Later, he would find that she was not extraordinary, as he'd originally thought. She was open, but there were subjects she avoided because she had no experience with them, and she was too embarrassed to talk about them. He sensed the gaps, and avoided them, too. But he could have educated her. He didn't know that she would have asked, but she lacked the nerve, because she lacked the experience. She had no way to begin, and so neither did he.

She surprised him that first night, and continued to surprise him, but he recognized her, as if he had known her before he had ever met her. He wanted every role in her life, but he didn't ask, because she probably didn't feel about him the way he felt about her. Better to pretend he felt nothing. Everything she did breathed innocence. If he said what he felt he might frighten her away.

Instead he led a double life. He took up with Kim again - Kim, the girl who had always reappeared between his other girlfriends; Kim, the wild girl, who lived in an atmosphere of freedom, without conventions. She thought of her own pleasure, not of right and wrong. Ada learned, but Kim explored. Her sense of self, of her own primacy, was absolute, her confidence unshakeable. She could have said anything, no matter how shocking, to anyone, no matter who. She didn't, because she didn't see the point. And she could have done anything, no matter how shocking, with anyone, no matter who. She didn't, because she didn't see the point. Without thinking, she believed in pleasure, and not in pain. She lived instinctively. She enjoyed her life.

She had been Wyatt's first girlfriend when he moved to Lawrence, and she had continued to sleep with him occasionally. Now he began to call her. Being with Ada exhausted him; he always had to watch himself. Kim was easy, because she didn't care what he said or did. Nothing would drive her away. At worst she might laugh contemptuously.

She figured out that he was in love with someone soon after he started calling, although he had said nothing about Ada. They were in bed when Kim had the flash. "You're pussy whipped," she said.

"Is that one of your Texas expressions?"

She slapped him on the ass. He rolled over on his back. "You're pussy whipped," she said again, and laughed. "You, of all people!"

"I am not. I haven't tried to get her in bed. I haven't even touched her. She's like a little sister. That's it. I feel protective."

Kim howled. "Too much! You're P.W. and you won't even admit it. So why have you been calling me so much?"

"I'm horny."

"No. Something's changed. You're calling me now. It used to be the other way around. Introduce me. Tell her I'm your girlfriend. I dare you." She leaned over him, her face close to his, one hand next to his ribs, the other hand above his shoulder. Her right nipple just touched his left nipple.

"Would you not do that? It's distracting."

She sat up, cross-legged. "Don't change the subject. Come on. Tell her I'm your girlfriend."

"But you're not."

"So?"

"So it would be a lie."

"Excuse me. Have you been shopping for morals? When did you start worrying about telling a few lies?"

"I can't lie to her. She's not like you. If she found out, it would hurt her. She barely knows what the word means."

"Okay, then, kiss me in front of her. Meet her somewhere public. I'll come in, see you, and walk over. We kiss. It doesn't have to be a soul kiss. Just enough to let her know what's going on."

He didn't say anything.

"Well?"

"Back off."

"No. I want to understand this."

"I can't do that. It would shock her."

"Oh, please."

"It would shock her. I don't want to hurt her feelings. I don't want to lose her. I want her to think I'm available. I don't know how she feels about me. I don't want her thinking I'm already involved."

"We aren't involved. Not that way."

"She doesn't know that."

"Then tell her."

"She wouldn't believe it."

"You know it's true, though." She lay down on her side, facing him.

"Of course it is. Why do you think I call you? I could dump you any time and you wouldn't care, except for the sex."

She howled again. "This is priceless. But that's not why I'm here. I can get the sex anywhere."

"But you like sex with me."

"All right, I do. You're different from most men. You're not just after an orgasm. You like to have fun in bed."

"Thanks."

"It's nothing to be proud of. You're made that way, that's all." She leaned over him, nipple to nipple again. This time he didn't seem to notice. His head was turned and he was staring out the window. "Hey, you," she said, "speaking of fucking..." She wet her index finger in her mouth and started stroking the top of his penis with the tip of the finger, from base to tip. "Is Thumper all used up?"

