Sarah Of The Moon

by Randy Mixter

  Alex could not help but notice how cute the girl was. Her tee shirt was tight enough to see she was braless. Her jeans rode low on her hips and flared out at her sandaled feet. For the moment, he forgot about the painting.

  “Do you work here?” he asked.

  “Nobody works here. I volunteer to help out from time to time, here and at the Panhandle.”

  “The Panhandle?”

  “It’s a park not far from here. The Diggers serve up food there a few times a week. I usually give out the bean soup, which is our most popular dish. You’ve got to try it sometime.”

  She edged up close to him, close enough to feel a breast against his arm. Her mouth moved to his ear, and he smelled the scent of vanilla on her breath.

  “Look for me when you get there. I’ll give you extra beans.”

  Then she was gone. Disappearing into the crowd before Alex could respond. He rubbed his arm where, a moment ago, a breast had been. He wondered if Sherry was freckled there too, and in his contemplative daze nearly fell victim, once again, to the treacherous swing.

  They left the Diggers store not long after that. Upon closer inspection, the painting, that had almost cost him a limb, looked nothing like Sarah.

  Alex confronted Chick as they made their way to the Free Clinic. “Why do they have a dangerous swing in the middle of their store? That thing could kill someone.”

  “That’s the way we rid ourselves of inattentive individuals in our community. We bring them to the free store and let the diabolical swing do the rest,” Chick replied as he took a fresh joint from his shirt pocket and lit it up. “Writers, in particular, don’t last long in Haight-Ashbury. They daydream their way into oncoming swings. Fortunately for you, Freckles was nearby.”

  The mention of Sherry took his thoughts back to the store. The painting on the wall that looked so much like Sarah from a distance, the pendulum like swing, Sherry’s breast on his arm.

  “She’ll break your heart, you know,” Chick said as they neared the clinic.

  Alex found that an odd thing to say about a girl he had just met, and who had yet to give him extra beans. Before he could reply, it dawned on him he was referring to Sarah.

  “As I said before, she’s a free spirit and I doubt that anything, or anyone, could change her ways.” He offered his smoke to Alex, who gracefully declined.

  “My advice is to enjoy your time with her, but to avoid a courtship. I might be wrong, but I believe that if you try to romance her, your story will have a sad ending,” he added, taking another long drag.

  Chick’s words did not entirely convince Alex. Sarah’s actions still confused him. One minute she desired his company, the next she ignored him. He wanted her to be more like Sherry, who offered both breast and beans without provocation.

  They rounded a corner into a row of Victorian homes. A sign hanging from the door of one announced The Free Clinic.

  “We’re here,” Chick said, while rubbing out his reefer on the porch steps. “They prefer we abstain from drug usage while on the premises.”

  A makeshift waiting room greeted them in the foyer. White plastic lawn chairs encircled the perimeter, all occupied with a young man or woman. A few sat on the foyer’s hardwood floor.

  There were two closed doors on either side of the room. On one door a sign read DOCTOR ON CALL, the other read CALMING ROOM.

  “If she’s here, that’s where you’ll find her,” Chick said, pointing to the calming room.

  Alex nudged up next to Chick. “What exactly is a calming room?”

  “Just what it says it is,” Chick replied. “It’s a place to back off of a bad trip, with the helping hand of a calming presence. In this case, that would be your lady in waiting, Sarah.”

  Chick move closer to Alex and lowered his voice.

  “The thing about acid is that it feeds off your vibes. Good vibes, no problem. However, let a bad one slip by and even the best acid will turn on you, usually without warning. It frequently happens with first timers not partnered up with an experienced user. Paranoia sets in and then it’s bad trip time.”

  “Ever happen to you Chick?” Alex inquired.

  “Once, but I think I got hold of some bad stuff. Do not buy anything off the street. When you are ready to try it, let me know. I’ll see that you get top quality.”

