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“Or sometimes I imagine that I’m ru
She smiled and lit a Newport. “How do you know?”
“Last night, I was drinking on the trestle, and a train almost ran over me.”
“Why would you do a crazy thing like that?”
“Showing off, I guess. I didn’t think it would be so dangerous. But, wait, the point is that I flew out to the side of the trestle and floated there till the train was past.”
“Oh, sure. Did anyone see you do it?”
“Well ... I was with a guy, Izzy Tuskman, but he didn’t actually see me in the air.”
“I’ve heard of Tuskman. Isn’t he supposed to be an artist?”
“That’s what he says. Do you like art?”
“In a way. When I was a little girl my parents used to take me the museum every Sunday, so I’m pretty fed up with the old masters. What I really like now is Pop art.” “Yeah, yeah. Me too. I love Andy Warhol. I wish I could look like him, all blank and cool. Did you hear about the show he had where it was just fake Brillo boxes?”
“Yes. And soup-can paintings. I like those because then art is everywhere, and not just in boring Sunday museums. The world is art.”
“What do you like to read? Have you readNausea ?”
“Ihave ,” said the girl, brightening even more. “I loved it. That guy Roquentin is socrazy . It’s the only good book that Sartre wrote. The others are too theoretical.”
“I was really hypnotized by that book in high school. I practically got suspended on account of it. I went to a Catholic high school for some reason—it was supposed to be the best science school in Louisville—and when I tried to talk about life being meaningless, the teachers all got mad at me.”
The girl looked him over once again. “Life isn’t really so meaningless. I mean, usually I don’t think so. Pretty soon all the flowers will come out; that’s something to live for. I love daffodils the most of all.”
Her parents lived in Geneva, Switzerland, and she was spending spring vacation in D.C. with high-school friends. The reason Conrad hadn’t met her yet at college was that she was a junior. A junior! As soon as
he got back from spring vacation, he tried to call her for a date.
“Oh, hello!” she said, smiling a big lipstick smile.
“I’m so glad to see you!” exclaimed Conrad. “Please tell me your name; I’ve been looking for you, and I don’t know your name.”
“Audrey. My name is Audrey Hayes. Come on, you can sit with me and my friends.”
Audrey’s friends were four other girls, none of them very attractive. But by now, Conrad would have sat with wild dogs to be near Audrey. When Audrey’s friends heard his name, they made wide eyes at her.
He’d already gotten drunk often enough to have a bad reputation on campus. But Audrey was really glad to see him. After lunch he asked her for a date.
“Will you come to the Folk Festival with me?” The a
“Which concert?”
“Uh ... all of them?”
Thus began a season of sweetness. Conrad saw Audrey at every opportunity—lunch, supper, the movies. The one problem was that she kept refusing to kiss him.
“I don’t want to be a sucker, Conrad. I want to be sure you really like me.” Audrey was licking and licking at a strawberry ice cream cone as she talked. They were standing under a tree outside the student union. They’d just been to an evening pottery class together.
“I do like you, Audrey. Come on and kiss me, will you?”
Lick.“I don’t think I should, Conrad.”Lick.
Not quite knowing what he was doing, Conrad shoved Audrey’s ice cream cone aside and glued his mouth to hers. She let the cone fall and put her arms around him. They kissed once, twice, three times.
The next day, white flowers came out all over the tree they’d been standing under.
Audrey was the best kisser Conrad had ever met. If she happened to be in the right mood, they’d sit down on the dark campus someplace and kiss for half an hour or more. Audrey’s mouth was so wet and open, her breath so sweet, her tongue so strong.
“Why do you drink so much?” she asked one night, interrupting the kissing and pushing Conrad back a bit. They were sitting in a patch of daffodils near Audrey’s dorm. The school year was almost over.
“Uh ... I don’t know. I just really enjoy it. I feel confused and empty a lot of the time, Audrey. When I’m drunk I feel like I can see the answers; I feel like I’m close to the world.”
“But that’s all backwards. Drinking cuts youoff from the world.”
“From the ordinary world, sure. But there’s a deeper reality. I can feel it. With you, I can feel it, as much as with drinking. We co
“What is?” “Feeling co
“That doesn’t sound very romantic.”
“I don’t mean it that way. I love you, Audrey. That’s what I want to say. I love you much more than drinking.” “I’m glad.” They kissed a little more, and then Audrey thought of another question. “Didn’t you once tell me that you can fly?” “Yes. But only when it’s life-and-death. It’s some kind of weird survival trait I have.” “Oh, sure.” “No, really. In high school I was in a car accident, and I flew around a tree. And last month I flew off the trestle to save myself.”
“Couldn’t you fly for me a little right now?”
“You promise not to tell anyone if I show you?”
“I promise.”
“OK. Let’s sneak up to your dorm room.” Audrey lived on the third floor.
“No fu
“Don’t worry, Audrey, I’m a Southern gentleman!”
Boys weren’t allowed to enter the girls’ dorm at night. But people did it all the time. You could climb up the thick wisteria vines, or you could sneak up the back stairs. Audrey went in the main door and opened the back door for Conrad. Whispering and giggling, they hurried up to her room.
It was nice in Audrey’s room, tidy and well arranged. There were stuffed animals, and French books, and empty wine bottles with philodendron vines growing in them. Conrad let himself imagine that he lived here with her. “Don’t make any noise, Conrad, I could get suspended for this.” “Just move those bottles and open your window.” “You’re going to climb down?” “I’m going tofly down!” “Don’t, Conrad, you might hurt yourself. You don’t really have to fly to impress me.” “But Ican !” “Have you done this before?” “Not really. I’ve been scared. But you make me feel strong enough.” “Well, don’t kill yourself!” She cleared off the windowsill and threw open the big sash window. Sweet spring air wafted in. Conrad crouched in the window and leaned forward.
For a second he thought he was flying, but he was wrong. He was crashing down through the wisteria vines that covered Audrey’s dorm, crashing down feet-first. He fell about ten feet before he managed to get hold of a thick piece of the vine. The jolt almost tore his arm out of its socket, but the vine held.
Moaning softly, Conrad climbed the rest of the way down. He could hear Audrey giggling overhead. When he got to the bottom, he looked up and gave a jaunty wave.
“See?”
“What happened, Conrad?”
“I ... I guess it wasn’t dangerous enough.”
“You’re incredible. I’m going to miss you this summer.”