The First Bad Man Read Online Free PDF Page A

casually to my room. I quickly shut the door.
    “That wasn’t my real voice,” I whispered, crouching behind my bed, “and actually we don’t have to talk, I just needed to make a demonstration phone call and you were the number I happened to dial.” This felt more plausible at the start of the sentence than the finish.
    “I’m sorry,” said Phillip. “I didn’t call when I said I would.”
    “Well, we’re even now, because I used you for the demonstration call.”
    “I guess I was just scared.”
    “Of me?”
    “Yes, and also society. Can you hear me? I’m driving.”
    “Where are you going?”
    “The grocery store. Ralphs. Let me ask you a question: Does age difference matter to you? Would you ever consider a lover who was much older or much younger than you?”
    My teeth started clacking together, too much energy coming up at once. Phillip was twenty-two years older than me.
    “Is this the confession?”
    “It’s related to it.”
    “Okay, my answer is yes, I would.” I held my jaw to quiet my teeth. “Would you?”
    “You really want to know what I think, Cheryl?”
    Yes!
    “Yes.”
    “I think everyone who is alive on earth at the same time is fair game. The vast majority of people will be so young or so old that their lifetime won’t even overlap with one’s own—and those people are out of bounds.”
    “On so many levels.”
    “Right. So if a person happens to be born in the tiny speck of your lifetime, why quibble over mere years? It’s almost blasphemous.”
    “Although there are some people who barely overlap,” I suggested. “Maybe those people are out of bounds.”
    “You’re talking about . . . ?”
    “Babies?”
    “Well, I don’t know,” he said pensively. “It has to be mutual. And physically comfortable for both parties. I think in the case of a baby, if it can somehow be determined that the baby feels the same way, then the relationship could only be sensual or maybe just energetic. But no less romantic and significant.” He paused. “I know this is controversial, but I think you get what I’m saying.”
    “I really do.” He was nervous—men are always sure they’ll be accused of some horrific crime after they talk about feelings. To reassure him I described Kubelko Bondy, our thirty years of missed connections.
    “So he’s not one baby—he’s many?” Was there an odd pitch to his voice? Did I hear jealousy?
    “No, he’s one baby. But he’s played by many babies. Or hosted, maybe that’s a better word for it.”
    “Got it. Kubelko—is that Czechoslovakian?”
    “That’s just what I call him. I might have made it up.”
    It sounded like he had pulled over. I wondered if we were about to have phone sex. I’d never done that before, but I thought I would be especially good at it. Some people think it’s really important to be in the moment with sex, to be present with the other person; for me it’s important to block out the person and replace them, entirely if possible, with my thing. This would be much easier to do on the phone. My thing is just a specific private fantasy I like to think about. I asked him what he was wearing.
    “Pants and a shirt. Socks. Shoes.”
    “That sounds nice. Do you want to tell me anything?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “No confessions?”
    He laughed nervously. “Cheryl? I’ve arrived.”
    For a moment I thought he meant here at my house, right outside. But he meant Ralphs. Was this a subtle invitation?
    Assuming he was on the east side, there were two Ralphs he could be going to. I put on a pin-striped men’s dress shirt that I’d been saving. Seeing me in this would unconsciously make him feel like we’d just woken up together and I’d thrown on his shirt. A relaxing feeling, I would think. The reusable grocery bags were in the kitchen; I tried to get in and out without Clee’s seeing.
    “You’re going to the store? I need some stuff.”
    There was no easy way to explain that this wasn’t a real