Read Online Love and Hydrogen by Jim Shepard - Free Book Online Page A

“Put on Lon Chaney.”
    â€œYou wanna see it?” he asked.
    â€œYeah,” she said.
    Here she was worrying about him. He hunted around, throwing things aside, and found it. He slid it out of its box and into the VCR. He hit Fast Forward.
    â€œShe may not be the one there,” he said. “She may not be the one who comes in.”
    â€œOn call,” his mother said.
    â€œOn call,” he said. “She may not be the one on call tonight.”
    â€œNo, she may not,” his mother said. She sounded okay.
    He stopped the tape and hit Play at the forty-five-minute mark. But it wasn’t
The Phantom of the Opera.
The babysitter had put things in the wrong boxes. Instead it was something he didn’t recognize: guys were trying to rope black horses in a corral and the horses were bucking and rearing. It was in black-and-white and the horses’ eyes were huge.
    His mother made a noise. He went to hit Stop, but she said, “Leave it on.”
    â€œWhat is this?” he said, but she didn’t hear.
    Even at this point, he wasn’t trying to help as much as show off how sad he was. He spent all his free time striking poses, whining and complaining.
    â€œWhat happens when you really hate who you are?” he asked.
    â€œIt’s a problem,” his mother said.
    His father had left the mute on. In the movie, a little truck was driving along a desert road.
    Sunday afternoons Anson and his father went to the movies. Jeanne had started showing up. His dad had asked him not to tell. Now whenever he was with his mother he imagined LIAR painted across his face. A week ago, she’d said something about the movies and he’d thought: She already knows. She knows all about me.
    The cellular rang. His mother picked it off the arm of the sofa, hit the Talk button with her thumb, and held it to her ear. She listened.
    â€œShould we come down?” she said. Anson stopped the movie and ejected it. He looked around for the
Phantom
and found it without its box in the back of the cabinet.
    â€œShouldn’t we come down, then?” she said again.
    LIAR, he thought to himself. LI—AR.
    â€œSssh,” his mother said. She went back to listening.
    â€œAll right,” she said. She hit the Talk button again and tossed the phone onto the cushions.
    â€œDid you really clean up upstairs?” she asked.
    â€œI will,” Anson said.
    She sniffled. She cleared her throat.
    â€œHow’s Johnny?” Anson said.
    â€œYour father doesn’t think he should leave,” she said. “You know how he loves that dog.”
    He couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic. “Is he dying?” he asked.
    â€œHe might be. They’ll know in a little while,” she said.
    â€œIs that what the vet said?” he asked.
    His mother shrugged. She put her chin in her palm and slapped her cheek a few times with her fingers. “You find it?” she asked, gesturing at the videotape.
    He loaded it in and hit Play and then Fast Forward so he could watch it fly by. He passed the Phantom’s shadow against the wall while he’s listening to the beautiful Christine. He passed his bringing the chandelier down on everybody’s heads. He passed Christine’s telling her boyfriend that the Phantom had a voice like an angel. The shock when they realize that the way to the Phantom’s lair is through the mirror. He hit Play when Christine got to the other side, the secret side, of the opera house.
    They watched the Phantom escorting her on horseback, farther and farther down through aqueduct-like tunnels, and then by gondola, her white veil trailing in the water.
    â€œIf we get a digital receiver we could run all three of the inputs through it,” his mother said.
    She chuckled at the Phantom standing at the end of the gondola and leaning over the black water, poling them along.
    â€œIt could just be me and you if it had to be,” Anson told