What Is All This? by Stephen Dixon

no?”
    â€œAnd you didn’t tip him enough.”
    â€œI gave him exactly fifteen percent.”
    â€œYou didn’t. I calculated it. You gave him about thirteen percent.”
    â€œYou must be figuring thirteen percent of the total bill plus tax. I gave him fifteen percent before tax.”
    â€œOh, maybe you’re right.”
    â€œNot maybe; I am. And what do I have to do, consult you about everything at a restaurant?”
    â€œDon’t get snappy again.”
    â€œWhy not? You’re more worried about the damn waiter, nice as he is, and the restaurant’s overhead and cleaning costs, than about me or us.”
    â€œNot true, and don’t raise your voice to me.”
    â€œAh, forget it,” and I get up, get my coat off my chair and say to her “If you’re ready, I’ll walk you home or wherever you want to go.”
    â€œYou don’t have to walk me anywhere. I’d rather be alone.”
    â€œGood, then,” and I turn to go, turn to her, “Goodnight,” she looks away from me, and I leave.
    I go home. Phone’s ringing when I get there. “What is it now?” I say.
    â€œWhat is what?” Murray says.
    â€œI thought it was Vera. How are you?”
    â€œBy the tone of your voice, I’m glad I’m not Vera. What’re you doing tonight?”
    â€œNothing.”
    â€œWant to see Challenges ?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œI thought Saturday night you’d be out, but then thought maybe this Saturday, miracle of miracles, you’re not. In front of the Laron at nine?”
    â€œRight.”
    I hang up. “Right.” I grab a plant Vera gave me and yell “Right, yes, sure I want to go to a movie tonight,” and throw it against the wall. It breaks, earth and planter parts going several different ways, big stain on the wall, mess on the floor. “Sure I do, goddamn you,” and slam my fist through a closet door.
    I wash it, iodine and bandage it, dial Murray with my other hand but he doesn’t answer. I go to the Laron and see him out front.
    â€œWhat happened?” he says.
    â€œI called before but you weren’t in.”
    â€œBut what the hell happened? Your hand. It’s bleeding through the bandage.”
    â€œI suppose you already left. I called to say I couldn’t go to the movie after all.”
    â€œYou shouldn’t have come. I would’ve known something was wrong or you got a better date. But it must have just happened. You get into a fight? Catch it on a knife at home?”
    â€œI just came here to tell you, didn’t want to stand you up. I’m not feeling well. I’m going home.”
    â€œOkay, I appreciate that. But how bad’s the hand? You can’t answer a little question?”
    I shake my head and start home.
    â€œWhat’s with you? Look, I won’t go to the movie. I’ll take you to the hospital if you want.”
    I keep going.
    He says “Okay, I’ll drop it. Hell with your hand. Forget I asked.”
    I walk back. “I can’t answer because of how I’m feeling, don’t you see? I got crazy with myself over Vera and punched it through a door and mashed it, and it was so stupid to do, I’m ashamed.”
    That’s better. Buzz me if you need me,” and he goes into the theater.
    I go home. Vera is sitting on my building’s stoop.
    There you are,” she says. “I was going to wait five more minutes and then send it by mail.”
    â€œYou mean you finally have an answer for me? Hallelu.”
    â€œAnswer? To that question in the restaurant? I forgot about that. No. Your set of keys. There was no room to slip them under your door and I didn’t want to just leave them there. Here.”
    She holds my keys out. I take my bandaged hand out of my coat pocket and hold it out to her palm up. She says “What’s this, a joke? No, I don’t want to know. I know it’s bad.