He lifted her hand by the wrist. "He's tired. You wore him out. Maybe later."

Pause. "What's her name?"

"Unh-uh. You'd probably find her and tell her all about me. Maybe even about us."

She mock-pouted.

The setting sun lit her up - the slant in the corners of her eyes, her firm, gymnast's body, the upturned corners of her mouth. Even when still she looked on the verge of some sudden movement. Her river of smooth black hair, her smooth skin: sleek, feminine and powerful. Feline. She knew from birth how to take care of herself. He imagined her going home, turning into a panther, and giving herself a tongue bath. "You remind me of the big cats," he said.

"Dangerous?"

"No. Self-sufficient. Let me see your palm." He pretended to study it. "You'll never marry, but you'll have hundreds of affairs. Even when you're sixty, you'll have multiple lovers. Soon you'll start bathing in the blood of virgins, like Countess Bathory. This will preserve your youth. At the age of eighty, you will seduce a witch's husband. The witch will put a curse on you. Your death will be agonizing, lasting one day for every year of your life, eighty days. In your next life, you get your revenge by giving her leprosy."

"What crap." She rolled her eyes. "Is this supposed to be clever? Can't we just fuck?"

"I thought I explained that. I'm spent. Are you familiar with the concept?"

"No. It doesn't work that way for me. Pretty please, with a blow job next time?"

Half an hour later Kim got what she'd come for, again, and Wyatt had managed to forget his longing for Ada, for a while. He liked Kim - no, enjoyed was the right word: her liveliness, the pleasure she took in everything she did. But she was too free. His Kim-vacation was coming to an end. Her energy was wearing him out.

She showed up the next night while he was studying with Ada at his apartment. They both had big tests coming up, and they were quizzing each other. This was the first time she'd been to his apartment since the snow. They always met in public, but he had invited her to dinner. They could study late and combine it with food. It was a chance to cook for her. She had lost weight, not that she had any to spare, and she was pale, and had a bad cough. He wanted to get some good food in her.

He wondered who could be knocking on the door, and opened it.

"Hi," Kim said brightly. She was dressed in go-go boots, a low-cut halter top with spaghetti straps and no bra, and a leather microskirt, all of it black. She had a long black wool coat flung over her shoulder, one finger holding the collar.

"What are you doing?" Wyatt whispered.

"I want to meet her," she whispered back. "I know your neighbors. They called me." Then, in a louder voice, "I was just in the neighborhood so I thought I'd drop in. It's been so long since we've really talked." She winked.

Then Ada was behind him, looking over his arm.

"I'm busy right now," Wyatt told Kim.

"I hope I didn't interrupt anything." Her posture didn't change. She wasn't leaving.

"No," Ada said. "We were just sitting down to eat. Aren't you going to invite her in?" she asked Wyatt.

"I only made dinner for two."

"I've already eaten," Kim said.

"Wyatt?" Ada asked.

"I only made dinner for two," he repeated.

"Don't mind me," Kim said, and pushed her way in. "My name's Kim." She held out her hand.

Ada offered her own hand, and they shook. "I'm Ada. I'm a friend of Wyatt's. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Formalities," Kim said. "What would we do without them?" She looked at Wyatt, standing with his hands hanging by his sides. "Speaking of formalities, aren't you forgetting them? The food must be getting cold."

They sat at the table. Wyatt noticed the empty space in front of Kim. "Oh, yeah," he said, and shoved back his chair and went to the kitchen.

"I like your outfit," Ada said. "It's very - bold. I could never be that brave."

Kim didn't answer for a moment. "Are you putting me on?"

"Did I say something to offend you?"

"No. Not at all," Kim said. "I like to dress up. People usually don't comment. And when they do, they... Never mind."

"But don't men get the wrong idea sometimes? What do you do?"

