Chapter
six
Fritz
had a certain disregard for women. He hid it fairly well, in his opinion, but
his mother had given him a bad first impression of them. He acknowledged that
his prejudice was illogical. He reasoned that it must have been some aspect of
his psyche that was irrational and emotional, and so he regarded it with a
certain sentimental lenience. So long as he was sure that no judgement that he
passed on anyone was unmerited, he could allow himself to FEEL however he chose
regarding his boss, for instance, because he knew that feelings were
inconsequential.
This
defense mechanism worked very well in defending his sanctity of mind when he
had to put up with his boss's entirely irrational blame for what had happened
with his computer. He admitted to Stephanie Barker that he had probably been the last person to use
his desktop, presumably.
“Presumably?”
she glared at him with a maniacal look that, whilst he acknowledged the
validity of her reasoning, seemed a bit too controlling for his tastes.
Stephanie's bespectacled, mathematical eyes, fixed perpetually in an analytical
and almost tired hardness that juxtaposed the gentleness of their physical
form, always made him question her sanity somewhat. “Don't be sarcastic,” she
ordered.
He
decided to surrender arguing with his boss. He could not, however, hide his
aggression, and he could tell that Steph was reading him.
“Now
I need for you to find a way of restoring your hardware to working order within
the day, or disciplinary action Will be taken,” she said in almost a mockery of
gentleness, effectively removing her fate from his, leaving him wide-eyed in
disbelief.
“If
I get it fixed, does that mean you don't want me to finish my project today?”
She shook her head in a sarcastic imitation of pity whose every betrayal of
feminine tenderness only served to strike him as nothing short of conniving and
bitchy. “Remember that it is your
responsibility. Okay?” She looked at him with almost a kind of incisive
flirtation. He felt a fleeting moment of attraction, a brief, intimate fantasy
running across his mind, which an entirely different part of his mind hoped to
Science that she could not see.
“Okay,”
he continued, looking slightly away, trying to make his voice civil.
“I
need you to look at me,” Stephanie
said.
He
looked up at her. How she had appeared attractive seconds before seemed lost to
him now, as he saw merely a bucktoothed girl masquerading as an adult.
“Okay,”
he resumed. “Does this mean that I can leave the building, so that I can get it
fixed?”
Steph's
eyes sunk again into their most unyielding tone. “I'm afraid not.”
Instinct
betrayed him this time. His arms just seemed to fly up into the air involuntarily.
Steph returned her gaze to her desk. “You have until eleven tonight.
Understand?”
Naturally, he thought. You go home at nine, don't you?
Dm.A.A.
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