Where I'm Calling From (7 page)

“What about Alaska, you guys?” Carl said.

“There’s nothing in Alaska,” Jack said.

“He’s on a bummer,” Mary said.

“What’ll you guys do in Alaska?” Carl said.

“There’s nothing to do in Alaska,” Jack said. He put his feet under the coffee table. Then he moved them out under the light once more. “Who wants a new pair of shoes?” Jack said.

“What’s that noise?” Helen said,

They listened. Something scratched at the door.

“It sounds like Cindy,” Carl said. “I’d better let her in.”

“While you’re up, get me a Popsicle,” Helen said. She put her head back and laughed.

“I’ll have another one too, honey,” Mary said. “What did I say? I mean Carl,” Mary said. “Excuse me. I thought I was talking to Jack.”

“Popsicles all around,” Carl said. “You want a Popsicle, Jack?”

“What?”

“You want an orange Popsicle?”

“An orange one,” Jack said.

“Four Popsicles coming up,” Carl said.

In a while he came back with the Popsicles and handed them around. He sat down and they heard the scratching again.

“I knew I was forgetting something,” Carl said. He got up and opened the front door.

“Good Christ,” he said, “if this isn’t something. I guess Cindy went out for dinner tonight. Hey, you guys, look at this.”

The cat carried a mouse into the living room, stopped to look at them, then carried the mouse down the hall.

“Did you see what I just saw?” Mary said. “Talk about a bummer.”

Carl turned the hall light on. The cat carried the mouse out of the hall and into the bathroom.

“She’s eating this mouse,” Carl said.

“I don’t think I want her eating a mouse in my bathroom,” Helen said. “Make her get out of there. Some of the children’s things are in there.”

“She’s not going to get out of here,” Carl said.

“What about the mouse?” Mary said.

“What the hell,” Carl said. “Cindy’s got to learn to hunt if we’re going to Alaska.”

“Alaska?” Helen said. “What’s all this about Alaska?”

“Don’t ask me,” Carl said. He stood near the bathroom door and watched the cat. “Mary and Jack said they’re going to Alaska. Cindy’s got to learn to hunt.”

Mary put her chin in her hands and stared into the hall.

“She’s eating the mouse,” Carl said.

Helen finished the last of the corn chips. “I told him I didn’t want Cindy eating a mouse in the bathroom.

Carl?” Helen said.

“What?”

“Make her get out of the bathroom, I said,” Helen said.

“For Christ’s sake,” Carl said.

“Look,” Mary said. “Ugh. The goddamn cat is coming in here,” Mary said.

“What’s she doing?” Jack said.

The cat dragged the mouse under the coffee table. She lay down under the table and licked the mouse.

She held the mouse in her paws and licked slowly, from head to tail.

“The cat’s high,” Carl said.

“It gives you the shivers,” Mary said.

“It’s just nature,” Carl said.

“Look at her eyes.” Mary said. “Look at the way she looks at us. She’s high, all right.”

Carl came over to the sofa and sat beside Mary. Mary inched toward Jack to give Carl room. She rested her hand on Jack’s knee. They watched the cat eat the mouse.

“Don’t you ever feed that cat?” Mary said to Helen. Helen laughed.

“You guys ready for another smoke?” Carl said.

“We have to go,” Jack said.

“What’s your hurry?” Carl said.

“Stay a little longer,” Helen said. “You don’t have to go yet.”

Jack stared at Mary, who was staring at Carl. Carl stared at something on the rug near his feet.

Helen picked through the M&M’s in her hand.

“I like the green ones best,” Helen said.

“I have to work in the morning,” Jack said.

“What a bummer he’s on,” Mary said. “You want to hear a bummer, folks? There’s a bummer.”

“Are you coming?” Jack said.

“Anybody want a glass of milk?” Carl said. “We’ve got some milk out there.”

“I’m too full of cream soda,” Mary said.

“There’s no more cream soda,” Carl said.

Helen laughed. She closed her eyes and then opened them and then laughed again.

