeping with her eyes open. "I'm sorry. I was just thinking about what you said."

This was an unexpected flattery. Teresa raised her eyebrows.

"Actually," Linda went on, "the sailing isn't all that exciting, to be honest. Seen one wave, seen 'em all." A wounded smile. "And I get seasick."

"Why do you do it?" Teresa was very curious. She might have described her job at the Bugeyed Sailor in much the way Linda had described her life of high adventure. Seen one businessman from Louisiana, seen'em all. And the grease fumes made her sick.

Linda hesitated. "It's Thomas," she finally said.

"Oh," said Teresa, in deep disappointment. She took the check and slid to the edge of the booth, determined to get away before she had to hear a catalog of the mysterious Thomas's virtues. She didn't think she could stand it; she might scream, she might gag, she might run away and lose all dignity.

But Linda was oblivious. "Thomas made me appreciate my life. He made me understand that it hadn't been empty at all. That it had been as full as anyone's, as joyful as anyone's."

Teresa heard an ambiguous and eerie undertone in Linda's voice; she was startled from her annoyance. She couldn't think of a thing to say.

Nancy had been replaced by an ancient chain-smoking harridan and Teresa came to the uneasy realization that she was now the most nubile member of the Sailorman's crew. He watched her with a more-than-usually speculative eye, and contrived to rub his grubby bulk against her several times in the narrow aisle by the steam table; each time he adopted an expression of lascivious expectation that would have been ludicrous had it not been so frightening.

But at closing time he became embroiled in a near-brawl with a customer who'd found a sauteed roach in his chicken fingers. "You think I don't know what you're up to?" the Sailorman shouted. "You think you don't pay? You pay!"

The discussion became so acrimonious that the Sailorman never got around to molesting Teresa, and she slipped gratefully away.

Tomorrow would be her night off; she wouldn't have to deal with the Sailorman for two whole days. Maybe he'd hire another pretty young woman in the interim and be diverted. Otherwise she'd have to quit, tough job market or not. * * *

At the Chandlery, Bob set her to inventorying the stock in a rarely used storeroom and she spent the morning in dusty solitude. Occasionally she wondered about the white-haired woman and her mysterious lover Thomas. She felt an unaccustomed optimism; she told herself that her curiosity was a good sign. Perhaps it meant that her vocation was stirring after its long hibernation, perhaps she might revive her "career." She thought about attempting a short story, perhaps a small polemic on the dependent women who sailed around the world with their men . . . unhappy and always complaining, but never brave enough to leave their uncomfortable adventure.

She set her inventory sheet aside and considered the idea. Aside from the unusual setting, what would distinguish the story from the graduate student fiction that flooded the little magazines at the end of every semester? Women as willing victims, as whining appendages to men.

She felt her enthusiasm wane; she sighed and went back to counting turnbuckles.

A little later Linda came in on quiet feet and touched Teresa's shoulder, startling her so that she dropped her clipboard with a clatter.

"I'm sorry," Linda said, in her vague way.

"It's all right," Teresa said.

"Bob said I'd find you back here." Linda seemed quite uneasy, but her cheeks were a little flushed, her eyes were brighter, almost animated.

"Yes?"

"I told Thomas about you . . . about meeting you, I mean. He . . . we thought you might like to have dinner with us sometime. On the boat." She looked at Teresa anxiously.

Teresa found the invitation astonishing. Some of this might have shown in her face, because Linda evidently felt a need to explain further. "Thomas is a very good cook, actually." She looked away. "Thomas said you sounded very interesting."

This seemed entirely false to Teresa, who could not recall having said anything interesting to Linda. It occurred to her that perhaps she was receiving some sort of sexual invitation; Thomas sends the little woman ashore to fetch supplies, Thomas sends the little woman ashore to fetch a playmate.

"Well. . . ." Teresa said, trying to find a polite way to refuse.