Sarah Of The Moon by Randy Mixter Read Free Book Online Page A

group called The Byrds. He did compromise a bit when he was persuaded to buy a pair of small maroon colored sunglasses that the store clerk promised were identical to the pair worn by the leader of the group, Roger McGuinn.
    The next stop was a shop call Xanadu, a couple of blocks away, a place Chick swore sold the best sandals in the area. The trip between stores was a long one. Chick was constantly meeting and greeting his friends and admirers while Alex searched in vain for a working phone. They were almost at their destination when he found a phone that produced a dial tone.
    While Chick held court outside, Alex closed the door to the hot musty booth and dialed the operator.
    His first collect call was to his home, where his mother’s sharp yes to the operator’s question of accepting a collect call spelled trouble. He was right. She let him have it for not calling earlier. She did not want to hear that the house phone no longer worked, nor that the walk was four blocks to the nearest functional one. Eventually she calmed down and actually seemed to sniffle when asking if he was taking care of himself. After finding out that his father was currently in team competition at a local bowling alley, he promised her he would call at least three times a week, though he doubted that schedule would last past his old man’s first phone bill.
    Next, he placed a call to his workplace. An operator quickly transferred him to an assistant editor, who, in an annoyed tone, went down the list of what was required of him during his two-month stay. He was still going over some details when Chick pounded on the outside glass loud enough to break his train of thought.
    “Tell Uncle Max I said hi!” he yelled into the booth.
    The assistant editor sighed loudly when Alex told him the noisemaker was Bestwick’s nephew.
    “I’ll pass that on to him immediately after I hang up,” he said in a sarcastic manner.
    After making the Western Union mailing arrangements, in delivering the copy and obtaining his paychecks, Alex gave both his and Chick’s regards to the editor and hung up the receiver.
    “So how’s Uncle Max doing?” Chick asked the minute Alex exited the phone booth.
    “I didn’t talk to him,” Alex replied, and was surprised when Chick looked a little disappointed. He was about to ask why the concern when Chick beat him to the punch.
    “I knew him before he became an asshole.”
     
    They once again navigated Haight Street. Chick, the consummate tour guide, pointed out places and shops of interest along the way. Young men, and occasionally women, asking for money, stopped them many times along the route. Chick brushed them off with a gentle “sorry, man,” and walked on.
    “The true believers,” Chick pointed out, “don’t ask for money. They know how to get by without it.”
    Alex had been thinking about Sarah since they left the house. He did not want to rush his tour guide, but he thought it time to toss out a reminder.
    “You said something about checking out a couple of places where Sarah might be.”
    Chick glanced at him and smiled.
    “Alright, we’ll skip Xanadu for now and head to the Free Clinic. But first, I need to look up a couple of friends at the Diggers Store.”
    They turned right, walked a block, turned right again, and were on Page Street. Alex saw a wooden sign on the sidewalk, leaning against a lamppost, it read: FREE FOOD AND STUFF.
    “It was a multi-car garage at one time,” Chick said as they crossed the store’s threshold.
    People rushed about the building. Men and women rummaged through the tables of free food, clothing, books, and other various merchandise. Most of the clientele were young, but Alex noticed some older shabbily dressed men wandering around with bags of free food. It was apparent that the Diggers did not discriminate with their handouts, which he found honorable.
    Artwork, and empty frames, hung from the walls. A young couple blissfully occupied a two-person swing,