Richard Ford - Rock Springs

The woman walked slowly back across her little yard to her house. At the top step she turned and looked at Starling’s house. He stared at her, and the woman went inside and closed the door.

“Eddie, take a guess who’s here,” Lois said.

“Who’s where?”

“In the bar. One wild guess.”

“Arthur Godfrey,” Starling said.

“Arthur Godfrey. That’s great,” Lois said. “No, it’s Louie. He just waltzed in the door. Isn’t that amazing?”

Louie Reiner was Lois’s previous husband. Starling and Reiner had been business acquaintances of a sort before Lois came along, and had co-brokered some office property at the tail end of the boom.

Reiner had been in real estate then, along with everybody else. Reiner and Lois had stayed married six weeks, then they had gone over to Reno and gotten an annulment. A year later, Lois married Starling. That had all been in ‘76, and Lois didn’t talk about it or about Reiner anymore. Louie had disappeared somewhere — he’d heard Europe. He didn’t feel like he had anything against Louie now, though he wasn’t particularly happy he was around.

“Just take a guess what Louie’s doing?” Lois said. Water had started to run where Lois was.

“Who knows. Washing dishes. How should I know?”

Lois repeated what Starling said and some people laughed. He heard Louie’s voice saying, “Well excuuuse me.”

“Seriously, Ed. Louie’s an extraditer.” Lois laughed. Hah.

“What’s that mean?” Starling said.

“It means he travels the breadth of the country bringing people back here so they can go to jail. He just brought a man back from Montana who’d done nothing more than pass a forty-seven-dollar bad check, which doesn’t seem worth it to me. Louie isn’t in uniform, but he’s got a gun and a little beeper.”

“What’s he doing there?” Starling said.

“His girlfriend’s coming in at the airport from Florida,” Lois said. “He’s a lot fatter than he used to be, too, though he wouldn’t like me to say that, would you, Louie?” Starling heard Reiner say “Excuuuse me” again. “Do you want to talk to him?”

“I’m busy right now.”

“Busy doing what, eating lunch? You’re not busy.”

“I’m fixing dinner,” Starling lied.

“Talk to Louie, Eddie.”

Starling wanted to hang up. He wished Reiner would go back to wherever he came from.

“Helloooo dere,” Reiner said.

“Who left your cage open, Reiner?”

“Come on down here and have a drink, Starling, and I’ll tell you all about it. I’ve seen the world since I saw you. Italy, France, the islands. You know what an Italian girl puts behind her ears to make herself more attractive?”

“I don’t want to know,” Starling said.

“That’s not what Lois says.” Reiner laughed a horse laugh.

“I’m busy. Some other time, maybe.”

“Sure you are,” Reiner said. “Listen, Eddie, get off your face and come down here. Pll tell you how we can both retire in six months. Honest to God. This is not real estate.”

“I already retired,” Starling said. “Didn’t Lois tell you?”

“Yeah, she told me a lot of things,” Reiner said.

He could hear Lois say, “Please don’t be a nerd, Eddie. Who needs nerds?” Some people laughed again.

“I shouldn’t even be talking about this on the phone. It’s that hot.” Reiner’s voice fell to a whisper. He was covering the mouthpiece of the receiver, Starling thought. “These are Italian rugs, Starling. I swear to God. From the neck of the sheep, the neck only. You only get tips on things like this in law enforcement.”

“I told you. I’m retired. I retired early,” Starling said.

“Eddie, am I going to have to come out there and arrest you?”

“Try it,” Starling said. “I’ll beat the shit out of you, then laugh about it.”

He heard Reiner put the phone down and say something he couldn’t make out. Then he heard Reiner shout, “Stay on your face then, cluck!”

Lois came on the line again. “Baby, why don’t you come down here?” A blender started in the background, and a big cheer went up. “We’re all adults. Have a Tanqueray on Louie. He’s on all-expenses. There might be something to this. Louie’s always got ideas.”

“Reiner’s just got ideas about you. Not me.” He heard Reiner say to Lois to tell him — Starling — to forget it. “Tell Reiner to piss up a rope.”

“Try to be nice,” Lois said. “Louie’s being nice. Eddie—”

Starling hung up.

When he worked, Starling had sold business properties — commercial lots and office buildings. He had studied that in college, and when he got out he was offered a good job. People would always need a place to go to work, was his thinking. He liked the professional environment, the atmosphere of money being made, and for a while he had done very well. He and Lois had rented a nice, sunny apartment in an older part of town by a park. They bought furniture and didn’t save money. While Starling worked, Lois kept house, took care of plants and fish and attended a night class for her degree in history. They had no children, and didn’t expect any. They liked the size of the town and the stores, knew shopkeepers’ names and where the streets led. It was a life they could like, and better than they both could’ve guessed would come their way.

Then interest rates had gone sky-high, and suddenly no one wanted commercial property. Everything was rent. Starling rented space in malls and in professional buildings and in empty shops downtown where older businesses had moved out and leather stores, health-food and copy shops moved in. It was a holding action, Starling thought, until people wanted to spend again.

Then he had lost his job. One morning, his boss at the agency asked him back to his private office along with a fat woman named Beverley who’d been there longer than Starling had. His boss told them he was closing down and wanted to tell them first because they’d been there the longest, and he wanted them to have a chance for the other jobs. Starling remembered feeling dazed when he heard the bad news, but he remembered thanking the boss, wishing him good luck, then comforting Beverley, who went to pieces in the outer office. He had gone home and told Lois, and they had gone out to dinner at a Greek restaurant that night, and gotten good and drunk.

As it turned out, though, there weren’t any other jobs to get. He visited the other agencies and talked to salesmen he knew, but all of his friends were terrified of being laid off themselves and wouldn’t say much. After a month, he heard that his boss hadn’t closed the agency down, but had simply hired two new people to take his and Beverley’s places. When he called to ask about it the boss apologized, then claimed to have an important call on another line.

In six weeks Starling had still not found a job, and when the money ran out and they couldn’t pay the rent, he and Lois sublet the apartment to two nurses who worked at a hospital, and got out. Lois found an ad in the Pennysaver that said, “No Rent for Responsible Couple — House Sit Opportunity.” And they moved in that day.

The house was a ranchette in a tract of small, insignificant houses on fenced-in postage-stamp lots down on the plain of the Sacramento River, out from town. The owner was an Air Force sergeant who had been stationed in Japan, and the house was decorated with Oriental tastes: wind chimes and fat, naked women stitched over silk, a red enamel couch in the living room, rice-paper lanterns on the patio. There was an old pony in the back, from when the owner had been married with kids, and a couple of wrecked cars in the carport. All the people who lived on the street, Starling noticed, were younger than the two of them. More than a few were in the Air Force and fought loud, regular arguments, and came and went at all hours. There was always a door slamming after midnight, then a car starting up and racing away into the night. Starling had never thought he’d find himself living in such a place.