The Friendship Ledger

Immediately afterward, there came the sound of things being smashed outside, along with Dylan's muttered curses.

"What kind of person is he? He was the one trying to take advantage of me, and he left me alone outside the supermarket.

"How is he the one getting mad?"

Kelsey comforted him. "Honey, calm down. Do not stoop to his level.

"We are living under someone else's roof. Just endure it."

Dylan's voice rose.

"Do not make it sound like he has never lived under someone else's roof. Right after college, he stayed at my place for a month.

"I never once gave him attitude."

That was true. He never gave me attitude. But on the very first night I moved in, I gave him three thousand dollars.

It was an old, run-down apartment complex, and the unit was less than three hundred square feet. Three thousand was more than enough.

Besides, I did all the chores and bought all the household supplies.

Once I found a job, I immediately moved closer to my company.

As for him, he had stayed at my place for three months without paying a cent, without sharing a single chore, without buying even one household item.

Even the condoms he and Kelsey used every few days were bought by me.

At seven the next morning, I got up to wash. Beside the toilet was a disgusting mess of red and yellow filth. One look told me it was a mixture of Kelsey's period blood and Dylan's feces.

I had told them countless times to flush after using the bathroom. Countless times.

But they kept forgetting.

Especially today. There was so much of it, it looked deliberate.

A moment later, Dylan walked in with bed hair. He grabbed his toothbrush and started brushing as if nothing was wrong.

As for that ring of filth, he acted blind.

"Flush the toilet clean," I said. "I do not want to come home from work and see it like this."

Dylan rolled his eyes and said nothing.

Then, right in front of me, he pulled down his pants and urinated into the toilet.

"I can use it. Why can you not?

"If you love cleanliness so much, then flush it yourself. Scrub it yourself.

"What gives you the right to order me around?"

His voice was cold, stabbing into me like an awl.

"Because this is my place."

Dylan froze for a moment. Then his arrogance surged right back.

"So what if it is your place? Aren't good friends supposed to help each other?

"I am only staying here for a few days because I am down on my luck. It is not like I am living here forever."

He pulled his pants up, stepped forward, and jabbed a finger into my chest again and again.

"Max Cairncross, do not forget. In ninth grade, when you had a severe fever and passed out on the track, I carried you to the nurse.

"Sophomore year, when two punks stopped you after school, I stepped in and saved you. Three of my fingers were almost broken that day.

"Junior year of college, when that homewrecker confronted you in person, I fought her for you. I was written up by the school because of it.

"And now?"

Dylan gritted his teeth and stared straight into my eyes.

"Just because I have stayed at your place for a few days, you are losing your temper at me like this.

"Max Cairncross, after everything I have done for you, can you honestly say you are not ashamed?"

Dylan was right. He had done a lot for me. Otherwise, we would never have become best friends for nearly twenty years.

But friendship was mutual.

I pushed his hand away and met his gaze, word by word.

"You are right. You were good to me. But I was not bad to you either.

"When debt collectors beat you up, I shielded you and took every punch and every blow from their clubs.

"I spent half a month in the hospital that time."

I stepped forward, closing in on Dylan.

"And when you were in a car accident, I quit my job and stayed awake day and night caring for you for a month.

"When you lost your job and had no money to go home for Christmas, I gave you five thousand dollars without a second thought.

"After you got married, I lent you money 220 times."

I tapped Dylan's chest with my hand. My voice was hoarse.

"Your sacrifices count, but mine do not?"

Dylan swallowed and pressed his lips together.

After a long while, he said lightly, "Why count so carefully between best friends?"

I had nothing to say.

He was the one who started counting. But when he realized I had given more than he had, and he could no longer use our old friendship to guilt me, he did not like it anymore.