Where I'm Calling From

a permanent squint. And she was sure her little finger was broken. She showed it to me. It looked purple. She bitched about us letting her sleep all night with her contacts in. She wanted to know didn’t anybody give a shit. She brought the finger up close and looked at it. She shook her head. She held the finger as far away as she could and looked some more. It was like she couldn’t believe the things that must have happened to her that night. Her face was puffy, and her hair was all over. She ran cold water on her finger. “God. Oh, God,” she said and cried some over the sink. But she’d made a serious pass at Patti, a declaration of love, and I didn’t have any sympathy.
    I was drinking Scotch and milk with a sliver of ice. Sheila was leaning on the drainboard. She watched me from her little slits of eyes. I took some of my drink. I didn’t say anything. She went back to telling me how bad she felt. She said she needed to see a doctor. She said she was going to wake Patti. She said she was quitting, leaving the state, going to Portland. That she had to say goodbye to Patti first. She kept on. She wanted Patti to drive her to the hospital for her finger and her eyes.
    “I’ll drive you,” I said. I didn’t want to do it, but I would.
    “I want Patti to drive me,” Sheila said.
    She was holding the wrist of her bad hand with her good hand, the little finger as big as a pocket flashlight. “Besides, we need to talk. I need to tell her I’m going to Portland. I need to say goodbye.”
    I said, “I guess I’ll have to tell her for you. She’s asleep.”
    Sheila turned mean. “‘We’re friends,” she said. “I have to talk to her. I have to tell her myself.”
    I shook my head. “She’s asleep. I just said so.”
    “We’re friends and we love each other,” Sheila said. “I have to say goodbye to her.”
    Sheila made to leave the kitchen.
    I started to get up. I said, “I said I’ll drive you.”
    “You’re drunk! You haven’t even been to bed yet.” She looked at her finger again and said, “Goddamn, why’d this have to happen?”
    “Not too drunk to drive you to the hospital,” I said.
    “I won’t ride with you!” Sheila yelled.
    “Suit yourself. But you’re not going to wake Patti. Lesbo bitch,” I said.
    “Bastard,” she said.
    That’s what she said, and then she went out of the kitchen and out the front door without using the bathroom or even washing her face. I got up and looked through the window. She was walking down the road toward Euclid. Nobody else was up. It was too early.
    I finished my drink and thought about fixing another one.
    I fixed it.
    Nobody saw any more of Sheila after that. None of us vitamin-related people, anyway. She walked to Euclid Avenue and out of our lives.
    Later on Patti said, “What happened to Sheila?” and I said, “She went to Portland.”
    I had the hots for Donna, the other member of the core group. We’d danced to some Duke Ellington records that night of the party. I’d held her pretty tight, smelled her hair, kept a hand low on her back as I moved her over the rug. It was great dancing with her. I was the only fellow at the party, and there were seven girls, six of them dancing with each other. It was great just looking around the living room.
    I was in the kitchen when Donna came in with her empty glass. We were alone for a bit. I got her into a little embrace. She hugged me back. We stood there and hugged.
    Then she said, “Don’t. Not now.”
    When I heard that “Not now,” I let go. I figured it was money in the bank.
    I’d been at the table thinking about that hug when Sheila came in with her finger.
    I thought some more about Donna. I finished the drink. I took the phone off the hook and headed for the bedroom. I took off my clothes and got in next to Patti. I lay for a while, winding down. Then I started in. But she didn’t wake up. Afterward, I closed my eyes.
    It was the afternoon when I opened them again. I was in bed alone. Rain was blowing against the window. A sugar doughnut was lying on Patti’s pillow, and a glass of old water was on the nightstand. I was still drunk and couldn’t figure anything out. I knew it was Sunday and close to Christmas. I ate the doughnut and drank the water. I went back to sleep until I heard Patti running the vacuum. She came into the bedroom and asked about Sheila. That’s when I told her, said she’d gone to Portland.
    A week or so into the new year, Patti and I were