This story is fiction, based on real people and real events in my life. It takes place in the pre-broadband era, ca. 1993.
*
Sara was a little butch, you know?
I don't mean she was a bull dyke, or anything, and I don't want to be thought of as judgmental about it. It's just that she had this disdain for men, dressed like a man, and generally just did not seem to radiate any femininity at all. She was also a little on the plump side, but overall not bad-looking. Even cute, in a strange sort of way.
Well, she and I were co-leads on a sizable computer project in a large IS department. We worked well enough together, even if the relationship was awfully formal. Then disaster struck, and things changed dramatically.
It was a Monday, and we had an implementation scheduled for the following weekend. That morning we heard the word - the contract firm that supplied the 4 programmers under us had gotten into a row with the head of our department, and had pulled all four of their contractors out that morning. That was a really stupid thing to do, because that firm will never do business with our agency again. Still, it left us understaffed and without time to train anyone new.
It was just Sara and me, and a couple of bodies we could co-opt to do grunt work. We were in for a loooong week.
Well, we were working 18-hour days and making great progress, when we got slammed again. Some idiots at the city power company took out the main downtown grid, no notice to anyone, and shut off the lights. Everything was dark. That was Friday evening, down to just Sara and me; and, even though we had the end in our sites, we had a solid day's worth of work still to do.
Fortunately - and this was the only silver lining - the mainframe we were working on was not downtown. It was at a data complex in another city. Since we had computers and modems at home, it wouldn't be that bad.
"Sara," I said, "I just want to make an offer here. I have two computers at home, and two phone lines. You're welcome to come work at my place, since we sort of need to be in the same room at the same time."
She hesitated. "Okay," she finally said. She had seen the logic in the offer, I suppose.
We drove to my home - separately - and got busy. It actually worked out pretty well, since I could set up my computers at the kitchen table, and we could talk to each other without yelling over a few cubicle walls.
About 2am, she started nodding off. I walked around to her side of the table and touched her arm. She jumped as if shot.
"Just me," I said as soothingly as I could. "You fell asleep."
She grumbled something unintelligible. I assumed she was arguing with me.
"Get on the couch," I commanded. When she resisted, I got very firm. "On the couch. You're not doing us any good right now, and if you're this tired you might screw something up. Get some sleep."
She glared at me, but it was a half-hearted glare. She was genuinely tired, and I suspect she was more than happy to lie down. She stretched out on the couch. I got a spare pillow and a blanket, and got her situated. "Aren't you the domestic one," she mumbled, and started snoring.
I sat at my terminal, started a job, and then dropped into my recliner. I figured a few minutes rest would be all that I needed.
I awoke at 9am to the smell of fresh coffee.
I was a little disoriented. I lived alone, and had for three years, since my wife died. I got up and saw Sara at the table.
"Hi," she said, sounding chipper and a little nervous. "I took the liberty of making some coffee."
"No, no, that's great," I said - or rather slurred. I'm not much good without my morning caffeine. "How long have you been up?"
"About an hour," she replied.
I excused myself to the bathroom. When I came back, there was coffee poured and waiting. Sara gave me a rundown on how things were going. All in all, we were doing well. I fixed us some breakfast, and we ate as we worked.
Suddenly, I chuckled in spite of myself.
"What's so funny?" Sara demanded.
"Nothing," I replied. "It's just... well, it's been a long time since I had breakfast with a beautiful woman." I instantly regretted saying that.
Sara got a little prickly. "I certainly hope you realize this is strictly business," she said icily.
"Of course," I said. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't help reminiscing. My wife and I used to sit in exactly the spots you and I occupy now."
"Oh," she said, softening a little. "So, where is she now?"
I looked at her for a moment, considering. "She died," I finally answered. "Three years ago. She was diagnosed with advanced ovarian cancer one day, and within a month she was dead."
Sara rested her face in her right hand. "I feel like such a bitch," she mumbled.
"Don't," I said. "It was just a pleasant... oh, I don't know. A little rush of nostalgia."
We worked on for a while. Out of the blue, she said, "No one has said that to me in a very long time."
I was concentrating on something at that moment, and I was confused. "I'm sorry? What was that?"
"I said, no one has said anything like that to me in a very long time." She was speaking softly.
I was still confused. "Said what to you?"
"Nothing," she said, blushing.
"No, no, I'm sorry, I really don't get it. Please, tell me," I implored. I hoped I wasn't begging.
