Over and over I asked Cal if he was all right, begging him to let me see his eye, but he just kept making that noise. When he finally straightened up, I realized it wasn’t because I’d blinded him, it was because he was laughing so hard he couldn’t form words.

Once he composed himself, he ran to the nearest bathroom and examined his wound in the mirror. I’d missed his eye by a hair, and the hook had carved a tiny but deep gash into the skin right below his lower lid that you can still see today if you look close enough.

“Nice job,” he said. “That’s definitely going to leave a scar.”

We retold the story to each other from our individual points of view a dozen times over the next few hours, and Cal’s version got gorier and gorier as the night went on. Right before we fell asleep, he asked me what had been going through my mind when I thought I’d taken out his eye, and I told him all I could think was that if I’d blinded him, he wasn’t going to hang out with me anymore.

It was dark and quiet, Cal in the twin bed next to mine, a small bedside table between us, but I knew he was shaking his head because I could hear the sound of his hair pulling and swishing against the crisp pillowcase.

“Harp, we signed a contract, remember? It says we’re best friends, and best friendship is bound by commitment, code, and honor. There’s nothing you could do to make me not hang out with you anymore.”

“Nothing?” I said in disbelief. “Come on, there has to be something.”

He thought about it and said, “I guess if you stole my girlfriend. I mean, if I had a girlfriend, and you stole her, then I might hate you.”

“Well, that’s fine, because I would never do that.”

“Obviously,” he said.

“Obviously.”

October was still waiting for me to make the call.

“Here’s what I think,” I said. “Now is not the right time to tell him.”

“Joe—”

“No, just hear me out, OK? He’s gone for what? Another month? He tells me every few days how much he’s looking forward to the show at the Greek. It’s a big deal for him to play it, and it’s a big deal for him to share it with me. And, to be honest, it’s a big deal for me to share it with him. For once, I’d like to not let him down.”

October rested her head on my shoulder and sighed.

“And what difference does it make if we tell him now or when he’s back?” I asked. “It’s the same information, and it’s not going to go over well, no matter what. If we wait, we can do it in person. And we won’t ruin his big homecoming. I feel like I owe him that.”

I meant every word I said to October that night. As difficult as I knew it was going to be, I had no intention of bailing on her when the time came to confess to Cal. But the situation was a lot like vowing to go to Brooklyn back when I was a kid. As an idea, it seemed utterly possible. But ideas live in very specific futures, and not all futures arrive.