S.D. Youngren - Rowena 5 - Rowena Moves Closer.txt

by Rowena Moves Closer

  "The ZIPPY ZIPPY ZIPPY ZIPPY Difference!

  For a ZIPPY ZIPPY ZIPPY work day!"

  "All right! Now tell me what's different." She turned away again and when she turned back she had added a big red clown nose to the fright wig. Nobody laughed.

  "What's different?" she asked. "Any volunteers?" She waited just a little too long for comfort. "Nobody?"

  "You put on a false nose." Rowena turned, startled, to see everybody else turning too; the speaker was Eloise. Eloise, who even before the entire room was staring at her sat red-faced and looking even tenser than usual.

  "Right!" squealed Annette, as if nothing strange were going on. "A false nose! So let's all sing the ZIPPY Difference Song!"

  "All of us," Eloise put in, pointedly. She made a grimace Rowena took to be a forced smile; evidently Eloise had decided to help Annette out, either from sympathy or dedication to her job. She lived, after all, for Rorschach & Schmed. She and Annette launched into the ZIPPY Difference Song, Eloise glaring around the room to see that everybody joined in.

  Apparently everybody did.

  "If I hadn't seen it," Berna muttered at the song's conclusion, "I wouldn't have believed it."

  "Mmmm." Rowena was afraid to move her mouth, except on command. She wondered whether this really was intended to be fun, or whether somebody was having a very elaborate and perhaps rather expensive joke.

  Annette clapped her hands, delighted. "Very good!" she said. "Now it's your turn!" Rowena looked at her, warily, as Annette went on to explain that they were to divide into pairs, that each partner would turn away from the other, change his or her appearance in some way, and then turn back again. "And if your partner says you've guessed correctly what's different about him or her, you yell out, `ZIPPEE!'"

  "ZIPPEE!" yelled Eloise, frantically. Berna muttered something Rowena didn't catch.

  "Change is nothing to be afraid of," Annette said. "Change can be the best thing that ever happened to you! And it can be fun!

  "Now, let's start finding Differences."

  "You my partner, Rowena?" Berna asked. "I hope?"

  "Sure." Rowena took a last look at the brochure, then closed it. Steve had been right; ZIPPY Office had nothing to do with his job, or Rowena's--or Berna's, either.

  "Okay!" said Annette. "Let's get started! Everybody stand up." She made "up-up" motions with her hands. "Even the Fuddy-Duddy! C'mon!"

  Rowena stood and turned towards Berna. "Okay, partner," she said. She ignored Leslie Campbell's voice, insistently calling her name, and likewise Annette's, asking him why he didn't pair up with somebody next to him.

  "Campbell," snarled Eloise, tightly.

  "Nothing different there," Berna said.

  Rowena was glad when Annette announced lunchtime. She undid her last "difference"--she'd moved her watch to her other wrist--and followed with her eyes as several hotel employees filed in with sandwiches and salads.

  "About time," Berna muttered.

  "Hey, Rowena." It was Leslie Campbell, a good deal too close. "Come here."

  "Sorry," Rowena said.

  "Berna," said Leslie. "Sara. Excuse us."

  "Can't you take a hint?" Berna demanded.

  Leslie sidled up, closer. "Rowena," he said, his voice lowered. "Have any plans for lunch?"

  "Yeah," Rowena said. "I'm gonna eat."

  "She's giving us a whole hour," Leslie said.

  "So? I won't end up going hungry."

  "Rowena. This is a hotel."

  "So?" She glared at him. He didn't seem to notice.

  "So they've got . . . hotel rooms. We could, um . . . while we're here . . ."

  "No," said Rowena. "We could not."

  "Oh, come on."

  "Leslie, what is the matter with you? I am not interested. I have a boyfriend. And besides, I am not interested."

  "Come on. Give me a break."

  "Give me a break," Rowena said.

  "But--"

  "What makes you think I want to mess with somebody who doesn't even care whether I want to mess with him or not?" Rowena demanded. Not very quietly. People turned to look. "Besides," she added, in a somewhat lower tone, "you're a Fuddy-Duddy."

  Leslie looked at her, uncertain, apparently, whether she was serious. One hand went up to the hat Annette had put on him for not wanting to pair up with Jim, then hesitantly came back down.

  "Leslie," said Berna, with remarkable gravity, "why don't you just slink away as if you think you have some dignity?" He glared at her, opened his mouth, then closed it and followed her advice.

  "C'mon," said Berna to Rowena. "Lunchtime." They each took a plate and, after eyeing the offerings a moment, made their choices.

  "Hi, I'm Boris, head of IS. I'll be putting Zippy Office on your computers." And Boris from IS, who hadn't bothered to come up to the front of the room, sat back down.

  "Boris?" asked Annette sweetly. "Don't you have anything else to say? About ZIPPY Office?" This last appeared to be a prompt.

  Boris only shrugged. "Like what?"

  "Like, how much more productive everybody's gonna be, and how much fun they'll all have with ZIPPY Office . . ."

