Where I'm Calling From

she wiped the outside of his ear.
    Inez was breathing through her nose. Lloyd heard the sound her breath made as it came and went. He heard a car pass on the street outside the house and, at the back of the house, down below his kitchen window, the clear snick-snick of pruning shears.
    “Well?” Inez said. She waited with her hands on her hips, frowning.
    “I can hear you,” he said. “I’m all right! I mean, I can hear. It doesn’t sound like you’re talking underwater anymore. It’s fine now. It’s okay. God, I thought for a while I was going to go crazy. But I feel fine now. I can hear everything. Listen, honey, I’ll make coffee. There’s some juice, too.”
    “I have to go,” she said. “I’m late for something. But I’ll come back. We’ll go out for lunch sometime.
    We need to talk.”
    “I just can’t sleep on this side of my head, is all,” he went on. He followed her into the living room. She lit a cigarette. “That’s what happened. I slept all night on this side of my head, and my ear plugged up. I think I’ll be all right as long as I don’t forget and sleep on this side of my head. If I’m careful. You know what I’m saying? If I can just sleep on my back, or else on my left side.”
    She didn’t look at him.
    “Not forever, of course not, I know that. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t do it the rest of my life. But for a while, anyway. Just my left side, or else flat on my back.”
    But even as he said this, he began to feel afraid of the night that was coming. He began to fear the moment he would begin to make his preparations for bed and what might happen afterward. That time was hours away, but already he was afraid. What if, in the middle of the night, he accidentally turned onto his right side, and the weight of his head pressing into the pillow were to seal the wax again into the dark canals of his ear? What if he woke up then, unable to hear, the ceiling inches from his head?
    “Good God,” he said. “Jesus, this is awful. Inez, I just had something like a terrible nightmare. Inez, where do you have to go?”
    “I told you,” she said, as she put everything back into her purse and made ready to leave. She looked at her watch. “I’m late for something.” She went to the door. But at the door she turned and said something else to him. He didn’t listen. He didn’t want to. He watched her lips move until she’d said what she had to say. When she’d finished, she said, “Goodbye.” Then she opened the door and closed it behind her.
    He went into the bedroom to dress. But in a minute he hurried out, wearing only his trousers, and went to the door. He opened it and stood there, listening. On the landing below, he heard Inez thank Mrs. Matthews for the oil. He heard the old woman say, “You’re welcome.” And then he heard her draw a connection between her late husband and himself. He heard her say, “Leave me your number. I’ll call if something happens. You never know.”
    “I hope you don’t have to,” Inez said. “But I’ll give it to you, anyway. Do you have something to write it down with?”
    Lloyd heard Mrs. Matthews open a drawer and rummage through it. Then her old woman’s voice said,
    “Okay.”
    Inez gave her their telephone number at home. “Thanks,” she said.
    “It was nice meeting you,” Mrs. Matthews said.
    He listened as Inez went on down the stairs and opened the front door. Then he heard it close. He waited until he heard her start their car and drive away. Then he shut the door and went back into the bedroom to finish dressing.
    After he’d put on his shoes and tied the laces, he lay down on the bed and pulled the covers up to his chin. He let his arms rest under the covers at his sides. He closed his eyes and pretended it was night and pretended he was going to fall asleep. Then he brought his arms up and crossed them over his chest to see how this position would suit him. He kept his eyes closed, trying it out. All right, he thought. Okay.
    If he didn’t want that ear to plug up again, he’d have to sleep on his back, that was all. He knew he could do it. He just couldn’t forget, even in his sleep, and turn onto the wrong side. Four or five hours’ sleep a night was all he needed, anyway. He’d manage. Worse things could happen to a man. In a way, it was a challenge. But he was up to it. He knew he was. In a minute, he threw back the covers and got up.
    He still had the better part of the day ahead of him. He