Page 42 of His Hungry Wolf

“That’s what I said.”

“What color’s the door?”

“What?” I said, sitting up.

“You heard me. If you’re walking out the door now, tell me the color of the door.”

“What are you, testing me?” I said, scrambling to my feet and finding my pants.

“You stalling me?”

Dressing, I said, “No, I’m just deeply offended that you would doubt me like that.”

“I’m still not hearing the color,” Claude pointed out.

“That’s because I’m processing what it says that you think so little of me that you would ask that question,” I said, hurrying from my room to the stairs.

“You’re still not saying.”

“That’s because… brown,” I blurted out as soon as it was in sight. “And it has a teardrop-shaped stained glass in the center of it.”

I sat on the stairs silently catching my breath.

“Okay. Tell Cali I said hi.”

“What?”

I looked down the stairs toward the kitchen and spotted Cali texting on his phone. He looked up at me.

“Claude says hello,” I told him.

“Thanks.”

“Is that who you’re texting with?” I asked Cali.

“Have been all morning,” Cali pointed out. “Breakfast?” He asked, returning to the kitchen.

“I was awake,” I told Claude.

“Yes. You were the one who called me. I was very impressed. There was a time when you struggled to get up by 11.”

“Well, I have a job now,” I clarified.

“You had a job then.”

“Coach understood. He was fine with it.”

“Was he?”

Claude was right. My father never was.

“Just be on time, okay,” I told him.

“If you’re on time, you’re late,” he told me, having successfully frustrated my morning.

“Bye, Claude.”

Ending the call, I continued to sit on the stairs. I couldn’t help but smile. It felt like old times. I had missed this so much. How would it feel when we both returned to our lives?