I vacuumed, bought food, did the dishes, purchased a bilevel shag-carpet kitty facility for Skip. It cost seventy dollars. At first he refused to acknowledge it, but as the day went on I saw him jumping up to the carpeted box on top, pretending it was a cave, and chewing on the fresh, new-smelling carpet. I napped, cleaned my pores, called my girlfriend, and rolled a bone. I played an old jazz record my dad had given me and watched a movie on Cinemax. For the first time in a year I went to bed before midnight.

Sunday morning I looked in the phone book and found out where John lived. I put on a decent shirt and pants, shaved, and started over on foot, since it was only about half a mile away. I had on a new pair of loafers that were shiny and uncreased and cut into my heels when I stepped. I went into a 7-Eleven and got the Sunday paper and a thing of flowers. In front of his house I paused to check myself in a car window. I looked fat and pale but well rested, and honest. I walked up the steps to the back door. It was not yet 10 A.M., and knowing he might be asleep I sat down to write a quick note of apology.

I heard somebody going around the kitchen, the refrigerator door slamming, and water running. When I looked in the window I saw a man standing behind the table looking at me. It was John, trying to figure out who I was. He opened the door and said something I couldn’t make out and stood there watching me. I said, “I turned over a new leaf after Friday night and I’m apologizing to everybody I offended lately.”

He held the door open, leaning halfway out. His light-brown skin showed against a white V-neck T-shirt. The door spring creaked. It sounded like a bird with a long neck—maybe a goose—being strangled. I stepped back, attempting to get a better stance, and placed my new loafer in the dog’s water dish. It was a sign from God of something rotten.

Nobody deserves anything. But if there’s such a thing as retribution, at that moment I was living it, paying myself back in the form of humiliation. No one, no one I’ve ever known, would’ve believed that act, me standing at John’s door with the bouquet of flowers, hoping he’ll take them. Drum roll, then Sam the cat he takes two dainty steps and nose-dives off something very high.