Where I'm Calling From

tonight,” Olla said to Bud.
    “I’d still like to see him,” Fran said. “My sister has a little baby. But she and the baby live in Denver.
    When will I ever get to Denver? I have a niece I haven’t even seen.” Fran thought about this for a minute, and then she went back to eating.
    Olla forked some ham into her mouth. “Let’s hope he’ll drop off to sleep,” she said.
    Bud said, “There’s a lot more of everything. Have some more ham and sweet potatoes, everybody.”
    “I can’t eat another bite,” Fran said. She laid her fork on her plate. “It’s great, but I can’t eat any more.”
    “Save room,” Bud said. “Olla’s made rhubarb pie.”
    Fran said, “I guess I could eat a little piece of that. When everybody else is ready.”
    “Me, too,” I said. But I said it to be polite. I’d hated rhubarb pie since I was thirteen years old and had got sick on it, eating it with strawberry ice cream.
    We finished what was on our plates. Then we heard that damn peacock again. The thing was on the roof this time. We could hear it over our heads. It made a ticking sound as it walked back and forth on the shingles.
    Bud shook his head. “Joey will knock it off in a minute. He’ll get tired and turn in pretty soon,” Bud said.
    “He sleeps in one of them trees.”
    The bird let go with its cry once more. “May-awe!” it went. Nobody said anything. What was there to say?
    Then Olla said, “He wants in, Bud.”
    “Well, he can’t come in,” Bud said. “We got company, in case you hadn’t noticed. These people don’t want a goddamn old bird in the house. That dirty bird and your old pair of teeth! What’re people going to think?” He shook his head. He laughed. We all laughed. Fran laughed along with the rest of us.
    “He’s not dirty. Bud,” Olla said. “What’s gotten into you? You like Joey. Since when did you start calling him dirty?”
    “Since he shit on the rug that time,” Bud said. “Pardon the French,” he said to Fran. “But, I’ll tell you, sometimes I could wring that old bird’s neck for him. He’s not even worth killing, is he, Olla?
    Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he’ll bring me up out of bed with that cry of his. He’s not worth a nickel—right, Olla?”
    Olla shook her head at Bud’s nonsense. She moved a few lima beans around on her plate.
    “How’d you get a peacock in the first place?” Fran wanted to know.
    Olla looked up from her plate. She said, “I always dreamed of having me a peacock. Since I was a girl and found a picture of one in a magazine. I thought it was the most beautiful thing I ever saw. I cut the picture out and put it over my bed. I kept that picture for the longest time. Then when Bud and I got this place, I saw my chance. I said, ‘Bud, I want a peacock.’ Bud laughed at the idea.”
    “I finally asked around,” Bud said. “I heard tell of an old boy who raised them over in the next county.
    Birds of paradise, he called them. We paid a hundred bucks for that bird of paradise,” he said. He smacked his forehead. “God Almighty, I got me a woman with expensive tastes.” He grinned at Olla.
    “Bud,” Olla said, “you know that isn’t true. Besides everything else, Joey’s a good watchdog,” she said to Fran. “We don’t need a watchdog with Joey. He can hear just about anything.”
    “If times get tough, as they might, I’ll put Joey in a pot,” Bud said. “Feathers and all.”
    “Bud! That’s not funny,” Olla said. But she laughed and we got a good look at her teeth again.
    The baby started up once more. It was serious crying this time. Olla put down her napkin and got up from the table.
    Bud said, “If it’s not one thing, it’s another. Bring him on out here, Olla.”
    “I’m going to,” Olla said, and went to get the baby.
    The peacock wailed again, and I could feel the hair on the back of my neck. I looked at Fran. She picked up her napkin and then put it down. I looked toward the kitchen window. It was dark outside. The window was raised, and there was a screen in the frame. I thought I heard the bird on the front porch.
    Fran turned her eyes to look down the hall. She was watching for Olla and the baby.
    After a time, Olla came back with it. I looked at the baby and drew a breath. Olla sat down at the table with the baby. She held it up under its arms so it could stand on her lap and face us. She looked at Fran and then at me. She wasn’t blushing now. She waited for one of us to