herself. Maybe they lived in the neighborhood.
She bypassed the keg and went in search of Adam. She had a mission and she was looking to complete it as soon as possible. She found him coming down a staircase.
âHey,â he said. âHowâs it going?â His eyes were red and she could tell he was stoned. Even so, he seemed aware enough to take in her dress and the body it contained.
âShow me your room,â she blurted out. âI want to see your art.â
âRight this way.â He headed back up the stairs and Trudy followed.
He stopped at a closed door that had a sign reading Caution: Dangerous Chemicals hanging from the doorknob. Someone answered his knock and he shouted, âHey, get the fuck out of there. This is my room.â
Trudy stood waiting behind him in the hall till a rumpled-looking couple emerged.
âEnter,â Adam said, motioning her inside.
Her foot came down on an empty pizza box. She wended her way through a maze of overflowing ashtrays and album covers and
Art in America
magazines. Half-finished sculptures crowded every corner. A mattress made an island in the middle of the room. Above the tousled sheets, a mobile hung from the ceilingâkeys and spoons and can lids threaded onto fishing line.
He pulled her down onto the bed. Then his mouth was on hers, hard and searching, his tongue like a big sour slug. They wrestled out of their clothes, clashing teeth. Trudy thought that everything looked so much smoother in the movies.
It hurt like hell, but she didnât want him to know it was her first time. She moaned as if she were enjoying it. He rolled off her a few minutes later and reached into a drawer.
âI donât know about you, but I could sure use a joint.â
All Trudy could think was, âIâm not a virgin anymore.â
Everybody said it wasnât so great the first time. Trudy was willing to give it another shot. She liked knowing that when Adam was inside of her, she was the only thing on his mind. It made her feel important.
A month later, they were in Dr. Baxterâs waterbed. This time was different. The motion of the waves rocked them, lulled them. Adam moved more cautiously, trying to gauge the movement of the liquid underneath.
âI love you,â he said as he gathered her in his arms and nibbled at her neck.
Happiness bloomed in her, threatening to burst out of her chest. âOh, I love you too, Adam.â She dug her fingernails into his back, pulling him closer.
After it was over, they smoked some pot from Jackâs stash, took a bath, and fell asleep. It was only three oâclock in the afternoon, but nothing could wake themânot the sound of a passing train, not the ringing of the telephone, not the opening and banging shut of the door.
âTrudy!â Only thatâher name on her fatherâs lipsâcould pull them out of their dreams. Then, âAdam!â
âDad!â
âDr. Baxter!â
âGet your clothes on. Now.â He dragged them away from the scene of the crime to Goatfeathers, a coffee house down in Five Points, and all of his hippie cool disappeared. Suddenly he was a self-righteous square.
âAdam, do you realize how old my daughter is?â
âSir, I didnât know she was your daughter.â
Sir?
Trudy could hardly believe her ears. What was going on here? Only a couple of hours before, he was telling her that he loved her, and now he was sucking up to her dad. Shouldnât he be defending her? Their relationship?
âSheâs fifteen.â
âSixteen,â Trudy said. Her birthday was in a few days. What the hell difference did it make how old she was? Romeo and Juliet were fourteen. âAnd what I lack in years, I make up for in experience.â
âThatâs enough, young lady.â Jackâs face was red. Trudy had made a fool of him. Clearly he wasnât used to this fatherhood business.
Trudy had seen it all
Learning to Kill: Stories