Last night, my mother announced that we’re having company today. Her best friend from college, whom she hasn’t seen since then, is bringing her family to spend the afternoon with us.

The distraction is welcomed, but I really wanted to go to Books-A-Million to express my anger to the manager. As it turns out, I don’t even have time to make a call, not to mention take a trip to that store.

My mother’s friend, Catherine, comes precisely at eleven in the morning – right on schedule. Mom warned me that she is always on time, so I couldn’t linger in my pajamas like I usually do. Instead I got up early, helped Mom clean the house and prepared a huge, delicious brunch.

“Catherine, this is my daughter, Abigail,” Mom says brightly. As I shake Miss Catherine’s hand, my mother continues, “Abigail, this is my ‘bestest’, Catherine.” Miss Catherine then introduces her husband, but her son interrupts loudly. He steps forward and boldly takes care of his own introduction, including his age, his best friends’ names and his favorite food. He attempts to continue but his mother reprimands him for interrupting while my parents and his father laugh.

When he asks me, “Do you have a boyfriend?” I’m extremely concerned about the way the rest of the afternoon will go, and just as I fear, it goes downhill from there.

We sit down at the dining table for brunch, and Zachary, the little redhead, insists on sitting next to me. He eyes me and copies everything that I do.

“Aw, I think our son has his first crush,” Miss Catherine comments, glancing over at her husband with a sweet smile on her face.

I’m sure his parents find that to be cute, but I feel like I need to toss lunch, and I haven’t even eaten yet!

Zachary tries to help me by putting rolls that he grabbed whole-fisted onto my plate. At one point he spilled his orange juice on the table and onto his lap. I’m not sure why this surprises me but he appears genuinely embarrassed. I move my right leg just in time to miss the juice that begins to drip down the table linen and onto the floor.

Catherine gives her son a two minute time-out from the table while we clean up the mess he made, but he whines so incessantly that I consider pleading to bring him back to the table! Admittedly, Zachary is a little more careful and in control at the end of those two woeful minutes.

Zachary devours about seven devilled eggs, almost as soon as he returns to his chair, shoveling one after another into his mouth. “These are good!” he says with a mouthful of eggs.

“Thank you!” I say. “I made them!”

“I like it when a girl can cook.”

I almost choke on the strawberry I just put into my mouth. “Okay, how old are you again?” I ask sarcastically.

“Almost seven!” Zachary replies proudly.

Another round of laughter breaks out, but I don’t find it funny at all.

The beautiful Maple Honey Turkey Wraps are enjoyed by his parents, but he doesn’t seem to like it one bit. He promptly puts it on my plate as if I would actually eat his handled and bitten wrap.

The little garbage disposal ate nearly the entire plate of pigs-in-a-blanket that took me almost an hour to painstakingly prepare. I refuse to tell him I made it as I watch him shovel the last one in his mouth. I’m nauseated before my stomach feels full and I excuse myself from the table.

My mother eyes me curiously as she permits me to leave. Much to my chagrin, the little redhead follows me…

All the way to my room.

“Zachary,” I say, “you can’t come in here. It’s private.”

“Dad said every room in the house belongs to everyone!”

“But this is not your house, Zachary.”

“But I’m your guest.”

“Excuse me,” I respond with the intent to close the door, but I hear the sound of a text that distracts me for a moment. Leaving the obnoxious red-head at the door in hopes that he would take a hint and return to his parents, I race over to my side table to retrieve my phone.

Still waiting for that thank you…

-Chase

“What do I do with this guy?” I whisper.

“Play with me!” Zachary replies, apparently assuming I was talking about him. The smile on his face is bright and his green eyes are wide.

“What? I wasn’t talking about you.”

“Oh… Was it your boyfriend?”

Feeling my face flush, I say firmly, “Get out of my room!” as I point to the exit. I don’t really expect him to obey, but to my surprise, he does. Once he’s out the door, I quickly close and lock it. I press my ear against it and breathe a sigh of relief when the sound of his footsteps fade.

