Nine Volt Heart Read Online Free PDF Page A

let’s go that way. There are too many street people
out at night. Let’s just walk up Twelfth toward Volunteer Park.”
    As we headed up Pike toward Twelfth, I found myself
chattering like a fool, having not spoken to anyone other than gallery guards,
hotel clerks, and flight attendants for more than a week. She questioned me
about the avant-garde show at the Victoria and Albert and then what I saw at
the Tate Britain.
    “I confess,” I said, though I had been up so long, I would
confess anything, “I went to the Tate only to see the Turners this time. I have
this cross-sensory experience whenever I stare at what he does with light.”
    “You mean synesthesia?”
    “Exactly. I’m looking into the light and seeing the image
behind it, but then I hear sounds that I also feel in my fingertips. Do you know
what I’m talking about?”
    “I can taste certain music.”
    “Yeah, some songs leave a bad taste in my mouth, but I make
it a rule never to name names.” I was trying to be clever, but she was serious.
    “I mean that certain parts of my mouth respond, like when you
get lemon juice on the sour receptors or salt on that part of your mouth. The
sound. High C tastes like—oh, never mind. It doesn’t anymore. Did you see any
of the current shows?” she asked.
    “Dames Maggie and Judi together in the West End.”
    “You are so lucky. I haven’t been out of the country since—”
Her voice trailed off, and she didn’t finish the thought.
    “What do you do with yourself most days?” I asked, thinking
perhaps I should know her, but jetlag kept me from remembering whether Cynthia
had ever mentioned her cousin Susi.
    “Oh, my job and music. That’s about all. I tried to teach
myself to paint this winter, but I ended up back with just music.” She shrugged
in this charming way, gesturing with both her hands as she talked. My jetlagged
mind wanted to read more warmth in those gestures than such a sweet-sounding
woman could intend for a man she just met. In my scrambled state I hoped it was
real. She said, “In addition to teaching at the school, I have a dozen private
students, but I put that on pause while we work on the new curriculum and the
foundation grant.”
    “Teaching is nice,” I said, because I’m a feather-brained
idiot and I just wanted to keep hearing her voice.
    “I’m in awe of what you do,” she said, “and I’ve heard
stories—”
    “Not a single one is true, Susi. Let’s pretend I’m a
guitarist you picked up in a bar.”
    She laughed and the sound of that music nearly brought me to
my knees to beg her to stay with me forever, hoping she’d laughed like that
again. However, I knew it was jetlag.
    “Seattle has changed since I was here last,” I said,
thinking I could make a real conversation. “Designer pizza has taken over the
storefront where I got my first tattoo. The same guys I knew in high school or
their first cousins were still standing near the bar, listening to a band with
their hands in their pockets.”
    “Did you want to stay and listen to music? We can go back”
    “Not at all, since I’m in your company. Do you want me to
show you the tattoo?”
    Foolishly, I had embarrassed her, for a rosy flush showed on
her neck under the streetlamp.
    “I meant it as a joke, Susi.”
    “Oh. I’m so gullible. My brother loves to tease me because
he knows I fall for it every time.”
    “As a gentleman, I promise not to take advantage of that
confession. Though you are the one who took a risk, picking up a guitarist in a
bar.”
    “Right,” Susi said, laughing again. The sound of her
laughter could slay me outright rather than killing me softly. “She warned me
that you tease. I’ll be on my guard.”
    “‘You’re leading me down a one-way street.’” I hadn’t meant
to say that out loud.
    “I’m sorry?”
    “It’s a line from Tim O’Brien.”
    “Hmm. I don’t remember that line. I haven’t been reading him
lately. I’m not afraid of the challenge, but I