Inspiration

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His wife found him staring at the computer.

“Um, Mark? What are you doing?”

He looked up, startled. “I’m waiting for him.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so. He doesn’t use Facebook.” She clicked his other tabs. “Or Twitter. Or Pinterest. Or email. Or idle games. Oh, and definitely not Google Plus. Does anyone use that?”

“I’ve had him get ahold of me before on–”

“Go play with the kids.”

“I need his help. He’ll know what to do. Without him, I just can’t–”

“Go. He’ll get here when he gets here. He always does.”

Mark stood and headed outside, where his wife had recently banished the kids. And now him.

“Let’s play basketball, Dad!”

Mark looked down the sidewalk, hoping to catch a glimpse of his friend walking along toward the house. Sometimes he just stopped by, like old friends do.

“Come on, let’s play PIG.”

His son threw him the ball, and he caught it awkwardly. “Okay, then,” he said, looking one last time to the corner. “I suppose I can whoop you again if you want.”

They played a few rounds while his daughter booed whenever he made a basket. She became increasingly bored as they played and eventually demanded that he play Tigers with her. So he walked around the yard on all fours and pounced on small imaginary creatures until his wife came out to say it was time to come in and get ready for bed.

Mark stood up, alarmed. “He’s not here yet! Did he call?”

“No. Now help me get the kids brushed.”

“I need to go look for him. Maybe he’s lost. He gets turned around sometimes.”

“After,” his wife said.

Mark looked longingly down the street, then rushed in to help. Soon he was out again, striding down the sidewalk, crossing block after block, hoping to spot his friend. There were others out walking, and sometimes he thought he recognized this one or that, but it was only an illusion, a trick of the brain.

At home, his wife wanted to watch a show, and he sat, despondent. “Where do you think he is?” he asked. “Maybe he won’t come.”

“Maybe he’ll come tomorrow,” his wife said cheerily. “You know how he gets distracted. Now how about getting Netflix going?”

Mark listened for the creak of the porch, for the gentle pressure of the door being opened. But it did not come and eventually he forgot to listen.

In bed he lay awake, wondering what he should do. Mark needed to talk to his friend, but his friend was one of those people who preferred to stay “off the grid.” A nice fellow, a smart, engaging fellow, but odd and frustratingly whimsical.

Perhaps he would stop by tomorrow.

At half past two, Mark woke. He heard knocking down below.

“Oh, not now,” he said groggily. “Why now?”

He turned on the lamp, scribbled a few notes he hoped he could read in the morning, and went back to bed.