“Funeral pyre. I like that. It sounds heroic.”
“Your work deserves to be honored.” Adam scans the painting. “The only part left to do is this small area on the shoulder.”
“Actually, I don’t want to work on it anymore.”
Adam’s face shifts, and for a second, he looks pissed, but before I can ask what he’s mad about, his features relax and he says, “Oh. I guess I read you wrong.”
I fold my arms over my chest, because even though his expression appears calm, the tone of his voice is slightly hostile. “What are you saying?”
“I didn’t think you were a quitter.”
The dig hurts. Still, I’m done. I’ve wronged Krell and it’s time for this to be over. “Why does this even matter to you?” I say quietly. “I thought the point was for me to get what I needed from Krell.”
Adam shakes his head. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. You’re not a quitter. You’re the last person in the world anyone could call a quitter.”
He slides the painting back in the locker. His features are tense like he’s gritting his teeth, but then he turns, his eyes bright, and says, “Ready for my surprise?”
I’m thrown by how he’s acting tonight, and I don’t know why he was so put out, but it seems like his little storm might be over. “Can’t wait,” I say, and take his outstretched hand. We ride up to the third floor, and Adam scopes out the halls and waves me forward. He turns down the hall with the grad student studios and leads me to the door with the flattened metal robot toy duct-taped to it.
“Is this your studio?” I ask.
Adam nods. “Sean said he was moving out today to go live with his girlfriend.” Adam puts his ear to the door and listens. “All clear.”
We walk in and Adam flips on the light. As the fluorescents warm, he points to a huge canvas leaning against the wall. “My magnum opus.”
“This is your painting, the one you’ve been working on all semester?”
It’s at least eight feet long and six feet high. I move closer, taking in the hundreds of scribbled white squares on the black canvas. They float, but are all connected. A maze or a language without words. They are black-and-white photos scarred with acid, or a house of staircases leading nowhere.
My mouth goes dry, and a wave of curiosity and discomfort washes over me as I stare at the canvas. “So this is Infinite Uncertainty.”
“You remembered.”
I walk along the painting, taking it in in pieces. My skin prickles up my arms, and I struggle to understand what my body’s telling me. It’s not until I walk the length of it that I realize what is setting me off.
This painting doesn’t feel like Adam. I’d never have guessed he painted it, and it makes me feel I know nothing about him.
Maybe it’s me, I think. I’m the one who’s off-kilter tonight.
He walks over and slides his arm around my waist. “What do you think?”
I don’t tell him what I’m feeling, but share my impressions of a maze, language, vandalized photos, house of staircases.
“You’re very poetic.” His breath is warm on my neck as he murmurs into my ear. “You should write the description when it goes on exhibit.”
“If you want me to.”
“Gavin Brown’s coming to see it next week.”
He throws this out like it’s nothing, but I squeal, “No way! That’s incredible.”
Adam squeezes my waist, and I turn for his kiss, but he says, “Let’s go up to the roof.”
My heart races as we walk to the staircase. I’ve only been to the rooftop garden during the day, but I can imagine how romantic it is at night.
The mustard-colored steel door is locked. Adam pulls out his keys, ignoring the sign: ACCESS PROHIBITED AFTER DARK.
We step outside. I expect it to be dark, but the raised planters are dotted with solar lights, and a huge skylight thrusts out of the roof, a jagged iceberg spilling light.
Because this is CALINVA, nothing up here is built with right angles. The sides of the raised planters tilt and their tops bulge with mounds of floppy grass planted over the feet of crooked Japanese maples. The planters divide the rooftop into oddly shaped spaces that hide lounge chairs and tables.
We walk through the garden, our arms around each other’s waist. Adam gives off faint scents of musk and paint, and his hip is muscle over bone beneath my hand. My skin is hot under my shirt, and I sneak my hand up and unbutton it down to my bra.
We’re four stories up, and Pasadena is spread out before us. The Metro rattles past, its silver sides streaked with reflected light.
“It’s beautiful out here,” I say.
“You can see even better from up top.” Adam points back to where we came in. That half of the building is one story higher. “You game?”
“Absolutely.”
We climb the ladder bolted to the wall, and the metal clangs as we go. Adam’s first and he reaches for me and helps me over the last step.
To the north, the dome of city hall is lit up against the sky, and to the west, houses twinkle in the hills along the arroyo. On the south side, an art deco fountain bathed in colored lights splashes outside the power company.
We walk over to the edge. It’s a five-story drop, and there are no railings. Adam’s so relaxed, it’s like the height doesn’t bother him at all, so I pretend I’m good with it, too. He slides his arm around my waist. “You’re really something,” he murmurs.
I turn and lift my face to his.
“Not what I imagined at all.”
I feel myself swept forward, and I cry out as my feet touch air. I grab for Adam as he swings me around so we’re face-to-face. I clutch his shoulders, body trembling, my toes clinging to the edge of the roof.
He looks into my eyes, and I watch the tiny muscles around his eyes and mouth move as if he’s arguing with himself. My thighs feel like they’re about to cramp, and I’m terrified my toes will slip. Adam leans in to kiss me, and I duck my head. “Please, can we move back a little?”
He smiles and tightens his hold on me. Light catches on the silver cross dangling from his ear. “Trust me. I won’t let you get hurt.”
I stare into his eyes, wishing he’d just scoot back. “Please, I know I’m being silly but—”
Adam waits a moment longer before he spins us around so he’s between me and the edge. “Better?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer. His lips crash into mine and I am tossed by a wave of desire. My hands dive under his shirt, and my breath catches, feeling his lips on my ear, my neck, my breasts.
We are so lost we struggle to surface when we hear, “Whoever’s up here, I know you’re here. This area is off-limits after dark. The administration takes this rule very seriously, and the penalty can be a suspension up to one semester.”
Adam and I drop to a crouch. We huddle together and spy the security guard strolling away from us through the garden.
My blouse hangs open and I race to button it. “Why the big deal?” I whisper.
“A student jumped last year.”
I’d forgotten about him. Adam signals to me to keep quiet.
“I don’t want to bust you, but I will,” the guard declares. “If you are not off this roof before I finish this cigarette, I will stand by the door and you will not get past me.”