He Said He Would Remember It Forever. Then He Changed His Number.

Frank waited outside the police station for Danny. The IOU was in his hand, edges soft with sweat. Danny came out, looked at him once, lit a cigarette. Frank held out the paper. Danny said, “Keep it. A souvenir.” Ash landed on the steps. Frank folded the IOU into quarters and slid it into his wallet. Next door, a coffee machine hummed. He bought a black coffee, no sugar, and burned his tongue on the first sip.

Three years earlier, Danny arrived from another state. His duffel bag had a broken zipper, tied shut with rope. Frank met him at the bus station and took him to a diner. Danny slid the better half of his burger onto Frank’s plate. Frank said, “You eat it.” Danny said, “When I make it, I’ll buy you a steak.” Frank laughed and slid it back. Onions sat on the plate. Frank pushed them aside.

Danny needed work. Frank called in a favor. Danny needed an apartment. Frank covered the deposit. “I’ll remember this the rest of my life,” Danny said. Frank waved a hand. “Eat first.” Dinner took two hours. Danny talked about home. Frank listened and checked his phone. His wife had texted: What time? He wrote back: Late.

Then Danny needed money. Three thousand. Frank went to an ATM. The machine spat out bills. He counted them twice. Danny took the cash, fingers shaking. Frank said, “Write an IOU.” Danny paused. “You don’t trust me?” Frank said, “Write one. So we don’t forget.” Danny wrote it. The letters came out crooked. Frank slid the paper into an electrician’s manual with oil stains on the cover.

After the loan, Danny got promoted. Frank stayed where he was. At an office happy hour, Danny laughed with other people. Frank walked over. Danny’s smile closed halfway. “How’s it going?” Frank asked. “Same,” Danny said. Frank mentioned, “No rush on the money.” “I know,” Danny said, and turned to get a drink. Frank stood there. The plastic cup in his hand crushed inward. Soda spilled onto his shoe. He wiped it with a napkin and threw the napkin away. Beside the trash sat a potted plant. One leaf had gone yellow. He found a cup, filled it with water, and poured.

Two months later, Frank heard something from someone else. Danny had said, “Frank keeps score over every little favor. Who can stand that?” Frank didn’t confront him. He went home and took out the tea Danny had given him. Expired. He threw it in the trash. The trash was full. He carried the bag downstairs. A neighbor was walking a dog. The dog barked twice. Frank stood still until it moved on, then dropped the bag in the bin.

His wife asked, “Did Danny pay you back?” “Soon,” Frank said. She didn’t ask again. She opened the fridge and took out half a cabbage. Black spots on the leaves. She cut them out and sliced the rest. Oil hissed when the cabbage went in. Frank sat on the couch and turned on the TV. The news was doing the weather. He changed the channel. Changed it again. Turned it off.

His sister had done the same thing to their mother. Their mother called every Sunday. The daughter said she was busy. The mother made chicken soup. The daughter said next time. The mother said, “I made it for you. I didn’t have any.” The daughter was quiet. “Mom, I’m full.” The mother said, “You used to eat two bowls.” “That was then.” The daughter put down the bowl and went to the balcony for clothes. The mother poured the rest of the soup into a container and put it in the fridge. The next day, she took it out again. The daughter bought a ticket out of state. At the station, the mother said, “Call when you get there.” The daughter said, “Yeah.” The train left. The mother was still standing there. The daughter put in her earbuds. She didn’t cry. She opened her phone and deleted the missed calls. Then she ordered soup from a delivery app. It arrived. She drank two sips. The plastic spoon broke. She used another.

Another year passed. Danny changed his phone number. Frank called. Disconnected. He took the IOU out of the electrician’s manual and looked at it. Then he put it back. Dust lay on the shelf. He wiped it, stopped halfway. The rag hung on the shelf. Water dripped onto the floor. He mopped it. Then he put the mop back on the balcony. A half bag of flour sat there, open. He knelt, rolled the top twice, and clipped it shut.

Frank later lent money to someone else. Five hundred. He wrote an IOU and set a date. The man paid on time. “No interest,” Frank said. “No way,” the man said. They went to eat and split the bill. Frank went home, tore up the IOU, and threw the pieces in the toilet. The water turned. The paper sank. He flushed. The tank was loud. He waited until it went quiet, then left.

At a bar, Frank saw a man complain about his former boss for half an hour. Wages, bonuses, the office air conditioning. Frank put down his glass. “You know what I mean?” the man said. “I have to go,” Frank said. “One more.” “Next time.” Outside, the air was cold. He zipped his jacket to the top. The zipper caught. He looked down and fixed it. A street vendor was selling roasted chestnuts. He bought a bag. They were hot. He shifted them from left hand to right. By the time he got home, half were cold. He peeled one and ate it. The rest sat on the table. The next day they were hard. He threw them away.

Frank changed Danny’s contact name from “Danny bro” to “Danny.” Then to “Danny (do not lend).” Then he deleted it. One empty slot on the screen. He ordered delivery. The driver called and said he’d leave it at the door. Frank opened the door and brought it in. One fork fell. He picked it up and threw it away. He used the other. After eating, he stacked the containers by the door. On his way out, he took them down. The trash lid wasn’t closed. He stepped on it. It closed.

Frank saw Danny at a farmers market. Danny was picking tomatoes. A plastic bag hung from his hand. Frank pushed his bike. A bunch of scallions lay in the basket. Danny looked up and saw him. They stood on opposite sides of the tomatoes. Danny opened his mouth. Frank nodded once. He pushed the bike away. The chain clicked. At home, he put the scallions on the kitchen windowsill. A half bottle of antacids sat there. He opened it, shook out two, and swallowed them. Then he took leftover rice from the fridge. He cracked two eggs. The oil was hot. The eggs hissed. He turned them, plated them. He sat at the table and took one bite. The TV was off. Outside, someone shouted about recycling. He put down his fork, went to the balcony, and bundled old newspapers. Halfway through, he stopped. He untied the string and tied it again.

When he finished, he put the newspapers by the door. Back at the table, the food was cold. He ate two more bites. Then he put the bowl in the sink. The faucet ran. He rinsed the bowl. The dish soap was empty. He used hot water. The bowl went on the rack. Water dripped from its rim. He wiped the counter. At the windowsill, he saw the antacids. He picked them up and checked the date. Not expired. He put them back. The recycling sound faded. He sat down and took out his phone. The screen lit. He opened contacts and went to Danny’s page. Deleted. He locked the screen. It went black. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV. A commercial. He changed the channel. Changed it again. Stopped on the weather. The host said rain tomorrow. He got up, went to the balcony, and closed the window. A crack ran along the frame. He pressed it with his finger. It didn’t move. He pulled his hand back. Dust on his finger. He wiped it on his pants.