  Boris gave another shrug. "Depends on if it's any good," he said. Beside Rowena, Berna made a small strangled sound, as if she were trying not to laugh. Rowena noticed Eloise glaring in their direction.

  "You okay, Berna?" she asked solicitously. Berna nodded and sat up straighter. She and Rowena dutifully directed their attention to the front of the room, where Annette was taking another Fuddy-Duddy hat out of her box and advancing on Boris.

  "Don't you dare," Boris said. Annette faltered, then retreated to her box and replaced the hat. Berna made another choking noise and Sara whistled under her breath.

  "You happen to know if Boris has a girlfriend or anything?" she asked. Rowena shook her head. Berna said nothing. "Berna?"

  "I don't think I've ever spoken to anybody from IS," Berna said.

  "Um, I have a question? For Boris?"

  "What's your name and department?" asked Annette, evidently pleased to be getting back into control.

  "Fred, from Marketing. Are you gonna put this thing--"

  "ZIPPY Office," prompted Annette.

  "Yeah, well, are you gonna put it on the network, or on our individual computers?"

  "Dunno," Boris said. He gave Annette a look that was decidedly challenging. Annette cleared her throat.

  "Well!" she said. "Let me give the meeting back to our next team member, Eloise!"

  A low rumble went around the room; a very soft groan, magnified many times. Eloise came to the front.

  "Thank you, Annette," she said, and addressed the assemblage. "I am Eloise, Mr. Schmed's Personal Secretary. Mr. Schmed was so looking forward to this little meeting, but unfortunately he is not able to come." She paused; waiting, Rowena suspected, for everyone to express disappointment. As usual when Eloise was facing them, everyone tried to express nothing. Even Berna--sort of.

  "Poor Mr. Schmed," Berna muttered, under her breath. "The lucky stiff."

  "But he sends his regards and hopes you are all well." Eloise flipped through her notepad, scowling. "Apparently ZIPPY Office isn't actually quite ready yet, but when it is, we'll be converting over to it. Annette tells me that their R&D department is working overtime to be sure and meet the deadline, which is, ah . . ." Eloise looked over at Annette, who only smiled brightly, and then at Boris, who shrugged disinterestedly. She referred back to her pad.

  "So when we adopt ZIPPY Office, I expect you all to learn it promptly and use it happily. Any questions?" She looked carefully out at the crowd as if she thought somebody might say something. "Very well. Then let's all sing the ZIPPY Difference Song."

  And, without enthusiasm, they did.

  "So then Sylvia gives us a little speech about Wonderful Opportunities and how excited Mr. Rorschach and Mr. Schmed are about all this," Rowena told Terese later. "As if a) we're actually going to believe they think any of this is exciting, and b) we'd be c
ommitting some kind of treason if we don't get excited too. And then Annette goes into this great big spiel, on and on about how We've Already Seen That Changes Don't Have To Be Scary; Now Let's See What ZIPPY Office Can do For You and How To Use ZIPPY Office--"

  "None of which, of course, had anything to do with you," Terese said.

  "None of which had anything to do with me, or at least half a dozen other people, and none of which was especially helpful to those of us it did pertain to. She must have talked for 45 minutes about how to use the stuff without actually explaining how to use the stuff--what to do to make it work. Which you would think would be the point."

  "You would think."

  "So now we're all big experts on . . . well, nothing, really. Except we know what it's called, and how they're promoting it."

  "Whatever it is."

  "Whatever it's going to be." Rowena lifted her teacup--Terese, the coffee fanatic, kept a lone but proper teacup for Rowena's visits, as a sort of joke--and took a sip. "Eloise never did calm down. Apparently she's got the idea that the future of Rorschach & Schmed hangs on everybody's acceptance of ZIPPY Office--not ZIPPY Office per se, but The New System. Anybody not showing enthusiasm was threatening to drag the whole company down."

  "That must have been rough on her," Terese remarked, "having not only to put up with all that nonsense, but to throw herself into it."

  "Rough is not the word. If she manages to come in tomorrow, it'll be through force of will alone." Rowena took another sip. "The terrible thing is, I have a funny feeling she doesn't like ZIPPY Office, even aside from the presentation."

  "You know," Terese said, "I wouldn't be surprised."

  "On the bright side," Rowena said, "I also got to see how Steve, Leslie, and Marjorie look in Fuddy-Duddy hats."

  Terese laughed. "Marjorie, too?"

  "She had the temerity to ask how to use ZIPPY Office."

  Terese put down her coffee cup, hastily. "What nerve," she said.

  "For a minute I thought Leslie Campbell was going to have to wear two of them, when he tried to hit on Annette after the presentation. But she only gave him a dirty look. Which for her, I expect, was actually pretty extreme."

  "He hit on somebody besides you?" Terese asked. "There was almost Another Woman?"

  "I wouldn't say `almost.'"

  "Is he trying to make you jealous?"

  "He's welcome to try, if that's what it is. Maybe somebody will punch him, eventually."

  Terese shook her head, laughing. "Well, you've survived the presentation; I guess you'll just have to survive that. The presentation is over?"

