So You Call Yourself a Man by Carl Weber

anything?”
    â€œNope. She thought I was out with you last night. And around three, when Michelle called talking that mandatory overtime crap, I called and told Cathy I was over here and I was too drunk to drive home. I needed her to pick me up. She wasn’t about to get out the bed, get the kids dressed, and come get me. I’m safe as long as I get my ass home before the boys’ baseball games at noon.”
    â€œMan, you got some shit with you.” I laughed.
    â€œIt ain’t like I wanna lie to my wife, Sonny. I just think I would hurt her more if I told her the truth.”
    â€œI hear you, man. What she don’t know won’t hurt her.”
    â€œExactly. I’m just afraid of the day she finds out the truth.”
    â€œI’m afraid for you,” I chimed in.
    He glanced at his watch. “Look, not to change the subject, but it’s getting late. We keep putt-putting around and we’re not gonna be able to stop for breakfast, and Marcus and I haven’t eaten.”
    â€œNeither have I.”
    â€œSo, you ready to go?” I nodded and he opened the sliding glass door to tell Marcus to come inside.
    â€œWhy don’t you put my bag in the car? I just have to call my wife and let her know I’m on my way to the airport.” I pointed at my luggage, but James didn’t move. “What?” I asked.
    â€œYou one henpecked dude, you know that?” He picked up my bag and headed for the door, followed closely by Marcus. “I’ll meet you in the car. Come on, Marcus.”
    I ignored him, reaching for my phone and dialing my home number.
    â€œThe number you have dialed is not in service. No further information is available,” a recording informed me.
    â€œWhat the fuck you mean, no further information is available? That’s my fucking home phone. Somebody’s gonna tell me something,” I cursed. I dialed the number again, this time using speed dial. I was hoping I’d made a mistake when I punched in the number.
    â€œThe number you have dialed is not in service. No further…” This time, I didn’t let the recording finish. What the hell was going on? It was impossible that our phone could be disconnected. I gave Jessica all the household bills to pay right before I left two weeks ago.
    I was starting to get a little angry at Jessica, but then I cooled down. It was my fault for not putting the bills in the mail in the first place. The frustrating part was that it was only six in the morning on the West Coast, and the telephone company wasn’t going to be open for another three and a half hours. Jessica would probably go crazy if she couldn’t contact me before I got on the plane.
    â€œHey, Sonny?” James yelled. “You got a delivery man.” I walked outside, still confused over the phone call, to see a uniformed man standing in the driveway.
    â€œIs this 44 Lawrence Street?” he asked.
    â€œYeah, it is, but I’m not expecting any packages.”
    He looked down at his clipboard. “Does Sonny Harrison live here?”
    â€œI’m Sonny Harrison.”
    â€œWell, then I have some packages for you. Where should I put them?”
    â€œI don’t know. Bring them inside,” I told him, then looked to the sidewalk, where I saw a half-dozen large cardboard boxes. As I watched him carry them into the house, I wracked my brain, but couldn’t think of any explanation for what could be in these boxes.
    I checked the return address on one of the labels: SONNY HARRISON , 44 LAWRENCE STREET, ELMONT, NEW YORK .
    â€œHey,” I called to the driver, “I didn’t send anything to myself.”
    â€œSir, I just bring the boxes to the address on the label,” he answered without turning to face me. He was too busy unloading another five boxes from his truck.
    After he left, James came in the house. He must have strapped Marcus in his car seat because the boy