Finally! Peace!

I plop down onto my bed and pick up the phone, still wondering what I should answer.

I decide not to answer it and instead text Mandy.

Me: Can you believe he just texted me again?!

Mandy: Did you answer him the first time?

Me: No, and I’m not answering this one either! I should change my number. >.<

Mandy: Lol. As long as you promise to give me your new number.

A firm knocking on my door interrupts my conversation. I march over to it and swing it open.

“What?!” I shout, regretting it when I see my mother’s surprised eyes. They then narrow into slits.

“What did you do to Zachary?”

“I didn’t do anything to him!”

“He said you yelled at him.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“They’re only here for a little while longer,” Mom says empathetically. “Would you mind entertaining him for a little while?”

“Yes,” I’m quick to say.

“I can see that he’s a little difficult, but sweetheart, you’re normally good with kids.”

“But Mom, he’s not normal!”

“Sadly, I have to agree with you on that, but this is a great opportunity to show him the love of Christ.”

“That’s easier said than done,” I mumble.

My mom walks out, apparently not having heard what I said, and two seconds later, the little red head enters my room with a victorious smile on his face.

“I have two rules for you,” I begin. “One: be quiet, and two is don’t move.”

“Can I breathe?” Zachary asks sarcastically.

I answer him with a roll of my eyes, then return to my phone, still puzzled as to why I’m having to deal with two similar personalities at once.

What do I answer?

As I consider a well-weighted answer, I hear a sound at the window behind me. I turn around just in time to see Zachary hanging out the window, barking at the dog next door. The thought crosses my mind of pushing him out, and for his sake, I’m glad I know Jesus.

I pull him in and reprimand him, then close the window.

“Can I go play with the dog?”

“No, he’s a Pit Bull,” I answer. “He’ll eat you!”

“I thought you’d be happy if he ate me.”

“It would be too gross to watch.”

“Do you have any games?”

“No, none that you’d like.”

Zachary frowns. “I’m bored. Your mommy said you’d do something fun with me.”

“Do you like music?”

“Yes!” he answers, nodding excitedly. “I play piano. Can I play the one in your music room? Your mom said that it’s okay.”

“Did she really?” I ask, raising a brow.

“Mhm!”

“Okay. Follow me.”

Before leading Zachary to the music room, I grab my phone and walk downstairs. Zachary jumps down them, two at a time, making loud sounds that startle me each time. It sounds as if someone is tumbling down the stairs.

I become concerned and startled further when my phone repeatedly buzzes in my hand. I instantly think: Emergency?!

As I unlock my phone and read the texts, I misplace my foot and lose my balance. I fall the rest of the way down the stairs, but I refuse to let go of my phone.

The world continues to spin even after I land, and I find that my hand still firmly grips the phone.

“What were you thinking, Abigail?” Zachary asks, towering over my still body. I think I can’t move! “You could have broken your phone!”

I glare up at him, replying, “I could have broken a bone!”

His eyes widen and a wide smile comes to his face. “Ooh! That sounds like a song!” he exclaims. “You could have broken your phone, I could have broken a bone, and you could have broken–”

“Okay, that’s enough!”

“Take me to the music room! Take me there now!” 

“Everything okay over there?!” my mother shouts.

“Yes, Mrs. Coulson, everything is okay!” Zachary answers.

“Is Abigail with you?!”

“Yes, Mom, I’m here! I’m okay!”

To my surprise, Zachary actually extends a hand to help me up, and I hesitate for a moment, not trusting him. Instead, I get up myself, and he appears hurt. Then I check my phone.

I have received five texts, all from the beast.

1.)    I know this isn’t the wrong number, so stop pretending.

2.) If you don’t answer me, I’ll continue to spam you. J

3.) If you don’t answer me, it’ll be worst for you on Thursday.

4.) I’ll make sure it’s a nightmare for you! J                                                   

5.) By the way, I read one of that Andy guy’s books. You really believe that stuff?

