I stop by Linda’s house on the way home.
I ring the door bell.
An old man comes to the door. He stands behind the glass.
Who is it? he calls through the glass.
It’s a friend of Linda’s, I call back. Is she in?
Linda’s sick, he says.
I stand there for a while.
The old man stands there too, behind the glass.
I take a banana from my bag and post it through the letterbox. It falls onto the carpet of Linda’s house. The old man bends down and picks it up.
Goddamn you, Linda, I say very quietly.
Thank you, the old man calls through the glass at me. Thank you!
I watch the shape of the old man carrying the banana off into the darkness of Linda’s hall and the movement of his elbow as he starts to unpeel it.
When I get to the end of the drive I look back at the house.
Goddamn you, Linda.