“She said for you to come up.” “Okay. Got room next trip?” Chris shook his head. “The one after?” Same bit. “_No_ room, huh? She stays up, I stay down, right?” Chris never said a word. Johnny switched off and got out the bottle and picked up the darts, and started keeping score by how many belts it took to get a dart up. Damn things wouldn’t stick at all. PART ELEVEN _October 13-18, 1977_ _Dollars Dome--Thursday, October 13, 3:30_ P.M. “It bothered Chris too,” she said. “I’ll bet. And you can’t see why?” He watched her face with every bit of intelligence and knowledge at his command. He found nothing there but serenity--and some tenderness and amusement. “Phil, what on Earth--well, all right, what in Space--could _happen_? Am I supposed to be afraid of the dark?” “Everything spooky spooks worse in the dark,” he said. “And kid, this bit with you and the Shack has got spooky.” “Well, I don’t know what I can say to that.” She stood up, smiling, but a little impatient now. “Lee--suppose I say you _can’t_ go?” She did not seem to understand. “Suppose I _forbid_ you to?” “Phil!” It was complete in itself. The one word said it all. _By whose authority? With what right? For what reason? Darling--you’re fooling, aren’t you?_ “Suppose I said _Chris_ forbade it?” “You mean you want to know what I’d do if I were actually made to believe I _couldn’t_ go?” He nodded. She thought a moment. “I’d try anyhow. Then if I _couldn’t_--I mean, _really_ couldn’t--” She grinned. “--I wouldn’t.” _What does she want me to do? Throw my arms around her and hold her here?_ Maybe she did: it was a nice thought, anyhow. Her smile changed, and he remembered, sharply, too vividly, that one kiss the day she told him about-- The baby. _Johnny’s_ baby. “Phil, I suppose this is the time to say it. You are the kindest, most decent, most _loving_ human being I’ve ever known. Sometimes I wish it was you who needed me.” That was all. And it was enough. Of course that was the difference, and he had, really, always understood, just as well as he did now. But it mattered that she had told him. It mattered a great deal. “Thank you, Lisa. I _do_ love you very much.” The words tasted good. Fresh. _Pure._ He was glad he had said them. “I--almost wish I needed you too.” _But I’d rather love you._ When she was gone, he sat and studied that one out. He didn’t get very far. It was easy to analyze--simple masochistic crap. And/or false superiority: _Better to love and not have than to be needful and get?_ Feed that to the pigs--or the bugs. It wasn’t for Kutler. Except it was. So? _So nothing. So live with it. Someday you go back to Earth and get analyzed, lad. Till then, don’t try to understand. Relax and enjoy it._ Which was the damnedest part. He _did_ enjoy it.