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“Then why did you do it, Kid?” I asked just as softly.
“I guess I just wanted to have a piece of something pretty. And I ain’t just talking about that picture, Liddy Rose.”
We did some kissing after that, and it became obvious that pretty soon I wouldn’t be the only virgin in the Patriot High School graduating class anymore.
The first time should be all hearts and flowers and nerve endings firing at the same time in exquisite streams of pure earth-shattering delights. I had read the books.
“Jesus, Liddy, it’s like trying to force a train through concrete.” Were Kid’s exact words after I had stripped down, closed my eyes, and opened my legs in what I hoped was a welcome move. He was bigger than I had imagined, and it hurt more than I had thought.
“Shit, Liddy. You’re cringing.” I opened one eye and saw him looming over me.
“It hurts.” I blushed a deep crimson.
“Doesn’t have to…well, maybe a little bit.” He pulled down my skirt, pulled up his pants, and rolled over to the side of me. Then he bent one knee reached into his pocket and pulled out a smoke. He looked at the cigarette and laughed. “Usually have one of these after, not before.”
I looked at him and felt my crimson blush turn a deep purple. “Kid, I think I might have you know a problem. Ya know, down uh…there.”
“What kind of a problem?” Kid stopped smoking and gave the statement the attention that it deserved.
“I just don’t seem to get as riled up about this kind of stuff as other girls do.” Then I glanced sidelong at him. “You know with uh…my boyfriends…I just never felt like…on fire…the way you’re supposed to.”
“Well, maybe you like girls.” He said with disappointment.
“No, it’s not that.”
“Good to know.” He let out a breath of relief. “Those guys you’ve been with are all losers, Liddy. And if I remember you got all fired up when I kissed you…so fired up that the police and the firetrucks showed up.” He grinned, and I instantly felt better remembering how those kisses had made me feel flutters deep in my belly and had, quite literally, caused a riot.
“But just now…” I lamented.
“Ah, honey, that was my fault. I just kind of went atcha.” Kid flicked his smoke on the ground and rolled over on his hip. Then he stretched out his arm. “Come here, Liddy.”
He tucked me into his arm and held me close for a long time. He spoke low in my ear and pointed out constellations in the clear night sky. Then Kid shifted me in his arms while his hands began to roam my body, lightly at first, then firmer and bolder. He whispered things that made me ache with longing, and when he kissed me, I felt all warm and tingly. It wasn’t long before my breath hitched in little gasps, my panties were wet, and my nipples grew taut and stiff. I had a fleeting thought that if there was anything wrong with me, Kid just might be the cure.
We made love for hours that night—hours, and hours, andhours.He twisted and turned me in ways I didn’t think were possible and put his mouth in places I had no idea it belonged. As the pink streaks began to light the sky in a soft glow, we lay tumbled, spent, and exhausted at each other’s side like the sole survivors of a shipwreck. Only happier.
“Wow.” I sighed against his chest. “So that’s what I’ve been missing all this time.”
Kid kissed the top of my head and pulled me closer. “Pretty damn good for me, too, Liddy.” Then he pulled away, got up, and tossed my clothes at me. I’m gonna go on my first run as a prospect with the Sinners today, I should be back by Wednesday. I’ll call ya.”
“You be safe on that run, Kid Harding. Don’t let those Sinner fools talk you into doing something crazy.” I frowned at him because we had all heard stories about what happened on those motorcycle trips.
“I’m going to New York City tomorrow with Aunt Betty to see her cousin, Jenny,” I told him. Then I added with hope. “She has an art studio. If it works out, I could get a job with her, and then who knows what could happen.
“You gonna be gone long?” He watched as I buttoned up the last button on my shirt.
I paused for a moment to look around me. I saw the plastic gnomes, broken screen doors, dilapidated trailers, and muddy ruts that passed for roads in Paradise Gate Trailer Park.
Then I turned to him and said softly, “I hope so Kid, I really hope so.”
Five years later…
Liddy Rose Hall, the little girl with the big dreams, walked back into town a bigger loser than when she left. That’s how I looked at it anyway. It took me longer than it should have to see the writing on the wall. In what I can only describe as my naivete, I had spent way too much time avoiding lecherous gallery owners and picking up side jobs just to make ends meet, and not enough time doing what I had gone to New York City to do. Finally, a gallery owner named Sylvia Goldstein had taken pity on me and kindly told me that while my paintings were good, they weren’t gallery good. Then she had poured me a glass of wine, patted me on the shoulder, and offered me a one-way ticket to anywhere I wanted to go.
By that time Aunt Betty and Henry had been married for about a year and were living in South Carolina. When they offered me free housing (Henry’s double-wide) and a decent salary to take over the management of the trailer park, I took that offer. I spent the whole flight back trying to convince myself that going home to Paradise Gate wasn’t the step back that everybody knew it was.
But really, once I reconciled myself to being an art world reject, I realized that I was the only one who saw it that way. Trailer park folks don’t judge, and I was welcomed back into the nest with open arms. I received lots of gifts…homemade cookies, cakes, and casseroles. I was met on the street with tons of hugs andatta girlsfor not only giving another life a try but having the sense to come home when it didn’t work out. It was not long before I was settled into my new home, learning my new job, and hanging out with my old friends.
Apparently, Henry’s big heart hid a laissez-faire attitude towards actually running a large business like the park, and I had my work cut out for me. I spent hours every day putting numerous accounts online and in order. But, really I loved it. I was still okay at numbers, and being born into chaos, I had developed an innate sense of order. Best of all my schedule was my own and it was nice to have that kind of freedom.