"If you understand men, they're actually easy to handle. Take him." She nodded toward the kitchen, where Wyatt was opening and closing cabinets. "A few little pleasures and he's happy as can be. Most men are like that. If you don't have time to make them comfortable, flattery usually works."

"That's funny."

Wyatt put everything on the table in front of Kim. "Here. Help yourself." He gestured to the food. At least spaghetti and vegetables could be divided by three.

The only way to get through the dinner safely was not to say anything, so Wyatt listened to the two women talk. He expected it to be something like watching teams playing different games on the same field: one side playing baseball, the other playing football.

"Don't you love men who cook?" Kim asked.

"I'm not sure what you mean," Ada replied.

"I mean, don't you like having someone do your bidding? Wait on you hand and foot?"

"I never thought about it. I'd feel guilty, but I'd probably get used to it. It's worth trying."

"We used to have servants when we lived in the Phillipines. If I ever get rich, the first thing I'll do is hire a maid and a cook."

"Are you from the Phillipines?" Ada asked.

"No. Everywhere. I'm an Army brat."

"I thought maybe you were Asian."

"I'm three-eighths Chinese. The rest is a mix. I met a lot of my German relatives when we lived near Munich. I had my first boyfriend there. He was sort of a distant cousin."

"Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"How can I know until you do?"

"What was the Army like?" Ada asked. "It's always been mysterious to me."

"Like a flock of chickens with a pecking order, and they wear it on their clothes. I hate that shit. I never want to see it again. It's for people who can't make it in the real world, people who have to be told what to do."

"It's so different." Ada trailed off. "I can't imagine it. Everyone following orders and dressing the way they're told to."

"These new potatoes are good," Kim said to Wyatt. He passed her the bowl.

Ada came back from her daydream. "Wasn't there anything you liked about the Army?"

"No. I guess I rebelled against it so hard I became - " She turned to Wyatt. "What's the word you used?"

"Anarchist," he said.

"That's it. I think the world would be better if everyone was an anarchist."

"I agree," Ada said.

"You're kidding."

"No. I agree. We're all free, but that means we're responsible for each other. Or to each other."

"Spare me," Kim said. "I can't even be responsible for keeping the refrigerator stocked."

"That's funny. I feel that way sometimes."

"Stick with him, then," Kim said, and nodded at Wyatt. "He's the organized one."

"I know. He's showed me all sorts of wonderful study tricks."

"But he's such a slob. It used to bug me."

"You, too? The way he has pieces of paper sticking out of his notebooks. He's a paradox: disorder on the surface, organization underneath."

"Maybe, but so what?" Kim said. "Look at the crap in this apartment. He's a pack rat. There's a project for you and me. 'The Wyatt project.' We'll fix all his flaws and train him and when he's perfect, we'll auction him off to the highest bidder."

"How much do you think we can get?" Ada asked.

"I'm leaving," Wyatt said. "Back later."

Both women laughed at him. "Move from that chair and you'll be sorry," Kim said.

"We're only having fun," Ada said to him, and touched his sleeve. She turned to Kim. "We're making him uncomfortable. Maybe we'd better talk about something else."

"Men. They're so fragile."

"Wyatt, fragile?" Ada said. "Somehow - "

"I know, I know - "

"I've had it," he said. "You two stop talking about me or I'm leaving."

"Master has spoken," Kim said. "I tremble."

"We'd better talk about something else. Tell me all the places you lived," Ada said.

"Texas, California, Georgia, and Washington D.C. The Phillipines, Turkey, England, and Germany."

"Oh. How lucky you are. I've always wanted to travel. With no need to work, only to see the places, and meet all the different kinds of people."

"It's pretty ordinary most of the time. It's a different kind of work, keeping everything together, keeping your kids fed and healthy. My parents were pretty good at it. Even the kids have to take care of themselves, though, and if you don't speak the language, it's a pain in the ass."