  Chick walked away and was soon socializing with half the people in attendance. Alex stood close to he calming room door, waiting for it to open. When it did, minutes later, all conversation in the room came to an abrupt halt and every head turned toward the door.

  Sarah walked out with a girl who looked to Alex to be no older than sixteen. Sarah’s arm wrapped around the girl’s waist and she was whispering into her ear.

  The girl found whatever Sarah said to be amusing. Her face lit up as she smiled brightly. Sarah walked the girl to the front door as those assembled in the lobby silently watched.

  Once again, Sarah whispered to the girl and then, to Alex’s amazement, the girl kissed Sarah, gently on her cheek and walked out the door.

  Scattered applause broke out as Sarah turned back to the lobby. When she asked if anyone else needed her assistance, at least five hands went up.

  “I don’t want to be tied up needlessly if an emergency arrives,” she said, and all the hands lowered.

  She was making her way back to her room when she saw Alex.

  “So, what brings you here on this fine summer day?” Sarah asked him before glaring accusingly at Chick, who vigorously shook his head no.

  Before he had time to speak and seemingly satisfied that Chick was not the culprit, she motioned him into the room. In deference to the hand raisers, she left the door ajar.

  Alex noticed that the small room contained but two items, a small bed and a chair. The walls displayed a light blue paint and pictures of pastoral settings, waves breaking on a beach, and flowers graced their surface. Candles placed on wall shelves lit the room. Alex thought the room suitably named. He immediately felt more relaxed, even in Sarah’s presence.

  “Sorry” Sarah said as she patted down the creases on the bed’s sheet. “I just don’t trust Chick. He means well, but a good percentage of my customers refer to him by name.”

  “I’ve been drug free for the day,” Alex responded with some pride.

  Sarah, her back to him, said nothing as she continued to straighten the bed. Satisfied with its appearance, she turned to face him. She again wore a long white dress, but it was subtly different from yesterday’s attire. In place of the crown of flowers, she wore a single rose in her hair, near where it parted down the middle. He saw she was once again barefoot.

  “Drugs are part of the culture here. I have no problem with marijuana, but L.S.D. is another story. It brings me too many patients on the days and nights I help out here.”

  “You work here nights too?” Alex asked.

  “Only when they expect a rush. During and after shows at the Fillmore, Winterland, and The Matrix are busy times.”

  He caught her gazing at him intently. It felt like her eyes were probing his soul. He squirmed a little in his seat.

  “I’ll be walking up to the park again this evening after I tuck in the children. I’d like your company if you have no plans.”

  “I’m free tonight.”

  “Good. I thought you might be leaving us.”

  He thought of his close encounter with the swing and was about to ask her how she knew of that event, when he saw her looking at his back.

  He glanced over his shoulder, briefly startled by the green canvas backpack. Between Sherry and Sarah, and a breast thrown in for good measure, he had forgotten he was carrying it.

  He stared at it for a moment, trying to place its reason for being there, when it came to him.

  “Chick took me shopping for some clothes,” he said with more than a little pride.

  Sarah shook her head. “Please tell me you didn’t let Chick influence your buying decisions.”

  He explained to her his
preference for shirts of a solid color and pants without patches. He did not tell her about the maroon sunglasses however.

  “Good for you Alex.” She was once again staring at him, but this time her eyes were playful and her voice mischievous.

  “Be who you want to be. Dress anyway you like. Do not let anyone try to shape you into something you are not. It’s important you stand up for your beliefs, even if others think them wrong.”

  In the lobby, a girl screamed. It was loud enough to cause Alex to flinch.

  “Sarah, you have a customer,” a male voice said from opposite the door.

  “Tonight then, on the porch,” Sarah said.

  She touched his arm, very close to the spot where Sherry’s breast had been, and led him out of the room.

  “I see fire!” the girl in the lobby shouted. “It’s bright! My eyes! It’s burning my eyes!”

