Chapter Four: Portia Robinson
"Portia, why are you a faith birth?" Jerome asked her as they were finishing off a piece of chocolate cake at a restaurant by Portia's apartment building.
"Oh I'll talk about it," she said, her mouth full of cake. "Well, my entire family's devout Catholic. Not that they're poor or anything, but they oppose it. They all think it's against God's will. In my opinion, I say that it is. But, in a way it is okay. I mean, it's our evolution into higher beings. In the Bible it says that we're made in God's image. . .Do you understand?"
"I don't think I do," he said, getting to be very confused.
"I mean, I think that God wants us to intrude. Change ourselves, make ourselves a bit more like Him. I not only think we are completely messing around with God, I think God wants us to."
"You're contradicting yourself," he laughed.
"Huh? What?" She was getting quite confused, along with Jerome.
"Never mind, I'm quite confused. So what you're saying is that you want your child to be a made-man?" he asked.
She started to laugh out loud, "Wow, already talking about sex, eh? We just met five hours ago or so!"
Jerome was embarrassed, "Oh no, I didn't mean that, I just. . ."
Giggling, she said, "I'm just kidding."
He was very relieved at this, because he hated to talk about subjects like sex. Maybe it bothered him because everyone was obsessed with it and he had never even had it.
"Well maybe I'll marry and have a child with a VALID so it's a VALID also," she said while digging around at the piece of cake on the silver plate.
He looked at her if she meant him, but she wasn't looking at him. "Yeah, that's not a very good question, is it?"
Portia smiled and nodded, "No question is a bad question. Well, what religion are you?"
"Plain Christian or whatever it is, I guess," he hoped that was a satisfactory answer.
She looked impressed, "So, where do you live?"
"Aldiss Arms," he flatly said.
"The Aldiss? You live there?"
"Uh-huh," he took a big bite of cake.
"Wow."
"What university did you go to?" he asked.
"UCLA. Majored in creative writing."
"Are you a writer?"
"Well, I've had chronic writer's block for years. I have so many ideas and can't write them down. It's an awful feeling," Portia sighed.
"Why do you think you have writer's block?" he asked.
"I have no idea. Lack of inspiration, boredom, stress? I do not know. That ever happened to you?"
He ran his fingers through his hair. "I can't say I have. I've never written anything much, except for school."
"Did you do well in school?"
"I suppose so," he replied.
"Well of course you did, what a stupid question," she laughed nervously. "Is your hair always messy, or did you do it that way?"
"Oh no, I can't do my hair at all. It's ridiculous. I hate it. I should just shave it off and stop worrying about it, shouldn't I?" he asked.
"God no! It's the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen!" her eyes widened.
"You mean it?"
"Yeah, I mean, all these guys these days slick back their hair and it looks gross, all greasy and slick. But yours is all spiky and wild and perfect. I think it's quite cool," she smiled.
"Everyone always bugs me about it, that I should get it under control," he frowned.
"Oh don't let anyone else tell you what to do," she put the fork down. "My gosh, I ate too much cake. Did you get enough? I practically ate the whole slice."
"I got plenty," he smiled.
"You know, you've got just about the prettiest eyes I've ever seen. Are they green, or blue? Because they keep changing," Portia said.
"I know, in some pictures they look green, but they're blue."
"They look deep blue to me. They're gorgeous."
"Thank you. You've got very nice eyes also," he said.
"Oh thank you," she blushed.
"You blushed!" he flirtatiously said.
"Yeah, I know," she rested her chin in her hand, and looked right at him with a content look on her face.
"What?" he leaned in closer to her.
"I like you," she whispered.
"How so?" he whispered back.
"I think you're interesting and smart and funny and cute, and I like being around you," Portia smiled.
"Same here."
"Same what?"
"I think the same of you, Portia," he leaned in even closer to her.
"Really?"
"Why, of course. I would have said it the same way that you did."
"Oh, that's good."
He sat up straight and grinned. "Yes it is."
Portia asked, "What time is it?"
He looked at his watch and said, "Eleven thirty PM."
She stood up, "Damn, I need to go! YOU need to go!"
Jerome left money on the table and followed her out of the restaurant. She spun around, "Oh, you're gonna' walk me to my flat! You're such a gentleman."
They walked out to the sidewalk, passed two buildings, and they were soon at her apartment building. He opened the door for her, and she smiled kindly at him. They both walked to the elevator, she pushed the five button, and the door closed. They were all alone.
"So what are you doing tomorrow night?" he asked.