Ada asked about the places Kim had lived, in the order she found them exotic: Turkey, the Phillipines, Germany, and England. Kim described them briefly, then, after repeated promptings, in detail. Ada leaned toward her, coughing occasionally, her elbows on the table, speaking only when Kim paused. Wyatt remembered the snowy morning, and the times since, when Ada had plied him with questions, and the absorption with which she listened to his answers, the same absorption with which she listened now.

"Now you tell me something," Kim said. "I don't know anything about you."

"I'm from Costa Rica. I grew up on a farm, in a village, on a mountain, far away from anything interesting. No. I shouldn't say that. The cloud forest was fascinating. But there weren't many books, and no movies, and only two kinds of people."

"Do you miss it?"

Ada glanced at Wyatt. "Not as much as I did at first. I still miss my treehouse. There was an enormous tree behind the barn and my father thought it might fall someday, and he wanted the wood, so he cut it down. But he made it into a sort of playhouse for me. You see, I was very little, and there weren't any other children my age, and a lot of the work when we first got there was too heavy for me, or beyond my abilities. He wanted to keep me entertained. He cut the top of the stump like a pencil point, to spill the rain, and shingled it. The stump was about ten feet high and he hollowed out a little room inside. Then he made a table and chair from some of the leftover wood and made a door, with a lock, and he gave me the key as a present for my sixth birthday. I kept asking him what he was doing but he wouldn't tell me until he gave me the key, and that was the most wonderful moment of my life, until I won my scholarship. I always wore the key around my neck, even when I slept. I helped him cut niches and shelves in the inside walls where I could put my books and things. And we cut holes for windows. When I wanted to be alone, or to study, I'd go in and light the lantern and close the door and no one would bother me." She stared into the middle distance. "I kept hummingbird feeders outside the biggest windows. My favorite bird was the violet sabrewing, even though it bullied the other species - it was the biggest, and it liked to chase the other birds away from the feeders. Every year when the rainy season ended, I scrubbed the inside of my house with lye and took out the windows to let it air. The light was different from anywhere else. I've never seen light like that, anywhere. It was - diffuse - it was mellow, and the color changed with the time of day. When I got bigger I cut more holes of different shapes at different heights all around the room, and I fitted some of them with mosquito netting and others with glass or plastic or translucent fabric, and having more windows made the light a little brighter, but it was still lovely. Then when someone gave me some colored glass, I used that. I arranged the colored pieces in the windows so that during a certain time of day there were red, yellow and blue stripes on the floor. I called it the rainbow hour. Living in the dorm, I miss the privacy. I miss my treehouse. It was my retreat."

"At least you had one. Most people aren't that lucky."

Ada roused herself and said, "I suppose so. Lawrence is the only other place I've been, really. I love this place. It has everything."

"I wouldn't say that," Kim said, "but it has enough, and not too much. I like Lawrence, too. I'd like to stay here after I finish school."

"That's a wonderful idea. It's an exciting place. And the people are so kind."

Kim picked up her fork and stabbed the last fragment of potato on her plate, then set the fork down on the plate in a three-o'clock position. " 'Kind' is the wrong word. They don't like conflict. They try to be nice so there won't be any trouble. They hate friction."

"But there are people like Wyatt. He's been so kind and helpful. Don't you think that there are a lot of people like that here?"

"Wyatt? Kind?"

"Yes. Helpful and generous."

"How did you meet?"

She leaned back in her chair and smiled at Wyatt. "He rescued me. I was freezing when he found me in the snow."

"Snow White. Sorry. I don't mean to be tasteless. I'd better be going. It's getting late and you have to study. You've hardly touched your food, either."

"Don't go yet. Please."

"No. I really have to."

Wyatt told Ada he'd just see Kim to her car. He rounded on her outside the door, about to slap her, and stopped when he saw the expression on her face.

"I love her," Kim said.

"You what?"

"I love her. She's sweet and innocent. I hope she stays that way." It was the first time he'd seen her look sad. "I see the appeal. She's young. She's unspoiled. If you hurt her, I'll kill you. But I understand. If I liked women I'd be in love with her myself. Good luck. I hope you get her."

"I what?"