  Her male companion, who looked panic-stricken, held her up as she came through the door. For a brief instant, she looked at Alex as she passed him. Her eyes were blood red.

  “Fire!” she cried to him before she was ushered into the calming room.

  Alex felt the need to address the drug issue as they worked their way back to the house. The spectacle at the Free Clinic had shaken him to the core. Chick, however, wanted no part of it.

  “As I said before, some have problems, especially first timers.”

  Alex let it go at that, and, for the remainder of the trip, they walked in silence.

  HOME

  After they arrived at the house on Ashbury Street, Chick disappeared and Alex went to the bedroom to try on his clothes.

  He went with black pants, a white, loose fitting shirt, the vest and boots. He completed the ensemble with a belt buckled by a brass peace sign. He felt a bit silly and was thankful no mirrors were present to confirm that conclusion.

  No mention was made of his manner of dress at the dinner table where, once again, everyone present, including Sarah, ignored him. He wanted to know what happened to the fire girl and was hoping Chick would bring up the subject, but he never did. The talk again centered on the day’s events of all seated with the exception of Sarah, who had the most exciting day of all. She did not speak one word during the entire meal.

  Conflicted and confused, Alex decided to skip Sarah’s storytelling. The embarrassment of the previous evening meant he would need to part the beads this time and enter the domain of the women and children. So far, no man in the house had crossed that threshold and lived to tell about it. Even his desire to see and hear Sarah would not allow him to be first.

  After dinner, he sat on the porch, on an old rocking chair, with Jezebel, his sole companion, on his lap. The warm evening brought out many of the streets residents. Flower children roamed the sidewalks and the street. He thought of downtown Baltimore during a weekday lunch hour, and the heavy foot traffic of working men and women.

  He would sometimes eat his lunch on a bench outside his workplace and watch the masses rush from place to place. There were always attractive girls walking around him. He would often look their way as he ate, thinking he could fall in love with them all, and if one stopped to talk to him, just one, his heart would break out of his chest in excitement.

  “It was a short story tonight. You didn’t miss much.”

  He had closed his eyes for an instant, and now Sarah stood in front of him.

  “The children were tired after playing in the park all day.”

  Alex was about to explain himself when he realized that she was talking to the cat.

  “I’m disappointed in you Jezebel, electing the warmth of a near stranger to my delightful night tales.”

  Sarah sat on the chair next to him and scratched Jezebel’s head. The cat settled in on his lap, purring blissfully.

  “Once again a man comes between a perfectly good relationship,” she said as she stroked the cat into a higher state of bliss.

  They left the porch a short time later. Sarah had taken Jezebel from Alex and gently lowered her on to another chair where she fell instantly asleep.

  Sarah wore the same white dress as earlier in the day, but now she once again wore a ring of flowers atop her hair and sandals on her feet. Many of the young men they passed stared at her as Alex had once stared at the girls of Baltimore. On this evening, a few were courageous enough to ask where she was going and she always answered with the same word, home.

  The park was alive with people. Music played from transistor radios. Blankets dotted the grass, as did guitarists, flutists, and bongo players. Vendors hawked their wares, selling everything from snowballs to hand-made jewelry. The smell of marijuana hung heavily in the still summer air. Every so often a police officer, on his beat would walk by, not reacting in the least to the pot smokers around him.

  “The police let us alone in the park, unless we make trouble,” Sarah said. “Don’t let them catch you smoking on the street though.”

  “You’d never know it by Chick,” Alex said as they approached Hippie Hill. “He smokes the stuff everywhere.”

  “Chick is Chick,” she said in a way that made him wonder if there was a history between them.

  “Do you mind waiting by yourself for a little while?” she asked him once they had settled by the hill’s apex.

  Without waiting for a reply, she removed her sandals and ran away. She laughed as she left him and he smiled at that. It was only the second time he had heard her laugh, and he loved the sound.

