Page 31 of Paradigm

“You have a wager?” Enya asked.

“Yeah. We’re going to the garage after I get my laptop. Eline is going to try to find fuckups in my code. She won’t, so I’ll win.”

“Huh?” Enya asked. “What happened to the two of you getting a drink?”

“We’re going to have those here. I’ll make a batch of margaritas before we get started.”

“I thought I only got one of those if I won,” Eline said, turning her head just slightly in Arlowe’s direction to give her a teasing smile.

“I’ll make them now. You can have another prize if you win, but since you won’t, I’m not too worried about it.”

“You’re very confident for someone whose bug I found and got a free month’s subscription for reporting.”

“That wasn’t my bug. I didn’t write that code.”

“Well, I have no idea what’s going on, but I’m grabbing a snack and eating it in my room,” Enya said and stood up. “Also, Arlowe, you have an office now. You don’t have to go to the garage anymore, in case you forgot. You two have fun with whatever weird thing you’ve got going on. And, Eline?”

“Yes?”

“It was really great to see you again.” Enya smiled soft­ly at her and then looked over at Arlowe for a moment. “Really great.”

“Thank you. You too.”

“So, I’m thinking that I should change into something you’re more used to seeing me in. Want a quick tour before I do that and grab my stuff so that we can get started?”

“Sure,” she replied, trying not to picture Arlowe taking off her clothes.

“So, this is the living room, obviously. We used to have four people living here, so we have two couches, but I think we’ll just keep both of them because Enya can lie on one, and I can take the other.” Arlowe stood. “The kitchen is in here.”

Eline followed her through an open doorway and into a modest kitchen with old brown cabinets mixed with some new stainless-steel appliances, including a standing mixer.

“Who’s the baker?” she asked.

“Oh, Enya. I can’t bake anything, but whenever she’s a bit of a mess, she tends to bake. The garage is through there.” Arlowe pointed to the closed door over by the refrigerator. “It’s mostly just our old desks and stuff now. Enya and I have been meaning to move everything out of there so that we can actually park our cars inside, but we haven’t gotten around to it yet.” Arlowe walked back to the living room and headed to the right. “And here is the main hallway. Enya’s room.” She pointed. “Enya’s office.” She pointed to another door. “And Enya’s bathroom that three of us used to share.” She pointed to a third door. “Then, there’s my office, where we’ll be because I still forget I have an office at home, and my room.”

Arlowe pointed to the last door before she walked into it. Eline followed her but stopped just inside that door, unsure if she should walk all the way inside Arlowe’s bedroom. The room itself screamed Arlowe. She had a framed poster on one wall of binary code that probably said something meaningful to her if translated, a giant TV on another, the third wall had two doors on it and no artwork, so probably the closet and the bathroom, and the wall behind Arlowe’s bed had an old yellow street sign that said, ‘Merge,’ on it.

“You actually did it,” Eline said with a headshake.

“Did what?” Arlowe asked as she walked to the dresser to pull out some clothes.

“The street sign.”

Eline pointed.

“Oh.” Arlowe laughed. “Yeah, I found it on some auction site and decided to just go for it. I figured, when I finally find a woman who’d actually tolerate being in a relationship with me, she probably wouldn’t like it, so if I wanted to do it, I had to do it now. I picked it up about a year ago.”

When Arlowe had been in Amsterdam, they’d binged-watched Friends together because neither of them had ever seen the show before, and there had been an episode where Chandler had suggested that he and Monica get a street sign for above their bed when they moved in together that would say, ‘Merge,’ because they would be merging. They had both laughed, but Arlowe had been the one to suggest that they actually do it. Of course, in Amsterdam, there were no street signs that said, ‘Merge,’ so she’d put a piece of paper where she’d written the word above her own bed, and they’d made love under it.

“Want some clothes to change into?” Arlowe asked. “I don’t usually code in slacks and a button-down, but maybe you do in a sweater and jeans.”

“I’m okay,” she replied, trying to push the memory of Arlowe being on top of her and inside her out of her mind.

“Okay. Well, I’m going to change.”

Arlowe looked at her, and there was an unreadable expression on her face.

“Oh, right. Sorry,” she said and turned around.