"I hope she falls in love with you. It would be interesting. It would make you a different man. It would make her a different woman. You can teach each other. I'd like to see that happen."

He was silent.

"I shouldn't have come. I ruined your evening."

"Forget it. What were you saying about Ada?"

"She's sweet. I just hope she doesn't fall in love with you too fast. I haven't had my fill of you yet."

"What are you talking about?"

"I want to keep you for a while."

"Unh-uh. No. No you don't."

"Don't worry," she said. "I'm not going to tell her about us."

"Stay away."

"I'll only come when you call."

"You mean that?"

"Or I'll call you. I won't come if she's here, or you're expecting her."

"Promise."

"Wyatt, I am not a child. You don't believe me?"

"Promise."

She had her contemptuous look on. "After all this time, you treat me like that? You think you can't trust me?"

"Trust you? After the way you showed up tonight?"

"If I'd known what she was like I wouldn't have bothered you."

"What are you talking about?"

She spoke slowly. "Are you listening? I'll try to say this so you can understand. I'm my way, you're your way, and she's her way. Everyone's different. Are you with me so far?" She paused for a second. "Even if I don't understand her, and even if I'm not like her, even if I don't want to be like her, that doesn't mean I don't respect her. She's special. She hasn't been damaged yet. Now do you get it? I'm not telling you anything you don't already know."

She strode off, shrugging into her coat. Two boys were getting out of a car. The one carrying a six-pack wolf-whistled at her. She flipped him the finger. Wyatt watched, to make sure they didn't bother her, then went back inside after Kim had vanished in the darkness and the boys had let themselves into the apartment building next door.

Ada hadn't moved. "She's so interesting! I wish I could be like her. So sophisticated. Nothing frightens her."

"Well, that last part's true. She doesn't know any better."

"Doesn't know any better?"

"Never mind. You liked her?"

"Oh yes. She's - I guess the word is cool." The word "cool" sounded like something new she was trying on. "Where did you meet?"

"A party. We got to talking. We went out..."

"You mean, you went out with her?"

"I meant, we went out to eat after the party." And then had sex all night. It was a revelation.

"Oh. I thought maybe you used to see her."

Silence.

"Did you see her?"

"Why?"

"I'm sorry. It's none of my business."

"Yes. I dated her. I don't like to admit it."

"Why not? She's smart and beautiful."

"Not smart. Shrewd. No, streetwise, that's the word. She doesn't measure up to beautiful, either. Attractive, more like. But she's scary. She'll do anything. I've seen her stand up on her motorcycle at fifty miles an hour, just to see if she could do it. She had the throttle set extra tight, so she could let go of it and the bike would keep going." And him on the back, riding double, and she hadn't warned him before she did it.

"She has a motorcyle? I've never been on one. Do you think she'd mind if I asked her for a ride?"

"She sold it. She was tired of it and she needed money."

"Too bad. I've always wanted to ride a motorcycle," Ada said. "Tell me about her. She's interesting."

"No. She's not interesting. The things she does are interesting. The things she says are interesting. But she's not."

"I don't understand."

"She's a simple person. She lives for herself, that's all."

"But what's wrong with that? As long as she isn't selfish. As long as she isn't cruel."

"How can you say that? You don't believe that. You study. You work hard. You try to learn. She lives from day to day. Her grades are lousy. She'll be lucky to graduate."

"That doesn't matter. I have to study, to keep my scholarship. Maybe other things are more important to her."

He stood and began collecting the plates. "We're wasting time. The tests are tomorrow. We have to get back to work."

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No."

"I didn't mean to offend you." She stood, but he had already collected the dishes. She picked up the bowl of spaghetti, then put it down.

He turned at the kitchen doorway. "I can't believe you defended her. She knows better than to just show up like that. It's not right."

"I don't understand."

"Doesn't matter," he said. "Let's get back to studying."

"Not yet, please. You're upset."

He entered the kitchen and began sorting and stacking the dishes next to the sink.