“We have to go home,” Jack said. In a while he stood up and said, “Did we have coats? I don’t think we had coats.”

“What? I don’t think we had coats,” Mary said. She stayed seated.

“We’d better go,” Jack said.

“They have to go,” Helen said.

Jack put his hands under Mary’s shoulders and pulled her up.

“Good-bye, you guys,” Mary said. She embraced Jack. “I’m so full I can hardly move,” Mary said.

Helen laughed.

“Helen’s always finding something to laugh at,” Carl said, and Carl grinned. “What are you laughing at, Helen?”

“I don’t know. Something Mary said,” Helen said.

“What did I say?” Mary said.

“I can’t remember,” Helen said.

“We have to go,” Jack said.

“So long,” Carl said. “Take it easy.”

Mary tried to laugh.

“Let’s go,” Jack said.

“Night, everybody,” Carl said. “Night, Jack,” Jack heard Carl say very, very slowly.

Outside, Mary held Jack’s arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic.

She raised her head. “When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight.” She tightened her hold on his arm.

He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light.

“Come to bed,” she said.

“I’m coming,” he said.

He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom.

“Jack!” she yelled. “Jack!”

“Jesus Christ, it’s me!” he said. “I’m trying to get the light on.”

He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and began taking off his clothes. His knees trembled.

“Is there anything else to smoke?” she said.

“We don’t have anything,” he said.

“Then fix me a drink. We have something to drink. Don’t tell me we don’t have something to drink,” she said.

“Just some beer.”

They stared at each other.

“I’ll have a beer,” she said. “You really want a beer?”

She nodded slowly and chewed her lip.

He came back with the beer. She was sitting with his pillow on her lap. He gave her the can of beer and then crawled into bed and pulled the covers up.

“I forgot to take my pill,” she said.

“What?”

“I forgot my pill.”

He got out of bed and brought her the pill. She opened her eyes and he dropped the pill onto her outstretched tongue. She swallowed some beer with the pill and he got back in bed.

“Take this. I can’t keep my eyes open,” she said.

He set the can on the floor and then stayed on his side and stared into the dark hallway. She put her arm over his ribs and her fingers crept across his chest.

“What’s in Alaska?” she said.

He turned on his stomach and eased all the way to his side of the bed. In a moment she was snoring.

Just as he started to turn off the lamp, he thought he saw something in the hall. He kept staring and thought he saw it again, a pair of small eyes. His heart turned. He blinked and kept staring. He leaned over to look for something to throw. He picked up one of his shoes. He sat up straight and held the shoe with both hands. He heard her snoring and set his teeth. He waited. He waited for it to move once more, to make the slightest noise.

Bill and Arlene Miller were a happy couple. But now and then they felt they alone among their circle had been passed by somehow, leaving Bill to attend to his bookkeeping duties and Arlene occupied with secretarial chores. They talked about it sometimes, mostly in comparison with the lives of their neighbors, Harriet and Jim Stone. It seemed to the Millers that the Stones lived a fuller and brighter life.

The Stones were always going out for dinner, or entertaining at home, or traveling about the country somewhere in connection with Jim’s work.

The Stones lived across the hall from the Millers. Jim was a salesman for a machine-parts firm and often managed to combine business with pleasure trips, and on this occasion the Stones would be away for ten days, first to Cheyenne, then on to St. Louis to visit relatives. In their absence, the Millers would look after the Stones’ apartment, feed Kitty, and water the plants.

Bill and Jim shook hands beside the car. Harriet and Arlene held each other by the elbows and kissed lightly on the lips.

“Have fun,” Bill said to Harriet.

“We will,” said Harriet. “You kids have fun too.”

Arlene nodded.

Jim winked at her. “Bye, Arlene. Take good care of the old man.”

“I will,” Arlene said.

“Have fun,” Bill said.

“You bet,” Jim said, clipping Bill lightly on the arm. “And thanks again, you guys.”

The Stones waved as they drove away, and the Millers waved too.

“Well, I wish it was us,” Bill said.

