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“I don’t share my egg rolls,” I blurted out. “I got a lot of them, so I’ll have them for leftovers for the next couple of days, and if you eat them all, I won’t have any leftovers.” Yeah, that was what I was concerned about, egg rolls.
“That all you got in here?” he asked. “I’m not a fan of egg rolls, sweets.”
“Uh, well,” I mumbled. “There’s more than just the dozen egg rolls in there.” I couldn’t remember what else, but I knew there were more than egg rolls. I wrapped my arms around myself and shivered slightly.
“Sweets, let me in the damn door so you’re not out here freezing.”
“Do you work for China House?” I asked, completely ignoring him. It was chilly out, but I didn’t even notice it with Claus on my front porch.
Claus shook his head and laughed. “Not at all.”
“Then why do you have the food I ordered?” I couldn’t wrap my head around what the heck was going on.
“I rolled up when the delivery guy did. I paid him, and here I am,” he explained as if I should have known why he was standing on my porch. “Let me in.”
“But why did you roll up?” I shook my head. That sounded as bad as when Jane said, ‘turn up.’ “Why did you come here?”
He shrugged. “Thought you could use some company, Stevie. Now, you gonna let me in, or you wanna eat on your porch?”
I hesitated for a second but then stepped to the side. “Just put it on the kitchen table.”
He walked into my house as if he lived there and headed to the kitchen. “Plates?” he called. “Beer?”
I closed the door and leaned against it. Plates and beer? I had both, but why did he care if I did? “Uh, plates are in the cabinet to the right of the sink, and there should be some beer in the fridge from Paul.”
I watched Claus move around my kitchen and open the fridge. “Pussy Paul’s beer?” he asked. He grabbed a can and inspected it. “I should have known the jackass liked light beer.”
I knew nothing about beer. I had just bought what Paul said to buy. “Uh, you don’t like light beer?” I asked.
Claus cracked open the can and chugged half of it. “I like my beer to taste like beer.”
Again, I had no idea what that meant. “Um, okay.”
“Come and eat before it gets cold, sweets,” Claus called.
I held my breath and pinched my arm. “Ow,” I whispered. I looked around, expecting to be transported back to my bed because this all had to be a dream.
Claus was in my house with Chinese food, drinking Paul’s beers and calling me sweets. Things that would happen in a dream, not when I was awake.
“Are you drunk?” I blurted. I could count on one hand the amount of times I had been around drunk Claus and that had to be what was going on right now.
He held up his beer. “I’m not a lightweight, Stevie. Half a beer does not do me in.”
I wasn’t talking about the beer he had just drank. “You must have drank before you came over.”
He shook his head. “I drove here. I don’t drink and drive.”
“Then why are you here? You never come here, and suddenly you’re here, and I don’t understand why.” I sighed, and my shoulders slumped. “Why are you here?” I asked again.
“Dinner,” he replied simply. “We both gotta eat.”
With every word he said, I just had the same question. WHY?
“Stevie,” he called softly. “Just eat, and stop thinking so hard about everything. I’m here to eat dinner with you.”
I held back the urge to scream why and just pushed off the door. “Do you want to eat at the table or in front of the TV?”
“I’m not fancy, sweets. We can set up in front of the TV. Fire up one of those Christmas movies you love.”
