Bones of The Moon

Jonathan Carroll

Bones of the Moon

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this novel are either fictitious or are used fictitiously.

To Phyllis Westberg.

Here is another box for you.

It is the only one I knew how to make by

hand.

Part One

1

The Axe Boy lived downstairs. We were friendly because he was forever walking an ugly little dog I patted when I bumped into them in the hall.

As you've seen from the pictures, he was nothing special to look at. The only odd thing I noticed was his eyeglasses: they were almost always dirty – that foggy, smudged look which makes you want to take out your own hanky and give them a good cleaning.

«A good boy.» Why do newspapers always use terms like that? «Everyone who knew him thought of the murderer as a good boy who loved his parents, was a member of the Eagle Scouts and spent his spare time collecting Asian stamps.»

Even my wonderful husband Da

«Da

Da

_I_ forgive nothing. If you stole my orange crayon in the fifth grade, you're still on my hit list, buster.

We were eating breakfast and Da

«He says he didn't know what came over him.»

«Oh, really? Well, I hope the next thing that comes over him is a noose!»

«Cullen, you've interrupted me four times since I began reading this article to you. Would you like me to go on, or would you rather do a monologue?»

But he smiled when he said this because he wasn't really angry. When Da

«You can go on, but he doesn't deserve any sympathy.»

Da

«Da

«I'm not going to 'start'. It's just that whenever I read about something like this, I get all guilty. You know what I mean? Why should we be so lucky? We still love each other, the baby's great, I make good money. . . .»

He shrugged and drank his coffee. There wasn't anything I could say because he was right – we _were_ lucky people, and if I could do anything about it, it would stay that way for the next fifty years. I fell in love with Da

We met in college in New Jersey and were introduced by the girl Da

He was in love with her. But at the time I was in love with Jim Vanderberg, so I didn't pay much attention to Da

Jim and I later broke up over an advanced case of apathy. And three months after their marriage in junior year, Evelyn Hernuss James died in a car crash with her mother and father on their way home from one of Da

I had taken the semester off to campaign for a Presidential peace candidate and was in Chicago when I heard about her death. There was little I could do besides write Da

In what seemed a week, I received a thick letter back from Da

All of my «Earth Mother» instincts woke right up. Believe me, I had no intention of loving him – I was there to be his friend in need. I had also decided I was going to be «off» love that semester. I was going to be serious, chaste, industrious, unapproachable . . . and eat only whole-grain foods.

We spent a lot of time together. He needed someone he could cry in front of; I needed someone who would make me feel a little less self-involved. Things worked out fine.

That was the year he set a school record for scoring and, hate sports as much as I did, I went to as many games as possible. At the begi

When college was over, Da

European pro basketball turned out to be rough and often about as subtle as a brick over the head. The finesse and ballet of the game at its best in the United States is lost. American players who come over are often appalled at the steamroller way they go at it in the «elegant» part of the world.

Da

I was working for a magazine in New York as a researcher and feeling lonely most of the time. Live in New York when you're rich or in love, but avoid it when all you have is a job, a smelly apartment on Tenth Street and an empty dance card. That was the year I spent devouring all the books you're only supposed to read at the beach in the summer. I learned how to cook, and thanked God someone had had the compassion to invent television.