She followed. "If I've done something to offend you, tell me and I'll apologize."

"It isn't you. It's her. I've had about as much of her as I can stand."

"She was delightful."

It was time to say it. "Ada. You should know. I'm still dating her. We aren't serious about each other," he said. "It's." He gave up and asked, "Have you ever dated anyone for a long time?"

She looked at the floor. "No. I've never dated anyone at all."

"I don't know how to explain. Sometimes they get on your nerves. It's dragged on too long. It's all used up."

"Isn't that a selfish thing to say?" She looked up. "I don't mean to criticize. I don't know about these things. But don't you have to keep trying?"

"There's nothing to try for. She wants things to stay the way they are, and I could never feel the way I'd have to feel to have a relationship with her. I want a relationship. Just not with her." With you. With you, the way I've never wanted anything before.

"I thought this, this length of time together meant that you have a relationship."

"No." He took her hand. "She wanted to meet you. She knew you were here. Someone told her. She has a spy in the building."

"She shouldn't be jealous. We're not, you're not my boyfriend."

"She isn't jealous, just curious."

"But if you're seeing her, of course she would be jealous."

"I'm not involved with her. I'm just dating her."

"Now I don't understand at all." She stepped back, pulling free.

He stepped forward her and grasped her hand again. "Ada, you mean more to me than she does."

"Please don't. You're making me uncomfortable." He let go her hand. She grasped her elbows in her palms. "How long have you known her?"

"Over three years."

"I think I'd better go home."

"Why?"

"I'm tired. I want to think."

"No."

"I should. Honestly I should. I don't understand any of this, and I'm not sure I want to."

"No. Ask me anything. I'll tell you the truth."

"Are you in love with her?"

"No."

"But you've been seeing her for three years?"

"Off and on."

"Why, if you're not in love?"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"Yes."

What he was about to say might be a catastrophe. He was like a man going into battle, determined, knowing the risk. "We have... It's easy. Everything is easy with her. She doesn't put anything in the way, she lets me be myself, even when she puts me down, it's not like... I don't know how to explain. She accepts me. She accepts everything. We're friends, we don't leave anything out. I can say anything to her. She can say anything to me. We talk. We sleep together."

Ada stopped breathing and her eyes widened. She opened her mouth and took a quick breath, in and audibly out. "You sleep with her?" Her voice was full of wonder.

"Yes. I'm sorry you had to know. I can't hide it any longer."

"That explains." She shook her head. "This isn't what I thought." She left the kitchen and sat on the sofa, looking out the window.

He sat next to her. "I'm going to stop seeing her."

"Why?"

"Don't you know?"

"No, I don't. Please don't talk. I need to think. I don't understand yet."

"I'm going to split up with her," he repeated.

"Don't. Don't say such things. Aren't you afraid of hurting her?"

He laughed. "Kim is tough. You could put her in the middle of the Sahara and she'd find her way out. She's unbeatable. The only person I'm afraid of hurting is you."

"But why? You wouldn't hurt anyone. You've been so generous, so very helpful. I'm grateful." Her face cleared, and she turned and looked at him. "I'm glad for you. Glad for her. You're friends. You shouldn't throw that away. If she gives you pleasure, why shouldn't you sleep with her? I never thought of it, isn't that odd? There's nothing wrong. You enjoy each other. It never occurred to me."

"What didn't?"

"It never occurred to me that these things happen outside of books. I thought relationships were either long and serious, or short and casual. This is different. This is interesting." She pinched the sleeve of his shirt, and shook it. "I'm glad for you. You should go on seeing her. Don't throw away three years. Don't throw away all that closeness, all that time together."

He wanted to cry out, "No!", but said, "Well. You don't mind?"

"It wouldn't matter if I did, and why would I, anyway? There's no reason for me to, I want you, both of you, to be happy. I'd want the same thing for myself if I, if I was as brave as she is. Why wouldn't I want it for you?" she asked. "I'm glad for you. You're very lucky. She's wonderful. You should go on seeing her."