Where I'm Calling From

a red bow to the paper.
    “According to all accounts, it was a torrid affair that lasted for some months,” Morgan continued. “Right up until a short time ago, in fact. A week ago, to be exact. On that day—it was in the evening—he announced to his wife—they’d been married for twenty years—he announced to his wife that he wanted a divorce. You can imagine how the fool woman took it, coming out of the blue like that, so to speak.
    There was quite a row. The whole family got into it. She ordered him out of the house then and there.
    But just as the fellow was leaving, his son threw a can of tomato soup at him and hit him in the forehead.
    It caused a concussion that sent the man to the hospital. His condition is quite serious.”
    Morgan drew on his pipe and gazed at Myers.
    I’ve never heard such a story,” Mrs
    Morgan said. “Edgar, that’s disgusting.”
    “Horrible,” Paula said.
    Myers grinned.
    “Now there’s a tale for you, Mr. Myers,” Morgan said, catching the grin and narrowing his eyes. “Think of the story you’d have if you could get inside that man’s head.”
    “Or her head,” Mrs Morgan said. “The wife’s. Think of her story. To be betrayed in such fashion after twenty years. Think how she must feel.”
    “But imagine what the poor boy must be going through,” Paula said. “Imagine, having almost killed his father.”
    “Yes, that’s all true,” Morgan said. “But here’s something I don’t think any of you has thought about.
    Think about this for a moment. Mr. Myers, are you listening? Tell me what you think of this. Put yourself in the shoes of that eighteen-year-old coed who fell in love with a married man. Think about her for a moment, and then you see the possibilities for your story.”
    Morgan nodded and leaned back in the chair with a satisfied expression.
    “I’m afraid I don’t have any sympathy for her,” Mrs Morgan said. “I can imagine the sort she is. We all know what she’s like, that kind preys on older men. I don’t have any sympathy for him, either—the man, the chaser, no, I don’t. I’m afraid my sympathies in this case are entirely with the wife and son.”
    “It would take a Tolstoy to tell it and tell it right,” Morgan said. “No less than a Tolstoy. Mr. Myers, the water is still hot.”
    “Time to go,” Myers said.
    He stood up and threw his cigarette into the fire.
    “Stay,” Mrs Morgan said. “We haven’t gotten acquainted yet. You don’t know how we have… speculated about you. Now that we’re together at last, stay a little while. It’s such a pleasant surprise.”
    “We appreciated the card and your note,” Paula said.
    “The card?” Mrs Morgan said.
    Myers sat down.
    “We decided not to mail any cards this year,” Paula said. “I didn’t get around to it when I should have, and it seemed futile to do it at the last minute.”
    “You’ll have another one, Mrs Myers?” Morgan said, standing in front of her now with his hand on her cup. “You’ll set an example for your husband.”
    “It was good,” Paula said. “It warms you.”
    “Right,” Morgan said. “It warms you. That’s right. Dear, did you hear Mrs Myers? It warms you. That’s very good. Mr. Myers?” Morgan said and waited. “You’ll join us?”
    “All right,” Myers said and let Morgan take the cup.
    The dog began to whine and scratch at the door.
    “That dog. I don’t know what’s gotten into that dog,” Morgan said. He went to the kitchen and this time Myers distinctly heard Morgan curse as he slammed the kettle onto a burner.
    Mrs Morgan began to hum. She picked up a half-wrapped package, cut a piece of tape, and began sealing the paper.
    Myers lighted a cigarette. He dropped the match in his coaster. He looked at his watch.
    Mrs Morgan raised her head. “I believe I hear singing,” she said. She listened. She rose from her chair and went to the front window. “It is singing. Edgar!” she called.
    Myers and Paula went to the window.
    “I haven’t seen carolers in years,” Mrs Morgan said.
    “What is it?” Morgan said. He had the tray and cups. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing’s wrong, dear. It’s carolers. There they are over there, across the street,” Mrs Morgan said.
    “Mrs Myers,” Morgan said, extending the tray. “Mr. Myers. Dear.”
    “Thank you,” Paula said.
    “Muchas gracias,” Myers said.
    Morgan put the tray down and came back to the window with his cup. Young people were