“God knows, we could use a vacation,” Arlene said. She took his arm and put it around her waist as they climbed the stairs to their apartment.

After dinner Arlene said, “Don’t forget. Kitty gets liver flavor the first night.” She stood in the kitchen doorway folding the handmade tablecloth that Harriet had bought for her last year in Santa Fe.

Bill took a deep breath as he entered the Stones’ apartment. The air was already heavy and it was vaguely sweet. The sunburst clock over the television said half past eight. He remembered when Harriet had come home with the clock, how she had crossed the hall to show it to Arlene, cradling the brass case in her arms and talking to it through the tissue paper as if it were an infant.

Kitty rubbed her face against his slippers and then turned onto her side, but jumped up quickly as Bill moved to the kitchen and selected one of the stacked cans from the gleaming drainboard. Leaving the cat to pick at her food, he headed for the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror and then closed his eyes and then looked again. He opened the medicine chest. He found a container of pills and read the label—Harriet Stone. One each day as directed—and slipped it into his pocket. He went back to the kitchen, drew a pitcher of water, and returned to the living room. He finished watering, set the pitcher on the rug, and opened the liquor cabinet. He reached in back for the bottle of Chivas Regal. He took two drinks from the bottle, wiped his lips on his sleeve, and replaced the bottle in the cabinet.

Kitty was on the couch sleeping. He switched off the lights, slowly closing and checking the door. He had the feeling he had left something.

“What kept you?” Arlene said. She sat with her legs turned under her, watching television.

“Nothing. Playing with Kitty,” he said, and went over to her and touched her breasts.

“Let’s go to bed, honey,” he said.

The next day Bill took only ten minutes of the twenty-minute break allotted for the afternoon and left at fifteen minutes before five. He parked the car in the lot just as Arlene hopped down from the bus. He waited until she entered the building, then ran up the stairs to catch her as she stepped out of the elevator.

“Bill! God, you scared me. You’re early,” she said.

He shrugged. “Nothing to do at work,” he said.

She let him use her key to open the door. He looked at the door across the hall before following her inside.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said.

“Now?” She laughed. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing. Take your dress off.” He grabbed for her awkwardly, and she said, “Good God, Bill,”

He unfastened his belt.

Later they sent out for Chinese food, and when it arrived they ate hungrily, without speaking, and listened to records. “Let’s not forget to feed Kitty,” she said.

“I was just thinking about that,” he said. “I’ll go right over.”

He selected a can of fish flavor for the cat, then filled the pitcher and went to water. When he returned to the kitchen, the cat was scratching in her box. She looked at him steadily before she turned back to the litter. He opened all the cupboards and examined the canned goods, the cereals, the packaged foods, the cocktail and wine glasses, the china, the pots and pans. He opened the refrigerator. He sniffed some celery, took two bites of cheddar cheese, and chewed on an apple as he walked into the bedroom. The bed seemed enormous, with a fluffy white bedspread draped to the floor. He pulled out a nightstand drawer, found a half-empty package of cigarettes and stuffed them into his pocket. Then he stepped to the closet and was opening it when the knock sounded at the front door.

He stopped by the bathroom and flushed the toilet on his way.

“What’s been keeping you?” Arlene said. “You’ve been over here more than an hour.”

“Have I really?” he said.

“Yes, you have,” she said.

“I had to go to the toilet,” he said.

“You have your own toilet,” she said.

“I couldn’t wait,” he said.

That night they made love again.

In the morning he had Arlene call in for him. He showered, dressed, and made a light breakfast. He tried to start a book. He went out for a walk and felt better. But after a while, hands still in his pockets, he returned to the apartment. He stopped at the Stones’ door on the chance he might hear the cat moving about. Then he let himself in at his own door and went to the kitchen for the key.

Inside it seemed cooler than his apartment, and darker too. He wondered if the plants had something to do with the temperature of the air. He looked out the window, and then he moved slowly through each room considering everything that fell under his gaze, carefully, one object at a time. He saw ashtrays, items of furniture, kitchen utensils, the clock. He saw everything. At last he entered the bedroom, and the cat appeared at his feet. He stroked her once, carried her into the bathroom, and shut the door.

He lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He lay for a while with his eyes closed, and then he moved his hand under his belt. He tried to recall what day it was. He tried to remember when the Stones were due back, and then he wondered if they would ever return. He could not remember their faces or the way they talked and dressed. He sighed and with effort rolled off the bed to lean over the dresser and look at himself in the mirror.

He opened the closet and selected a Hawaiian shirt. He looked until he found Bermudas, neatly pressed and hanging over a pair of brown twill slacks. He shed his own clothes and slipped into the shorts and the shirt. He looked in the mirror again. He went to the living room and poured himself a drink and sipped it on his way back to the bedroom. He put on a blue shirt, a dark suit, a blue and white tie, black wing-tip shoes. The glass was empty and he went for another drink.

In the bedroom again, he sat on a chair, crossed his legs, and smiled, observing himself in the mirror.

The telephone rang twice and fell silent. He finished the drink and took off the suit. He rummaged through the top drawers until he found a pair of panties and a brassiere. He stepped into the panties and fastened the brassiere, then looked through the closet for an outfit. He put on a black and white checkered skirt and tried to zip it up. He put on a burgundy blouse that buttoned up the front. He considered her shoes, but understood they would not fit. For a long time he looked out the living-room window from behind the curtain. Then he returned to the bedroom and put everything away.

He was not hungry. She did not eat

much, either. They looked at each other shyly and smiled. She got up from the table and checked that the key was on the shelf and then she quickly cleared the dishes.

He stood in the kitchen doorway and smoked a cigarette and watched her pick up the key.

“Make yourself comfortable while I go across the hall,” she said. “Read the paper or something.” She closed her fingers over the key. He was, she said, looking tired.

He tried to concentrate on the news. He read the paper and turned on the television. Finally he went across the hall. The door was locked.

“It’s me. Are you still there, honey?” he called.

After a time the lock released and Arlene stepped outside and shut the door. “Was I gone so long?” she said.

“Well, you were,” he said.

“Was I?” she said. “I guess I must have been playing with Kitty.”

He studied her, and she looked away, her hand still resting on the doorknob.

“It’s funny,” she said. “You know—to go in someone’s place like that.”

He nodded, took her hand from the knob, and guided her toward their own door. He let them into their apartment.

“It is funny,” he said.

He noticed white lint clinging to the back of her sweater, and the color was high in her cheeks. He began kissing her on the neck and hair and she turned and kissed him back.

“Oh, damn,” she said. “Damn, damn,” she sang, girlishly clapping her hands. “I just remembered. I really and truly forgot to do what I went over there to do. I didn’t feed Kitty or do any watering.” She looked at him. “Isn’t that stupid?”

“I don’t think so,” he said. “Just a minute. I’ll get my cigarettes and go back with you.”

She waited until he had closed and locked their door, and then she took his arm at the muscle and said.

“I guess I should tell you. I found some pictures.”

He stopped in the middle of the hall. “What kind of pictures?”

“You can see for yourself,” she said, and she watched him.

“No kidding.” He grinned. “Where?”

“In a drawer,” she said.

“No kidding,” he said.

And then she said, “Maybe they won’t come back,” and was at once astonished at her words.

“It could happen,” he said. “Anything could happen.”

“Or maybe they’ll come back and…” but she did not finish.

They held hands for the short walk across the hall, and when he spoke she could barely hear his voice.

“The key,” he said. “Give it to me.”

“What?” she said. She gazed at the door.

“The key,” he said. “You have the key.”

“My God,” she said, “I left the key inside.”

He tried the knob. It was locked. Then she tried the knob. It would not turn. Her lips were parted, and her breathing was hard, expectant. He opened his arms and she moved into them.

“Don’t worry,” he said into her ear. “For God’s sake, don’t worry.”

They stayed there. They held each other. They leaned into the door as if against a wind, and braced themselves.