  "All over," Rowena said. "I'm free of it. With any luck, I won't have to go to any more presentations, demonstrations, indoctrinations, ruinations or defenestrations for . . . well, for quite a while."

  "Good." Terese got to her feet. "Now wanna see my surprise?"

  "Sure." Rowena stood. "Lead the way."

  What Terese led her to was the computer, sitting innocently in the corner of the room. "See?" said Terese. "I got this new suite of applications, which . . . want a demonstration?"

  "I'll get you for this," Rowena said.

  "I won't make you sing any songs," promised Terese. "Or change your appearance. I won't pay you, either, but that's beside the point."

  "No hats?"

  "No hats."

  Rowena settled herself before the monitor. "Fire away," she said.

  Rowena Has An Accident

  Fiction by S. D. Youngren

  --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Rowena and Sammy stopped to let Linus examine a signpost. "Wasn't this where we saw somebody walking a rabbit on a leash?" Sammy asked.

  Rowena laughed. "I think so. And he was sniffing around, just like a dog, and we wondered how dog urine smelled to him."

  "I still wonder." Linus finished with the post, and they walked on. "And I wonder if you need to take a plastic bag with you when you walk a rabbit."

  "Dunno," said Rowena, "but if they catch you, you won't be able to blame the beagle next door." Linus, as she spoke, veered off to a flower bed. "I'd be afraid to walk a rabbit outside, with all the dogs and everything."

  "You hear that, Linus, you thug, you?"

  Linus was not a very big dog, and certainly not a fierce one. "Thug, indeed," said Rowena. "To a fly, maybe."

  Sammy had come over for dinner; he was going to spend the night. When they were able to spend the night together Sammy usually came to Rowena's; it was easier for him to leave his cat alone than for Rowena to leave her dog. "Speciesism," Sammy had said once. "Shame, shame." He hadn't helped much with the cooking tonight, but he had done the dishes for her. And now they were taking Linus for a walk.

  "Ever try to walk a cat?" Rowena asked.

  "God, no."

  "They tell me that some people do."

  "I've heard that one, too," Sammy said. "It's just an ugly rumor." Rowena laughed.

  "Or a conspiracy, maybe," she suggested. "I haven't heard any cat conspiracies lately."

  "Some people think," Sammy told her, "that cats are full of conspiracies."

  "So they do," she said, laughing. "What do you think, Linus?" But Linus only pushed his nose farther into an ivy bed and pretended he hadn't heard.

  Rowena raised her head and looked at Sammy in mock defiance. "Nope," she said. "That's it. That's all you get." She sat up and crossed her arms. Sammy waggled his finger at her and she laughed, bent again to take him back into her mouth, and sat up again almost immediately. "You don't believe me," she said. "You never do."

  "Not as long as you keep giggling like that." She laughed again and lowered her mouth back onto him, all the way down. She moved her tongue in a way she knew he liked and listened to him gasp. Both his hands in her hair . . .

  He gasped again, pushed at her. "Hey. You're too much for me." She smiled at him, moved up his body, sat down just above his knees. He reached for a condom, took it from the package, and put it on. He motioned her nearer.

  "But you just said--" He slipped a hand between her legs and it was her turn to gasp. He helped her move forward and she positioned herself above him. She paused a moment to look at him; this was as close as she would come to teasing him for a while; for a while--

  And down she went, and any thoughts, for a while--

  But she loves the way he looks at her.

  And the way--that too, and his hands his mouth eyes and in his voice he says--

  He pulls her underneath him, strong he goes and her legs up and then deep he is and--

  She is no longer so embarrassed about the sounds she makes. Not quite.

  He came as her own orgasm tapered off. She held onto him, feeling little under the circumstances of his own pulsing inside her but happy, more than happy; close to tears. And more than close. And after a while Sammy gave her a sort of goodbye kiss and gently withdrew. He sat up, and Rowena, turning to him, started to speak but stopped abruptly.

  He was pulling at the condom's rolled end, working it up his penis. But she could see the other end hanging down much farther than it should have, much lower. The entire head of his penis had punched through.

  Rowena sat up. "Oh, Sammy."

  He looked at her. "Sorry, Sweetheart."

  "Did--couldn't--oh, God." She closed her eyes and caught hold of the top of her head. She tried to remember when she'd had her last period.

  "Don't worry, Beaut," she heard Sammy say. "We'll be all right."

  "Uh-huh." She could feel herself shaking. She heard the condom come off and in a moment Sammy's arm was around her.

  "Remember how my mom made me get tested?" This had been just before they'd met, when he'd had two bad colds in a month. "The worst thing I could give you is a baby."

  "Is that all?"

  "If that happens, now or whenever, I will marry you."

  Rowena felt even stranger. He sounded so earnest. It was too--

  "How can you just say that?" she asked
. "I'd still be pregnant," she told him. "Oh, Sammy," she said.

  "Come here." He pulled her onto his lap and put both arms around her. "I love you very, very much," he said. "I will take care of you."

  "But . . ."