Before I realize what I’m doing, I break my own vow of silence. You can say I’m “certainly not Beauty,” and that I’m incompetent in the kitchen, but you can’t mess with my Christian beliefs! My fingers fly as I type this scathing answer: I knew you know your ABC’s, but I didn’t know you could read!

Chase replies: Ouch. L

Chase: So this IS your number. J

Me: You’re going to be so fired when I tell your boss that you took a customer’s phone number to harass them. J

Chase: You were stalking me! I only took your phone number so the police can track you down when I report you.

Me: I already know where you live. J  There’s no need for me to stalk you elsewhere.

“Take me to the music room!” Zachary whines. “Now, now, now!”

“Zachary, let me be honest with you,” I say in my best attempt at a calm appearance. It is very difficult. “You’re a cute kid, but your behavior cancels out the cute.” Zachary looks intently into my eyes as he listens, then his eyes narrow into slits.

“You’re not cute either!” Zachary then takes my hand, saying, “Take me to the music room or I’ll tell my mom that you called me ugly.”

“I don’t care. Your behavior is ugly.”

“I’m sorry, Abby. I was just wanted you to like me.”

“Well, you won’t get me to like you with the way you’ve been behaving.”

Zachary looks disappointed. “How can I get you to like me?”

“Give all of your toys to the poor children and follow Jesus,” I joke flatly, remembering what Jesus said to the rich man. Now I can fully picture that moment. I’m certain that the young man’s face was not as downcast as Zachary’s is right now. I try hard not to crack a smile.

“Really?” he asks, his eyes wide as saucers. He shakes his head vigorously. “I can’t do that!”

“Then I guess I won’t like you,” I say, my chin held high in the air.

“All my toys?”

“I’m guessing you have a lot, don’t you?”

               “Yes.”

“But not many friends, right?” Somehow I can sense he is very lonely.

“No…” he says slowly, but he suddenly brightens not a second later. “Well, Benjamin is my friend, and so is Cody.”

“Oh, that’s good! So, you have two friends!”

“Will you be my friend?” he asks hopefully.

“Only if you promise to behave.”

Zachary raises his left hand. “I promise.”

I giggle and explain to him that, if you’re making a promise, you raise your right hand – not your left. He quickly drops his left hand and raises his right.

“All right, let’s go play some music,” I say, taking his hand and leading him to the room he’s pestering me about. “You do know how to play, right?”

“Yes,” he answers. When I open the door to the music room, Zachary gasps. “You have a guitar, and a piano, and a… what is this place?”

“My dad plays every single instrument in this room and he records his music. It’s also a studio.”

Zachary yells, “Cool!” as he runs to the piano. He begins to play, but I can only handle it for a few seconds.

I cover my ears and yell, “Okay, I’ll be over here while you play!”

“Don’t you want to listen to me?” Zachary asks, appearing innocent of how utterly annoying his attack of the piano keys is.

“I’ll be your backup guitarist!” I respond before donning my noise-blocking headphones.

I lose myself completely in a song I had been trying to complete for the greater part of two weeks. Suddenly, I am startled back to reality. Zachary grabs the right side of the headphone and yells in my ear.

“Your phone just rang!”

I leap to my feet and run over to where I left it on top of the piano. Sierra usually calls me on Saturday afternoons so that we can catch up on each other’s personal current events.

I miss the call and receive a voicemail.

What could he want now? Why is he bothering me?

I click the number and play the voicemail.

“Hi Abby,” says a sweet, young voice. “I miss you. I miss playing with you. Can you come over to play dolls with me?”

In the background, the beast says, “Emily, what are you doing with my phone?! You didn’t make a call, did you?!”

“Bye Abby,” whispers Emily. “I have to go now!”

“Who was that?” Zachary says in my face, snapping me back to reality. I smell the onions from the devilled eggs he had earlier.

“Your girlfriend,” I answer after taking a long sigh.