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Six

I HAD ANOTHER toke, and passed the bone to Snaker, and the light had changed and it was cooler in the room, even by the stove. "Well," I said, "as you can see, reefer not only makes you babble aimlessly, you get irresponsible: I've let my fires run down. You were wise to refuse it." I began to get up.

Snaker was already on his feet. "Sit, man. I'll get the wood, I did most of the talking." He refilled the kitchen firebox with small sticks, went out back for big wood for the Ashley.

"What were we talking about, again?"

"Whether or not I can stay here," she said seriously.

"Oh, hell yeah, sure you can," I said. "You don't even have to fuck me. That was a joke," I added hastily.

"I don't think so," she said. She was much more calm and serene again, now that she had her headband on.

I frowned. "Can I be completely honest with you?"

"I don't know." From another woman it might have been sarcasm, or irony. She meant that she didn't know.

"Well, I'll try, and I do better with honesty when I say it fast so pay attention: unlike Snaker I am not engaged to anybody and I would love to have sex with you at least once in the near future and maybe more but I am not in the market for any kind of romantic or even long-term sexual relationship but I am tremendously excited at the prospect of talking with a time traveler but you don't seem to want to tell me anything which is frustrating and furthermore I have some reservations about you as a roommate which are not particularly your fault but I'm a very ornery guy to live with, you have to be pretty tantric around me and unfortunately because of your cultural displacement and so forth you're not exactly the most tantric person in the world, but you wouldn't be in the way of anything and there's been a lot of cabin fever going around this winter, so for a while, hell, for as long as you want, you can stay, yeah, sure."

"Tantric? Which aspect of the Vedas—oh, you mean the sexual yogas?"

"Sorry. Hippie slang. Means, like . . ." I foundered. "Uh, intuitive. Sensitive. A tantric person can walk in and out of your bedroom without waking you up, can coexist with an angry drunk, becomes seamless with his own environment. Easy to get along with. Aware of the fine nuances of others' feelings. Perceptive of small clues. Also called telepathic." Her face changed subtly. "No offense, your manners are excellent, but you lack too much cultural context to notice subtleties the way an ideal roommate ought to. For all I know, I've got more in common with a Micmac. But I like you, and even though I'm kind of a hermit I'm willing to endure the aggravation of having you around for a while in exchange for the pleasure of your company. Besides, I don't know where the hell else you'd go."

"You're right. Your help will enormously simplify my work. Thank you for your hospitality, Sam." Her eyes were dreamy, slightly bloodshot.

"Tell me something: what the hell did you expect to happen?"

"How do you mean?"

"You materialize naked in the night on a cold hillside. Then what was the plan? What if I hadn't come along? How were you going to line up a place to live, a plausible identity, a set of long johns for that matter?"

"I intended to improvise."

I whistled. "You've got plenty of balls."

She blinked. "Just the one I came in."

"Sorry again. A sexist slang expression, meaning, 'you have audacity.' "

The word "sexist" puzzled her too, but she let it pass. "More like necessity. I had to come through naked if I was to come at all."

That was odd. If all she could bring back was herself, not even clothes, not even hair, how come the headband dingus had come along? Did that imply that it was—

—I forgot the matter. She was still talking: "That limited my options. I hoped to conceal myself in the woods and reconnoiter until I could plausibly construct an identity."

"Like I said, you've got balls. Courage."

Snaker came in with an armload, shedding bark and snow and breathing steam. I'd heard him filling up the woodbox out in the back hall while I talked with Rachel. "There's oil spilled over your kitchen wood stash out here, so I swapped it for fresh. Did you know the west roof of your woodshed's gone?" he asked cheerfully.

I rolled my eyes. "Jesus T. Murphy and His traveling flea circus. I think I'll just go back to sleep and try this day over again tomorrow." Rachel giggled—which I thought was rather out of character for her. I'd thought I was supposed to avoid whimsy.

"Bullshit," Snaker said. "We've got to build Rachel a cover story. Relax—I threw a tarp over the wood on that side. Besides, the wind hardly ever comes west this time of year. Except when it does. Make more coffee and let's get to work."

"Are you in a hurry, Snaker?" she asked drowsily.

"Eh? No. I live in a commune, none of us is ever in a hurry. Why?"

"I'd like your help in building a good persona, but first Sam and I want to have sex."

There was a silence.

"Have I been untantric again? You did say the near future, Sam?"

"I'll just leave you two alone and go feed the other stove for a while," Snaker said carefully.

"If you wish," she said, just as carefully. Her almond eyes were wide.

Snaker hesitated. "You don't mind if I stay?"

"Not if you want to. Three is good. Odd numbers are always good."

He smiled apologetically. "My Ruby and I are monogamous. I won't risk our relationship for anything, even for the thrill of making it with a beautiful time traveler. She's too important to me." He swallowed. "But our agreement is, we're allowed to look." He met my eyes. "You mind?"

I thought about it. "I don't believe I do." My penis certainly didn't seem to mind. "But I'm damned if I'm going to do it here. The floor's cold, and someone might drop in."

So we all adjourned to the upstairs bedroom. Snaker forgot to feed the living room fire, carried the armload of wood upstairs because he forgot he had it in his arms, and had to go back down again.

He hurried back up.

 

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