Page 50 of His Hungry Wolf

All night, I kept thinking about what would happen if things didn’t go well today. I had just gotten Claude back. I wasn’t ready to lose him again. Everything had to go perfectly. I couldn’t be sure what I would do if they didn’t.

Dragging myself out of bed, I met Claude in the living room. He was sitting on the couch dressed with his folded sheets and pillow next to him.

“Sleep well?” I asked, sounding like I had swallowed a frog.

“I got a few hours,” he replied, not looking rested.

“Was the couch not comfortable?” I asked in a panic.

“No, it was fine,” he reassured me. Then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and said, “Thoughts.”

I wasn’t sure why, but him saying that made me feel a little better.

“I get it. How do you feel? You feel ready?”

His head barely moved as he nodded. He wasn’t going to let me in. Even now, as I felt like I would explode, he was a locked box of emotions. Nothing got out.

Or, maybe I was putting more weight on this than it deserved. Maybe he truly didn’t give a shit whether things went well at the workout. Maybe he had seen enough of me and my child-like life to know that he wanted no part of it or football.

“Can you eat breakfast?” I asked, knowing I wouldn’t keep anything down if I tried.

“Something light. And maybe some coffee. I usually run in the mornings. How about I do a mile or two and stop somewhere on the way? It will help clear my head.”

“I can go with you,” I offered, knowing I would collapse after a block but wanting to be with him.

“No, I need to get my mind right for the workout. How long will it take to drive where we’re going?”

“Twenty minutes?”

“Then I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Right,” I said, watching him go.

More time to think was the last thing I needed. So instead, I made a list of all of the things Papa and the general manager would be looking for from Claude. It was an exhaustive list. Or, more precisely, I was exhausted, and the words I wrote created a list.

Who was I kidding? This wasn’t going to distract me from anything. So instead, I sat on the couch, turned on the PlayStation, and fell asleep. I knew why I had. The couch smelled like Claude. It was like his arms were wrapped around me.

“Merri,” Claude said, waking me up. “Shouldn’t we head out?”

I looked at the clock above the TV. “We have forty minutes,” I said groggily.

“Being on time is late,” he reminded me.

Staring up at him, I liked the way he looked. I mean, I always liked the way he looked. What I meant this time was that he looked ready.

“Yeah, we should go.”

Getting dressed and driving over, I was still too tired to be stressed. But entering the stadium, it hit me. This was going to be it. In a few hours, the rest of my life would be set. Either I was going to be unemployed and Claude would again be gone from my life. Or, I would have everything I ever wanted. My chest tightened at the prospect.

“Claude!” Papa said, shaking his hand with a smile. “Do you feel ready for this?”

Claude gave Papa a million-dollar smile. “As I’ll ever be.”

“Good. I expect great things from you,” Papa said, having never said that to me.

“I’ll do my best.”

“That should be enough.”

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