Where I'm Calling From

others, than just to live off by itself somewhere.
    It is sad, the boy said. But it’s Nature.
    Have you ever killed one of those? she asked. You know what I mean.
    He nodded. He said, Two or three times I’ve shot a goose, then a minute or two later I’d see another goose turn back from the rest and begin to circle and call over the goose that lay on the ground.
    Did you shoot it too? she asked with concern.
    If I could, he answered. Sometimes I missed.
    And it didn’t bother you? she said.
    Never, he said. You can’t think about it when you’re doing it. You see, I love everything there is about geese. I love to just watch them even when I’m not hunting them. But there are all kinds of contradictions in life. You can’t think about the contradictions.
    After dinner he turned up the furnace and helped her bathe the baby. He marveled again at the infant who had half his features, the eyes and mouth, and half the girl’s, the chin and the nose. He powdered the tiny body and then powdered in between the fingers and toes. He watched the girl put the baby into its diaper and pajamas.
    He emptied the bath into the shower basin and then he went upstairs. It was cold and overcast outside.
    His breath streamed in the air. The grass, what there was of it, looked like canvas, stiff and gray under the street light. Snow lay in piles beside the walk. A car went by and he heard sand grinding under the tires. He let himself imagine what it might be like tomorrow, geese milling in the air over his head, the gun plunging against his shoulder.
    Then he locked the door and went downstairs.
    In bed they tried to read but both of them fell asleep, she first, letting the magazine sink to the quilt. His eyes closed, but he roused himself, checked the alarm, and turned off the lamp.
    He woke to the baby’s cries. The light was on out in the living room. He could see the girl standing beside the crib rocking the baby in her arms. In a minute she put the baby down, turned out the light and came back to bed. It was two o’clock in the morning and the boy fell asleep once more.
    The baby’s cries woke him again. This time the girl continued to sleep. The baby cried fitfully for a few minutes and stopped. The boy listened, then began to doze.
    He opened his eyes. The living room light was burning. He sat up and turned on the lamp.
    I don’t know what’s wrong, the girl said, walking back and forth with the baby. I’ve changed her and given her something more to e to eat. But she keeps crying. She won’t stop crying. I’m so tired I’m afraid I might drop her.
    You come back to bed, the boy said. I’ll hold her for a while.
    He got up and took the baby while the girl went to lie down.
    Just rock her for a few minutes, the girl said from the bedroom. Maybe she’ll go back to sleep.
    The boy sat on the sofa and held the baby. He jiggled it in his lap until its eyes closed. His own eyes were near closing. He rose carefully and put the baby back in the crib.
    It was fifteen minutes to four and he still had forty-five minutes that he could sleep. He crawled into bed.
    But a few minutes later the baby began to cry once more. This time they both got up, and the boy swore.
    For God’s sake what’s the matter with you? the girl said to him. Maybe she’s sick or something. Maybe we shouldn’t have given her the bath.
    The boy picked up the baby. The baby kicked its feet and was quiet. Look, the boy said, I really don’t think there’s anything wrong with her.
    How do you know that? the girl said. Here, let me have her. I know that I ought to give her something, but I don’t know what I should give her.
    After a few minutes had passed and the baby had not cried, the girl put the baby down again. The boy and the girl looked at the baby, and then they looked at each other as the baby opened its eyes and began to cry.
    The girl took the baby. Baby, baby, she said with tears in her eyes.
    Probably it’s something on her stomach, the boy said.
    The girl didn’t answer. She went on rocking the baby in her arms, paying no attention now to the boy.
    The boy waited a minute longer then went to the kitchen and put on water for coffee. He drew on his woolen underwear and buttoned up. Then he got into his clothes.
    What are you doing? the girl said to him.
    Going hunting, he said.
    I don’t think you should, she said. Maybe you could go later on in the day if the baby is all right then.
    But I don’t think you should go hunting this