"Nothing. Do you want to see a movie?"
"That's exactly what I was going to ask," he laughed.
"Ah, to imagine that I think like a VALID," she smiled.
Looking nervously at his feet, he said, "Well if it is any compliment, I was never able to distinguish VALID from INVALID. They all look the same to me."
"Nah, all those VALID women are pretty and skinny and in perfect shape."
"Oh you're wrong, they have no shape. They are walking stick insects."
Portia blushed and grinned at him approvingly. "I have really bad allergies. That's what's the main problem with me. I used to have really bad asthma when I was a kid. Couldn't run at all. I was this sick, shrimpy girl, pale and unhealthy. I couldn't even play sports like soccer or softball with the other girls. It went away when I was eleven or twelve. But I never played a sport in high school. I wasn't active enough as a child and never got good enough at any sport. And, my metabolism is all out of whack."
"Well, my nose is pointy."
She looked at him from the side, admiring his profile. "Oh no, you have a marvelous perfect nose. I wish I had one like yours. But I have the genetic defect huge Italian nose."
"But I have hairy arms," he said.
She picked up one of his arms and rolled up the sleeve. "No big flaw. Don't all men?"
"I have a hairy chest."
"Wow. There is something wrong with you," she laughed. The door opened and she walked out, followed by him. Her flat was right by the elevator, and she unlocked the door the old-fashioned way. (There were no blood sampling locks on the door, that could only meant it was a mainly INVALID building.)
"Well, thank you for dinner. I had a marvelous time with you," she said.
"I had a good time too." He tried to find something good to say, because he was so nervous. "I. . .You. . .You're very fun and interesting."
"Oh you too," she said. There was an uncomfortable pause. He had no idea whether to give her a good night kiss or not.
Jerome was abruptly interrupted by Portia, who gave him a quick small kiss on the lips. Not a big sloppy one, just a peck. Then she quietly said, "See ya' tomorrow at 7:30?"
He was in a daze, so happy he wanted to scream out loud. His lips were still puckered as he nodded stupidly. "Uh-huh. . ."
She grinned and walked into the door. "Good night, Morrow." It clicked shut, and he stood there for a moment. Then he turned away and left, still in sheer and utter bliss. It was the happiest he had been in a very long time.
"Portia, why are you a faith birth?" Jerome asked her as they were finishing off a piece of chocolate cake at a restaurant by Portia's apartment building.
"Oh I'll talk about it," she said, her mouth full of cake. "Well, my entire family's devout Catholic. Not that they're poor or anything, but they oppose it. They all think it's against God's will. In my opinion, I say that it is. But, in a way it is okay. I mean, it's our evolution into higher beings. In the Bible it says that we're made in God's image. . .Do you understand?"
"I don't think I do," he said, getting to be very confused.
"I mean, I think that God wants us to intrude. Change ourselves, make ourselves a bit more like Him. I not only think we are completely messing around with God, I think God wants us to."
"You're contradicting yourself," he laughed.
"Huh? What?" She was getting quite confused, along with Jerome.
"Never mind, I'm quite confused. So what you're saying is that you want your child to be a made-man?" he asked.
She started to laugh out loud, "Wow, already talking about sex, eh? We just met five hours ago or so!"
Jerome was embarrassed, "Oh no, I didn't mean that, I just. . ."
Giggling, she said, "I'm just kidding."
He was very relieved at this, because he hated to talk about subjects like sex. Maybe it bothered him because everyone was obsessed with it and he had never even had it.
"Well maybe I'll marry and have a child with a VALID so it's a VALID also," she said while digging around at the piece of cake on the silver plate.
He looked at her if she meant him, but she wasn't looking at him. "Yeah, that's not a very good question, is it?"
Portia smiled and nodded, "No question is a bad question. Well, what religion are you?"
"Plain Christian or whatever it is, I guess," he hoped that was a satisfactory answer.
She looked impressed, "So, where do you live?"
"Aldiss Arms," he flatly said.
"The Aldiss? You live there?"
"Uh-huh," he took a big bite of cake.
"Wow."
"What university did you go to?" he asked.
"UCLA. Majored in creative writing."
"Are you a writer?"
"Well, I've had chronic writer's block for years. I have so many ideas and can't write them down. It's an awful feeling," Portia sighed.
"Why do you think you have writer's block?" he asked.
"I have no idea. Lack of inspiration, boredom, stress? I do not know. That ever happened to you?"
