Dean(ish)

André and I carpool every Monday and Wednesday. The routine is simple - I leave my house; I go to his house; I call him to tell him I’m there; we leave and go to work. I actually left my house early (aka, “on time”) this morning so I was feeling extra good. I made good time up Hwy 26 so I got to André’s in about 20 minutes.

When I pulled up in front of his apartment, I gave him a ring. No answer. ‘Strange,’ I thought. I called again, but still no answer. I parked the car and headed for the front door.

A few knocks on the door only lead to more confusion - ‘Where the hell is André?’ I walked about back and knocked on their patio door. (Good thing they’re on the first floor, otherwise I’d have to get MacGyver.) Jake, one of their three dogs, was on the couch. I expected him to get hyper and bark at the site of me, but he looked rather blasé. He eventually walked over to me after I kept telling him, “Go get André!” Since Jake wasn’t helping, I looked at the park behind the apartment to see if Dré had gone to walk the dogs. There was no sign of him, so I walked over to their bedroom.

The shades were open and I could see Laura still asleep; it appeared as though André had gotten out of bed. At this point, I could only assume that he was either in the bathroom suffering from some sort of intestinal disorder, or he was walking the dogs and got mugged. I looked around the park again, but saw nothing. I called André’s phone once more, then I called Laura’s phone. Still nothing. I walked over to their bedroom again and gently knocked on the window to no avail. “Fuck gentle,” I said to myself as I knocked a bit harder, trying to awaken Laura so she could tell me where the hell Dré was.

Suddenly, straight out of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” video arose Brynn, two dogs, and André with a child’s comforter wrapped around him on the far side of the bed. He jumped out of bed and met me at the patio door.

“Sorry man, I thought I told you; I’m not goin’ in today. I have to watch Brynn. How long’ve you been out here?”

“About ten minutes,” I said. “I thought you got mugged.”

“Sorry, I shoulda told you yesterday.” With that, I left and went to work. Ten minutes late.

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