Purity by Jonathan Franzen Page A

bragging about the famous actors he was meeting, she’d quietly severed communications with him. But now she saw that what mattered about celebrity was that other people were not immune to it: that they might be impressed with her connection to it, and that this might give her somewhat more than the zero power she currently felt she had. In a pleasantly seduced frame of mind, she waded back into her Rancho Ancho call sheet and deliberately refrained from checking her device, so as to prolong the anticipation.
    At her dinner break she found Wolf’s reply.
    I am seeing why Annagret likes you. My note would have reached you even faster if it hadn’t had to travel through four times the usual number of servers. Nowadays there is really only one habit of highly effective people: Don’t fall behind with email. Unfortunately, for security reasons, I can’t offer to video chat with you. More important, our Project needs risktakers with good judgement. You will have to judge for yourself the risk of trusting my emails. You may of course use every available internet tool to help you judge, and I can assure you, if you jump, we are here to catch you with open arms. But it is finally yours to decide whether to believe me. A.
    She noted with pleasure that he’d already dispensed with a salutation, and she did the same intimate thing in her reply.
    But trust goes both ways, right? Shouldn’t you also have to trust me ? Maybe we should each tell the other some little thing we’re ashamed of. I’ll even go first. My real name is Purity. I’m so ashamed of it I always hold on tight to my wallet when I take it out with friends, because sometimes people grab wallets to make fun of people’s driver’s license pictures, and my name is on the license.
    How about that, Mr. Purity? Now it’s your turn.
    Too giddy with temerity to eat, she marched down the hall to Igor’s office. He was packing his briefcase, his day already done. He frowned when he saw her.
    â€œYeah, I know,” she said. “I haven’t washed my hair in three days.”
    â€œYour stomach’s better? You’re not contagious?”
    She plopped herself down in a guest chair. “So listen. Igor. Your twenty questions.”
    â€œLet’s forget that,” he said quickly.
    â€œThe thing you wanted from me, that I was supposed to guess. What was it?”
    â€œPip, I’m sorry. I’m taking my sons to the A’s game. This is not a good time.”
    â€œI was just kidding about the lawsuit.”
    â€œAre you really feeling all right? You don’t seem like yourself.”
    â€œAre you going to answer the question?”
    Igor’s look of fear was reminiscent of Stephen’s two nights earlier. “If you need more time off, you can take it. Take the rest of the week if you want.”
    â€œActually, I’m thinking of taking the rest of my life off.”
    â€œIt was a stupid joke, the twenty questions. I apologize. But my sons are waiting for me.”
    Sons: even worse than siblings!
    â€œYour sons can wait five minutes,” she said.
    â€œWe’ll talk first thing in the morning.”
    â€œYou said you liked me, although you don’t know why. You said you wanted to see me succeed.”
    â€œBoth things completely true.”
    â€œBut you can’t take five minutes to tell me why I shouldn’t quit?”
    â€œI can take the whole morning, tomorrow. But right now—”
    â€œRight now you don’t have time to flirt.”
    Igor sighed, looked at his watch, and sat down in the other guest chair. “Don’t quit tonight,” he said.
    â€œI think I’m going to quit tonight.”
    â€œIs it the flirting? I don’t have to do that. I thought you enjoyed it.”
    Pip frowned. “So there wasn’t actually anything you wanted from me.”
    â€œNo, just fun. Just teasing around. You’re so funny when