Late in the evening, Ben said, when they were settled against each other, listening to the owls outside, “Thank God you came to the dorm that night.”

“When it rained?”

“Yeah.” Breathing out a puff of air, a sigh, a sound that was a touch of music.

“You think you would ever have called me?”

“Yeah. When the season was done. I couldn’t mix you and football, babe. I just couldn’t do it. You believe me?”

“I think so.”

“Nina would have made me call you sooner or later.” Again, that small breath. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

That was enough. Ronny had been quick to forget it all, maybe too quick, but this was as much explanation as he needed, and it came without his asking. After all they had been through with Miss Dee, it mattered less anyway.

Once the phone was installed, Ronny called his mother. Two hours earlier in Nevada. Her voice was one long rasp. She said, “Oh, hey, honey, it’s so good to hear from you. I been thinking about you. You know how I am. I told Rayford this morning you would probably call.”

It was a comfort to hear her voice. She sounded strong. It made a difference. He understood how lucky he was. So many small thoughts sparking one another, while Mom prattled on and on, about shopping for a house in Reno, and Ray’s sports store, you know, where they sell sports stuff, a lot of camping and fishing in Nevada, you would be surprised, it’s all rednecks wall to wall. He never told her about Miss Dee. It wouldn’t have made sense to her. She wasn’t a mom for understanding. She told him about her backyard, where she was planting deserty stuff, she said. Succulents. “You know how I love to grow them. Don’t need too much trouble, just a little water now and then. Like you,” she said, and laughed. “Oh, come on, you laugh, too. It’s funny.”

“Haha.”

“There you go, that didn’t kill you.”

“You sound happy, Ma.”

She sighed. He could hear the striking of a match, another cigarette. “I am. Don’t you worry about me.”

“I’m sorry I can’t get there Christmas.”

“That’s fine. We don’t hardly have anywhere for you to sleep till we get a bigger place. Which we will by next year. Okay?”

They hung up and he stood there listening to sounds in the bedroom, the one they shared, he and Ben; Ben shuffled out and watched him and asked, and Ronny answered, he had called his mom, she was fine, everything was all right, and they stood together in the ruby and gold shadings of the Christmas lights.

You had to have this to live, everyone said so. It struck him fearful to need anything. But he might as well take a chance on something he wanted. Anyway, the choice was already made, here he was, alone in Ben’s trailer, the two of them to live together for their last semester of college. The only way to endure the feeling was to understand its fragile nature. He stayed in the house alone while Ben went off to play in the Liberty Bowl, his last football game. Ronny kept himself sane the same as always, books and his typewriter, stocking the kitchen, working at the newspaper, cleaning the trailer top to bottom. Driving to town a couple of times in the decrepit car he had bought. Dinner with Lily. The last day of solitude he walked up the gravel road to see where the barking dogs lived, then walked back to his island. The next day Ben came home.