Friends by Stephen Dixon Read Free Book Online

remember, then, before you went to bed, Gabe staying up late to read my novel, and maybe in the morning—”
    â€œI don’t remember any of that. I do remember having dinner with you and I think her name was Lucille—”
    â€œLouise.”
    â€œLouise, Lucille—I was close. And that we took the subway home. I don’t know why I remember the subway. Maybe because it was very cold—”
    â€œIt was in the middle of winter.”
    â€œThen it had to be cold and I probably hated the long wait in the subway station and wanted to take a cab. But that’sall I remember of that night— all . So now, after so many years, it seems silly for you to call me and worry about such a matter.”
    â€œI don’t know. I’m sorry if I might have disturbed you with my call, but the matter seems important to me.”
    â€œBelieve me it’s silly. Because when you get right down to things, what’s the difference about your old manuscript? From the way I knew Gabe then, and from what you and others have said about his condition since, he’s much worse off than any of us now, published book or not. So forget whatever he might have done to you and just be thankful you have your health and also the time to write more.”
    â€œMaybe you’re right. Take care, Pearl, and goodnight.”
    â€œNo, be honest—I want you to answer me direct: am I right or not?”
    â€œYou are.”
    â€œGood. Speak to you soon.”

Magna as the Good Woman
    Key’s still in the lock, my hand still on the key when I’m grabbed from behind, his hand over my mouth same time he turns the doorknob, and pulls the key out, pushes me into the apartment and kicks the door shut.
    â€œDon’t scream or I’ll kill you,” he says.
    Light’s out. Normally I open the door, stick my hand past the jamb and turn the light on, first thing when I get home from school. So the room’s dark, both his arms around me now, hand still over my mouth, my lips hurting from the pressure of his grip, shoulder bag he took from me and now holds, his mouth even closer to my ear.
    â€œI mean it. Don’t say a word. Do or try to get away from me or anything I don’t want you to and I’ll kill you. I’ve killed others. Women and men, I can kill you.”
    I shake my head. My hair brushes his face.
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?”
    He takes his hand away from my mouth a little. He could clap it back on in a second if I screamed. I’m not going to. I believe what he says. The way he grabbed and now holds me and way he speaks.
    â€œI’ll do what you say.”
    â€œThat’s a good woman. Now where’s the rest of your money? Lead me to it.”
    He puts his hand back on my mouth and I start walking to the bedroom closet. I don’t want to go to the bedroom withhim but that’s where the money is. If I said I didn’t have any money he’d probably say I was lying. Everyone has some money at home. A ten, a five, and all of mine except for what’s in the shoulder bag is in the closet in a box. Better to give it and maybe he’ll get right out. So I start for the closet with him holding me from behind, arm around my chest, other hand on my mouth, my shoulder bag he’s holding bouncing against my side.
    â€œDon’t turn the light on till I tell you,” he says.
    We’re in the bedroom. He walks me to the window and pulls down the shade. Walks me to the light switch and says “Turn it on,” and I turn on the light. Dumps what’s in my shoulder bag onto the floor, takes the money from it and puts it in his pocket and kicks the bag and the books that came out of it across the room. “Now the rest of your money.”
    We go to the closet. He pulls the string and the closet light goes on. “I’m letting you go now only to get the money. Yell once and you are dead, dead,” and he takes his