He ran his fingers through his hair. "I can't say I have. I've never written anything much, except for school."
"Did you do well in school?"
"I suppose so," he replied.
"Well of course you did, what a stupid question," she laughed nervously. "Is your hair always messy, or did you do it that way?"
"Oh no, I can't do my hair at all. It's ridiculous. I hate it. I should just shave it off and stop worrying about it, shouldn't I?" he asked.
"God no! It's the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen!" her eyes widened.
"You mean it?"
"Yeah, I mean, all these guys these days slick back their hair and it looks gross, all greasy and slick. But yours is all spiky and wild and perfect. I think it's quite cool," she smiled.
"Everyone always bugs me about it, that I should get it under control," he frowned.
"Oh don't let anyone else tell you what to do," she put the fork down. "My gosh, I ate too much cake. Did you get enough? I practically ate the whole slice."
"I got plenty," he smiled.
"You know, you've got just about the prettiest eyes I've ever seen. Are they green, or blue? Because they keep changing," Portia said.
"I know, in some pictures they look green, but they're blue."
"They look deep blue to me. They're gorgeous."
"Thank you. You've got very nice eyes also," he said.
"Oh thank you," she blushed.
"You blushed!" he flirtatiously said.
"Yeah, I know," she rested her chin in her hand, and looked right at him with a content look on her face.
"What?" he leaned in closer to her.
"I like you," she whispered.
"How so?" he whispered back.
"I think you're interesting and smart and funny and cute, and I like being around you," Portia smiled.
"Same here."
"Same what?"
"I think the same of you, Portia," he leaned in even closer to her.
"Really?"
"Why, of course. I would have said it the same way that you did."
"Oh, that's good."
He sat up straight and grinned. "Yes it is."
Portia asked, "What time is it?"
He looked at his watch and said, "Eleven thirty PM."
She stood up, "Damn, I need to go! YOU need to go!"
Jerome left money on the table and followed her out of the restaurant. She spun around, "Oh, you're gonna' walk me to my flat! You're such a gentleman."
They walked out to the sidewalk, passed two buildings, and they were soon at her apartment building. He opened the door for her, and she smiled kindly at him. They both walked to the elevator, she pushed the five button, and the door closed. They were all alone.
"So what are you doing tomorrow night?" he asked.
"Nothing. Do you want to see a movie?"
"That's exactly what I was going to ask," he laughed.
"Ah, to imagine that I think like a VALID," she smiled.
Looking nervously at his feet, he said, "Well if it is any compliment, I was never able to distinguish VALID from INVALID. They all look the same to me."
"Nah, all those VALID women are pretty and skinny and in perfect shape."
"Oh you're wrong, they have no shape. They are walking stick insects."
Portia blushed and grinned at him approvingly. "I have really bad allergies. That's what's the main problem with me. I used to have really bad asthma when I was a kid. Couldn't run at all. I was this sick, shrimpy girl, pale and unhealthy. I couldn't even play sports like soccer or softball with the other girls. It went away when I was eleven or twelve. But I never played a sport in high school. I wasn't active enough as a child and never got good enough at any sport. And, my metabolism is all out of whack."
"Well, my nose is pointy."
She looked at him from the side, admiring his profile. "Oh no, you have a marvelous perfect nose. I wish I had one like yours. But I have the genetic defect huge Italian nose."
"But I have hairy arms," he said.
She picked up one of his arms and rolled up the sleeve. "No big flaw. Don't all men?"
"I have a hairy chest."
"Wow. There is something wrong with you," she laughed. The door opened and she walked out, followed by him. Her flat was right by the elevator, and she unlocked the door the old-fashioned way. (There were no blood sampling locks on the door, that could only meant it was a mainly INVALID building.)
"Well, thank you for dinner. I had a marvelous time with you," she said.
"I had a good time too." He tried to find something good to say, because he was so nervous. "I. . .You. . .You're very fun and interesting."
"Oh you too," she said. There was an uncomfortable pause. He had no idea whether to give her a good night kiss or not.
Jerome was abruptly interrupted by Portia, who gave him a quick small kiss on the lips. Not a big sloppy one, just a peck. Then she quietly said, "See ya' tomorrow at 7:30?"
He was in a daze, so happy he wanted to scream out loud. His lips were still puckered as he nodded stupidly. "Uh-huh. . ."
She grinned and walked into the door. "Good night, Morrow." It clicked shut, and he stood there for a moment. Then he turned away and left, still in sheer and utter bliss. It was the happiest he had been in a very long time.