A Great Performance
Many years ago, way before our falling out, my best friend faked his own death—just to spare me the work of having to kill his grandma.
A Great Performance
All the world’s a stage
–William Shakespeare
Many years ago, way before our falling out, my best friend faked his own death—just to spare me the work of having to kill his grandma. He was a good, thoughtful friend.
It was a regular Friday night, we’d been drinking in his room for some time. I had to get up early the next morning, so I left around midnight.
I shook his hand and left; made nothing else of it. I knew I’d see him tomorrow night at the bar as usual.
I went to bed thinking I wish I didn’t have to get up early the next day. I’d stupidly agreed to help my dad help my brother move out, but I wasn’t really looking forward to a full workout on a Saturday morning.
I didn’t notice when I finally dozed off until a desperate banging on my door jolted me up. I was scared, for a moment I thought the police had found me.
But when I came to, I realized someone was knocking outside and calling my name.
“Juan, Juan, Juan!” said a throaty, worn out voice.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me—Mrs Nieves.”
Mrs Nieves? I thought. What in the world for?
“¿Qué pasó?” I said.
“Please,” she moaned, “help!”
I slipped into my chanclas and walked up to the door.
There she was. A shriveled, hunched figure trembling inside a flowery, oversized nightgown; her hair all crazy.
“What is it, Mrs Nieves?” I said. “Are you OK?”
“It’s Charlie,” she said. “He’s dead.”
“What are you talking about?” I snickered.
“He’s dead, I tell ya,” she repeated, and this time I noticed the color gone from her cheeks.
“Mrs Nieves, Mrs Nieves!” I said, grabbing her by the arm, to keep her from fainting. “What’s going on? It’s three in the morning.”
“Please, come.”
We walked back to her house, as fast as she could manage. Me, all the time thinking what the hell she was going on about. I’d left Charlie not three hours ago, smiling and half-drunk, that’s it.
When I stepped into his room, Charlie lay on the floor.
His body resembled a big felled bough. Gnarly and taut, as if both a seizure and a lightning bolt had struck him dumb at the same time.
I kneeled beside him. His body was locked. Frozen rigid. His eyes bulged and his tongue drooped to the side.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Mrs Nieves asked from the door.
“I don’t know,” I said. “If he was, I think his body would be slack, not like this.”
“Great God,” she cried out, then hid her face in her hands.
“Please, Mrs Nieves, try and stay calm. We need to call an ambulance.”
She went downstairs to make the call.
I turned to look at my friend and his face suddenly softened. I stepped back.
“Is the bitch scared yet?” he said.
“Of course she is,” I said. “So am I. What the fuck?”
“That’ll show her,” he said. “After you left, she had the nerve to kick me out again. Said she’d put enough drunks in this family underground.”
“But this is nuts,” I said. “Why didn’t you just humor her?”
“Honestly,” he said, “I thought I might just give her a heart attack this way.” He paused, then added: “Or else we’re gonna have to go through with our plan.”
I was thinking about what he said when we heard the shuffle of her feet downstairs.
“You’re right,” I said. “Get in character. But this time, do as if you came back for a brief moment, then die again.”
Charlie twisted his body in an ungodly way before us. I remembered he’d always had a knack for the arts.
At last, in the middle of his enthralling performance, Mrs Nieves began gasping for air.
If the heart attack didn’t kill her, the blow to the head upon hitting the floor definitely did.
By the time we finished burying her, the sun had already come out. I told Charlie I needed to go meet my dad, but that I’d meet him tonight at the bar.
He smiled and said sure and good job.
I still miss him sometimes… I wish money never came between us.
¡Hola! Quick, before you leave: I understand not wanting to commit to a subscription, I know money’s tight for everyone. But if you can spare a tip, then I’d greatly appreciate it. Gracias.
Damn that was twisted. I guess he succeeded at not getting kicked out after all.
Good job on the tension of the story and I was hooked from the very first sentence, wanting to know more about how that unfolded.
You pulled me right into the story.
I guess the moral is, What goes around comes around.