Call If You Need Me Read Free

ARVER
    “The Art of Fiction LXXVI ”
    Paris Review
, summer 1983

UNCOLLECTED STORIES

Kindling
    It was the middle of August and Myers was between lives. The only thing different about this time from the other times was that this time he was sober. He’d just spent twenty-eight days at a drying-out facility. But during this period his wife took it into her head to go down the road with another drunk, a friend of theirs. The man had recently come into some money and had been talking about buying into a bar and restaurant in the eastern part of the state.
    Myers called his wife, but she hung up on him. She wouldn’t even talk to him, let alone have him anywhere near the house. She had a lawyer and a restraining order. So he took a few things, boarded a bus, and went to live near the ocean in a room in a house owned by a man named Sol who had run an ad in the paper.
    Sol was wearing jeans and a red T-shirt when he opened the door. It was about ten o’clock at night and Myers had just gotten out of a cab. Under the porch light Myers could see that Sol’s right arm was shorter than his other arm, and the hand and fingers were withered. He didn’t offer either his good left hand or his withered hand for Myers to shake, and this was fine with Myers. Myers felt plenty rattled as it was.
    You just called, right? Sol said. You’re here to see the room. Come on in.
    Myers gripped his suitcase and stepped inside.
    This is my wife. This is Bonnie, Sol said.
    Bonnie was watching TV but moved her eyes to see who it was coming inside. She pushed the button on a device she held in her hand and the volume went off. She pushed it again and thepicture disappeared. Then she got up off the sofa onto her feet. She was a fat girl. She was fat all over and she huffed when she breathed.
    I’m sorry it’s so late, Myers said. Nice to meet you.
    It’s all right, Bonnie said. Did my husband tell you on the phone what we’re asking?
    Myers nodded. He was still holding the suitcase.
    Well, this is the living room, Sol said, as you can see for yourself. He shook his head and brought the fingers of his good hand up to his chin. I may as well tell you that we’re new at this. We never rented a room to anybody before. But it’s just back there not being used, and we thought what the hell. A person can always use a little extra.
    I don’t blame you a bit, Myers said.
    Where are you from? Bonnie said. You’re not from anywhere around town.
    My wife wants to be a writer, Sol said. Who, what, where, why, and how much?
    I just got here, Myers said. He moved the suitcase to his other hand. I got off the bus about an hour ago, read your ad in the paper, and called up.
    What sort of work do you do? Bonnie wanted to know.
    I’ve done everything, Myers said. He set the suitcase down and opened and closed his fingers. Then he picked up the suitcase again.
    Bonnie didn’t pursue it. Sol didn’t either, though Myers could see he was curious.
    Myers took in a photograph of Elvis Presley on top of the TV. Elvis’s signature ran across the breast of his white sequined jacket. He moved a step closer.
    The King, Bonnie said.
    Myers nodded but didn’t say anything. Alongside the picture of Elvis was a wedding picture of Sol and Bonnie. In the picture Sol was dressed up in a suit and tie. Sol’s good strong left arm reached around Bonnie’s waist as far as it would go. Sol’s righthand and Bonnie’s right hand were joined over Sol’s belt buckle. Bonnie wasn’t going anywhere if Sol had anything to say about it. Bonnie didn’t mind. In the picture Bonnie wore a hat and was all smiles.
    I love her, Sol said, as if Myers had said something to the contrary.
    How about that room you were going to show me? Myers said.
    I knew there was something we were forgetting, Sol said.
    They moved out of the living room into the kitchen, Sol first, then Myers, carrying his suitcase, and then Bonnie. They passed through the kitchen and turned left just before the back