One day my friend came and knocked on my door.
Is there something in my back? he said.
I don’t know, I said, turn around. And he did.
Well, there’s a knife sticking out of it, I said.
A knife? he said.
He seemed a bit surprised.
How’d that get in there? he said.
I don’t know, I said. But it must hurt a lot.
Well yeah, he said. A little bit.
The two of us stood there in the hall for a while.
You want me to take it out? I said.
I don’t know, he said. Do you think we should?
I don’t know, I’m not a doctor, I said.
So, in the end, we left the knife in.
Doesn’t hurt all that much, he said.
I asked if he wanted to come in for a beer.
No thanks, he said. I should probably go.
After that, I didn’t see my friend for some time. I kept wondering if he was all right. I called him on the phone a couple of times, but for some reason, he didn’t call back.
So finally, I went over and knocked on his door. I heard a noise. Then his wife opened up.
Yes? she said.
I asked if he was there.
I don’t know, let me see, she said.
She closed the door and—I guess—went away. I stood there for a very long time. Then, finally, the door opened again.
He must’ve gone out, she said.
Oh, I said. Could I leave a message?
I guess, if you want, she said.
Actually, I said, if you could just have him call me.
I’ll tell him you were here, she said.
She closed the door and I walked down the street. But after a while, I doubled back. I got pretty close and then ducked behind a tree.
Not long after, the door opened up.
The door opened up and my friend came out. He was all dressed up in a suit.
Hey, I said.
Oh, he said.
He looked around.
Hey, he said. It’s you.
Yeah, I said. What happened to the knife?
The knife? my friend said. Oh, the knife.
He shrugged a little bit, like it was no big deal.
They took it out at the hospital, he said.
The hospital? I said. Did they find out where it came from?
No, he said. I don’t think so.
You don’t seem very concerned, I said.
Sorry, he said, I gotta go. I have an important business meeting downtown.
I’ll call you later, he said. It’s good to see you.
I stood there and watched as my friend walked away. He never even once looked back. And there was something about him, about his whole air—the way he stood, the way he looked, the way he walked.
So when he was gone, I went up to his door.
His wife didn’t answer when I knocked. I walked around the house and peered in the windows.
That’s when I saw the knife.
It was lying on the table, right there in the dining room—my friend’s blood still wet on the blade.
Is that really what I think it is? I said.
None of it made any sense.
So I lifted up the window, and climbed on in, and I reached out and picked up the knife.
And then, suddenly, his wife was in the room.
And she was screaming—her mouth huge and wide.
The rest was a blur. The police took me away. My friend’s blood was all over the place.
But he’s fine! I kept saying. He just went to a business meeting!
He’ll be back any minute! I kept saying.
But he didn’t come back—he was nowhere to be found! So, of course, I ended up in jail. I screamed and I hollered, but nobody came.
My meals came through a flap in the door.
I was there for I don’t even know how long. I can’t even remember what it was like. I just sat there forever and stared into space.
I didn’t do anything wrong! I kept saying.
And then, in the end, of course, came the knife. It slid under the flap, like the food. I held it in my hand and stared at the blade.
Then I propped it up against the wall.
I positioned the tip right against my spine, and then I took a very deep breath. And then, resolutely, with all of my strength, I slammed my entire body back.
I lay in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. Somehow, my friend’s wife was beside me.
You did it! she said. I’m so proud of you!
Thanks, I said, and passed out.
When I woke, I was lying in the foyer of my house. The doorbell was ringing and ringing.
Coming, I said.
I slowly stood up.
I turned the doorknob.
My friend was outside.
Hey, my friend said.
He looked a little nervous.
Mind if I come in? he said.
No, I said. Is everything OK?
Yeah, why wouldn’t it be? he said.
So my friend came in, and I got us some beers.
My wife said you came by, he said.
She did? I said.
She did, he said.
Oh yeah, I said. The other day.
We sat in the den and watched some TV.
Well, I should probably go, he finally said.
OK, I said. Well, it was good to see you.
Absolutely, you too, he said.
My friend went home and I puttered about—did the dishes and swept the kitchen floor. I cleaned off the counters and took out the trash, and then I went up to bed.
But in the night that night, I woke up in a cold sweat. I stood and stripped the sheets from the bed. I balled them up and dragged them downstairs to the basement and washed them in the tub.
The thing about friends, I thought to myself, is that it’s hard to know when to let go.
And I hung up the sheets and turned out the lights, as the water dripped red to the floor.
