Shoot the Moon by Billie Letts Read Free Book Online Page A

boy—barefoot and shirtless, dark hair haloed in an Afro, one hand holding a water pipe, the other flashing a peace sign at the camera—a younger version of the bearded man across the room.
    While the rest of the world was moving toward the new millennium, Kyle Leander was stuck in the sixties.
    When the phone stopped ringing, Mark faked a cough, then, getting no response, tapped one of the ragged sandals, causing its wearer to jerk into action.
    “Hey, man.”
    Kyle jumped up, yanked off his headphones. “I didn’t hear you come in.” He pumped Mark’s hand and propelled him to a recliner covered with cat hair.
    “Well, I heard your phone ringing and—”
    “Phones. That’s all they’re good for, huh?”
    “Is this a bad time for you? When I called, you said . . .”
    “You ever read
Einstein’s Dreams
? That book says all that needs to be said about time. You know what I’m saying?”
    Mark nodded to show his agreement—to what, he wasn’t sure.
    “You want something to drink? Herbal tea? Mineral water? I don’t do coffee.” Kyle tapped a finger against his temple. “Caffeine messes with my mind.” He blinked rapidly, as if to demonstrate one of the damaging effects of ingesting caffeine. “I don’t put petroleum products on my body, either.”
    Mark let that one go without reply.
    “So,” Kyle said, “let’s hear that tape.”
    “What?”
    “Your tape. On the phone you said you were bringing me a tape.”
    “Uh, I think you’ve confused me with someone else. I’m Mark Albright.”
    “Oh, man. Forgive me. I thought you were with Groan, this band out of Memphis. Guy called, asked me if I’d give him some airtime.” Kyle, thoughtful, cupped his chin in his hand and stared into space.
    When a scruffy gray cat jumped onto the arm of the recliner, Kyle said, “That’s Brown Buffalo. If I die before he does, he inherits all this.” He made a sweeping gesture to indicate the vastness of his estate, which Mark assumed would include the lava lamp and flag.
    “I wanted to see you—”
    “Yeah, I remember now. You’re trying to get some information on someone I used to know. Right?”
    “Gaylene Harjo.”
    Kyle Leander’s reaction on hearing the name was physical. His head jerked as if he were dodging wasps, his eyes darting around the room before fixing again on Mark. And then he began to sing.
     
    I hear a soft rain on the windowpane
    Like so many evenings before
    But there’s one sound missing
    in this time, in this place
    I don’t hear your voice anymore
     
    He stopped as suddenly as he’d started, his chest heaving as he sobbed.
    “I’m sorry,” Mark said.
    Kyle snuffled, wiped his face dry with the arm of his shirt. “Man, do you know what it’s like to love a woman so much that just watching her breathe stops time?”
    Mark, his discomfort obvious, said nothing. But Kyle pushed for a response.
    “Well, do you?”
    “No. I’m afraid I don’t.”
    “Makes you feel like you’ll live forever, man. Fucking forever.”
    Kyle began pacing the length of the room, agitated, arms fluttering, like a child imitating flight.
    “That only comes along once, you know. And when it’s gone, it’s like a piece of you’s been cut out.” He ran a finger down the center of his chest. “Bzzzzzt. Gone. A missing heart. Now you tell me how you live without a heart. Huh?”
    “I . . . uh . . .”
    “Exactly!” He made a flying leap across the room. “So what do you do? Fill up that hole with bubble wrap? Stuff it full of newspapers? Dead leaves?”
    Mark wondered if he was supposed to pick the best possible answer, but Kyle drifted away for a while, a brief visit to his past. When he returned, he was calmer.
    “We used to go to the river together to watch the sun come up. She said each morning was like a new breath.” He stopped, folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes. “A new breath,” he whispered.
    The sound of a door slamming somewhere in the building got him