  She stayed on the hill until the stars was bright behind her. At times, she danced in the pockets of shadow and moonlight, at other times she stood with arms and head raised to the night sky.

  Alex watched her throughout. Many walked around him, but none came near the dancer on the hill. On the cusp of a knoll, with a solitary tree as a companion, she danced alone.

  A different Sarah sat next to him upon her return. She was in good spirits, cheerful and bubbly. Her spirits were so high that he decided to put his ‘fire girl’ questions on hold for the time being.

  The crowds had diminished in the last hour, and the vendors had departed with the sunset. As far as Alex could tell, it was mostly flower children left. They spread out on the hill, a few on blankets, and others on the grass.

  “Some spend the night in the park when the weather is warm enough, even if they have their own place,” Sarah said as she looked down the hill.

  Many of the assemblage had formed into circles where musicians played and sang and men and women danced. Candles and flashlights animated the hill in light and shadow.

  “It’s a beautiful sight, isn’t it?” she asked.

  Alex turned to look at her. A current of air favored her at that moment, brushing the hair from her face. She gazed down the hill and her eyes sparkled in wonder. The light from the distant candles caressed her face, as a brush would stroke a painting.

  “Yes,” he said. “It is.”

  “I came here when I was sixteen,” she began. “That was two years ago. In those early days, everything was right with the world. The few of us who populated the Haight-Ashbury were idealists. We came to start a new society, free of strife, free of war, emboldened by the possibility of change.” A smile creased her face.

  “In those days it wasn’t all drugs and music. We worked at change. We saw a future of endless possibilities.”

  “More came by the day. Dreamers, poets, and idealists all joined our ranks. By the spring of 1966, we numbered in the thousands. Change was in the air, you could feel it, you could touch it. The pageants, the festivals, the concerts, the parades, everything pointed to a new order. We smoked marijuana for enlightenment, not casual pleasure. We knew we were on to something wonderful.”

  She turned toward him. “We were so close, Alex, so close.”

  Sarah was now facing him. She was so beautiful that she stole his breath each time he saw her, and she had just called him by name. He felt his heart pound in his chest.

  “I’m so sorry. The story I told to the child
ren earlier had a better ending,” she said and turned to face the hill.

  “Some good came of it though, and maybe the bright candles we lit then, and the smaller ones we light now, will one day become just one perfect flame.”

  They were both content to watch the revelry below them, each lost in their own thoughts. For several minutes, time was measured by the flickering of candlelight.

  “Their light once matched the stars in the sky,” Sarah said.

  She stood and held out her hand to him.

  “It’s late. We should walk home.”

  As they left the hill, Alex thought of dreams, paintings, and songs, and the mystery of all three.

  A MORNING WALK

  Sarah told him, after breakfast, she would not be at the park the next couple of nights. A two-night concert at the Fillmore meant busy evenings at the Free Clinic. She always assisted on concert nights, when the calming room saw overflow business. The fact that the show’s headliner, Big Brother and the Holding Company, had a crowd-pleasing lead singer by the name of Janice Joplin would not help matters at all.

  Alex was disheartened and moving towards depression when she mentioned her report time was noon, and she would have the mornings free. She gladly accepted his offer of morning walks to the Golden Gate Park or Haight Street.

  “You’re my sounding board,” Sarah confided to him. “I can tell you things, because you listen to what I’m saying. You don’t entirely understand my lifestyle yet and you might not agree with everything I say, but you listen.”

  An hour later, they were walking together, a girl in white with a flower in her hair and a person self-consciously wearing hippie attire, on a direct path toward Haight Street.

  He had fine-tuned his article on the porch stoop, by the light of a street lamp, until the early morning hours. He nearly overslept because of that, and barely beat out the early stages of the bathroom line.

  This morning he was hand carrying his writings to the Western Union office, on the lower end of Haight Street, with Sarah by his side. They were halfway to their destination when he decided to try his luck by asking her about the fate of the fire girl.