Call If You Need Me by Raymond Carver

driving the highway near the ocean and came over a rise to see some lagoons that were closed off from the ocean by sand spits. There were some people fishing from shore, and two boats out on the water.
    I pulled the car off onto the shoulder and stopped. “Let’s see what they’re fishing for,” I said. “Maybe we could get some gear and go ourselves.”
    “We haven’t been fishing in years,” Nancy said. “Not since that time Richard was little and we went camping near Mount Shasta. Do you remember that?”
    “I remember,” I said. “I just remembered, too, that I’ve missed fishing. Let’s walk down and see what they’re fishing for.”
    “Trout,” the man said, when I asked. “Cutthroats and rainbow trout. Even some steelhead and a few salmon. They come in here in the winter when the spit opens and then when it closes in the spring, they’re trapped. This is a good time of the year for them. I haven’t caught any today, but last Sunday I caught four, about fifteen inches long. Best eating fish in the world, and they put up a hell of a fight. Fellows out in the boats have caught some today, but so far I haven’t done anything.”
    “What do you use for bait?” Nancy asked.
    “Anything,” the man said. “Worms, salmon eggs, whole-kernel corn. Just get it out there and leave it lay on the bottom. Pull out a little slack and watch your line.”
    We hung around a little longer and watched the man fish and watched the little boats
chat-chat
back and forth the length of the lagoon.
    “Thanks,” I said to the man. “Good luck to you.”
    “Good luck to you,” he said. “Good luck to the both of you.”
    We stopped at a sporting goods store on the way back to town and bought licenses, inexpensive rods and reels, nylon line,hooks, leaders, sinkers, and a creel. We made plans to go fishing the next morning.
    But that night, after we’d eaten dinner and washed the dishes and I had laid a fire in the fireplace, Nancy shook her head and said it wasn’t going to work.
    “Why do you say that?” I asked. “What is it you mean?”
    “I mean it isn’t going to work. Let’s face it.” She shook her head again. “I don’t think I want to go fishing in the morning, either, and I don’t want a dog. No, no dogs. I think I want to go up and see my mother and Richard. Alone. I want to be alone. I miss Richard,” she said and began to cry. “Richard’s my son, my baby,” she said, “and he’s nearly grown and gone. I miss him.”
    “And Del, do you miss Del Shraeder too?” I said. “Your boyfriend. Do you miss him?”
    “I miss everybody tonight,” she said. “I miss you too. I’ve missed you for a long time now. I’ve missed you so much you’ve gotten lost somehow, I can’t explain it. I’ve lost you. You’re not mine any longer.”
    “Nancy,” I said.
    “No, no,” she said. She shook her head. She sat on the sofa in front of the fire and kept shaking her head. “I want to fly up and see my mother and Richard tomorrow. After I’m gone you can call your girlfriend.”
    “I won’t do that,” I said. “I have no intention of doing that.”
    “You’ll call her,” she said.
    “You’ll call Del,” I said. I felt rubbishy for saying it.
    “You can do what you want,” she said, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “I mean that. I don’t want to sound hysterical. But I’m going up to Washington tomorrow. Right now I’m going to go to bed. I’m exhausted. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for both of us, Dan. We’re not going to make it. That fisherman today. He wished us good luck.” She shook her head. “I wish us good luck too. We’re going to need it.”
    She went into the bathroom and I heard water running in the tub. I went out and sat on the porch steps and smoked a cigarette.It was dark and quiet outside. I looked toward town and could see a faint glow of lights in the sky and patches of ocean fog drifting in the valley. I began to think of Susan. A little later, Nancy came out