Page 3 of Wrong Number, Right Lion

At least the whole thing wasn’t broken, and the freezer food was fine. Once it was cleaned out, I made sure the door was shut properly, grabbed my keys, and took my trash to the bin outside before heading to the grocery store—which was surprisingly empty.

I didn’t have time to restock the fridge fully. I mean, I had the time, but I didn’t have the energy. So I grabbed a steak and some things to make sides, and planned to check out when I saw a magazine advertising a new movie I’d been wanting to see. It was only in theaters, but reminded me that I planned to be a slug all vacation, and coming back here in the morning was the antithesis of that goal.

Over an hour and far too many dollars later, I was pulling up to my place with a trunk full of groceries. My lion was not impressed, but he was going to need to chill. Soon enough, he’d get his steak. Fingers crossed it would cut his craving for the run.

My plan for the night was to fill my belly and have a movie marathon. Or maybe a TV show marathon. I hadn’t decided. It didn’t matter which. When the TV was going on, my brain was off. And I was going to leave it that way until I had to go back to work.

I reached to grab my phone—only to notice I had left it inside. I hoped. If I left it at the store I was going to need to go out again. Ugh.

Somehow I carried the groceries in with only one trip. I started the steak in a frying pan, not wanting to deal with the grill after what I was sure was going to be a disaster out back, and while it was doing its thing, I put the groceries away. It already smelled absolutely delicious. I probably should’ve gotten two.

Groceries away and steak flipped, I went to find my phone, which I found sitting on my bed. It was low on charge, but at least it wasn’t still at the store. So there was that. As I went to put it on the charger, I noticed a new voicemail notification.

“That’s weird. No one leaves messages anymore.” At least no one I communicated with. My coworkers were big into emails, and my friends and family were texting-only peeps.

It wasn’t a number I recognized. I assumed it was some sort of tele-marketer or phishing scam, but it was local. Just in case, I listened to it. The first time, I couldn’t believe my ears. Some guy needed help. A tree had fallen on his house, and it was raining inside.

That wasn’t unusual. I was sure many people in town had a similar situation happening. It was my lion’s reaction that surprised me. He was front and center, all of his attention on the man on the phone.

I listened to it again, and my heart hurt. He was overwhelmed, to say the least. And what was worse? He called me instead of whatever contractor he thought he had the number for.

And here I was, being salty about a department meeting that went long, while this poor guy had his entire house severely damaged by the same storm that had kept me at work.

I looked at the time and decided it was too late to call tonight. Normally I didn’t even bother with wrong numbers, assuming they would figure it out soon enough. With this guy? I felt the need to at least call him.

“In the morning, I’ll call you back.” But even as I said it, I felt yucky about it. But the reality was, I was a math professor, not a contractor. What good could I do?

My lion disagreed with me on every level and pushed on me hard. Pushing so hard that it got real close to the point where I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep him back if I kept ignoring it.

What is your problem?

Help.

No. I don’t know how to help him.

Just calling him will help him.He pushed again, and this time, my hands started to morph into my paws.

“Fuck.”

Fine. I’ll go and help him. But you better behave, because I can’t have you pushing like this.

I’d never in my life worried that I wouldn’t be able to control my beast—until right now.

Now, I wasn’t so sure.

3

ARLO

What was the guy’s name?

On the piece of paper my cousin had given me, I’d listed him as “Handyman.” What was I thinking? Either I hadn’t remembered the name or my cousin hadn’t mentioned it. Maybe he didn’t know his name either, which was silly.

Hmmm, I wondered how far we’d get without me mentioning his name? It’d be easy, I figured. No one conducted a conversation with me and added “Arlo” at the beginning and end of each sentence. I could do this.

I slogged through the mud. Ewww. There was a smell after teeming rain, even if technically there hadn’t been flooding. A deep dirty stink that smelled of churned-up earth and whatever had been caught up with the swirling water. I hated to think what I’d discover when the ground dried up.

“Hi.” I held out my hand. “Arlo, I’m Stephen’s cousin.”

---