Ahh, home early on a glorious fall day. And maybe even with enough time, and daylight, to get nine holes in. I was thinking all this and envisioning long, straight tee shots as I pulled into the driveway.
I let myself in and made a beeline for the fridge. There was just enough time for a little snack before changing. I opened the door and went to reach for a yogurt, one of those ridiculously expensive but good for you brands, when I stopped short. There were no yogurts. But there had to be. There were three in the fridge this morning.
Why on earth could I not find them? I wondered if Terri had started a yogurt binging diet.
Something else was odd. The orange juice was on the left. It’s never on the left. And where was the milk? The milk apparently had also decided to change places and had joined the OJ on the left.
Hmmmm, I thought, stepping back to survey the rearranged fridge.
I spotted most things. They were just moved around, but at least I could find them, but not the yogurt.
“Where the hell is the yogurt?” I asked out loud out of frustration.
“On the left, behind the milk,” a voice said from the living room.
I froze right there, holding the refrigerator door open and afraid to move. It was a male voice. And I was sure I heard it. Well, kind of sure. Maybe I imagined it.
I stepped away from the fridge as quietly as I could, and started out of the kitchen for the living room. I grabbed the fruit bowl on my way, just in case I needed to defend myself. It was the first thing I saw and I needed something, or at least I thought I did. I could pelt the intruder with apples and clementines.
I walked cautiously into the living room and saw a guy stretched out on the couch and scrolling on his phone. A young guy with longish hair. It was like one of our kids had returned home, but in a different body.
“Hey,” he said, like he stopped by the house every day. “Your fridge was a disaster. I moved things around a bit, you know, to give your food a better feng shui.”
He showed no signs of attacking me, or moving off the couch for that matter.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Trevor,” he said.
He had yet to take his eyes of his phone and look at me.
I nodded and tried to remember if I knew a Trevor. I was certain the answer was no.
“I’m going to need a bit more from you…Trevor,” I said.
“I go by Trev,” he said, looking up finally. “And why are you carrying a fruit bowl?”
I clutched the bowl tighter under my arm and glanced at the first apple I would throw if this escalated. It was the big, bruised one that nobody wanted. It had been sitting in the bowl for more than a week. It was about to earn its keep.
“The fruit bowl is not important…Trev. What is important is why you’re in my house, how you got in, how long you’ve been here, and what the hell is going on,” I said, agitated. “And while we’re at it, get your feet off my damn couch.”
“Whoa, whoa,” Trevor swinging his feet off the couch and moving to a sitting position.
For the first time I could see he was wearing a work t-shirt of some sort. It was a dull orange and had a little oval with his name. Trev, it read.
“Hey, sorry,” he said, “I thought I was doing you a favor waiting around until you got home. I’m with ValueBigSaveRetailMart. You know, VBSRM, Vibssrum.”
He was smiling, like he had satisfied my curiousity. He had no idea how close he was to driving me over the edge.
“Are you trying to piss me off, Trev?” I asked.
“Why so tense?” he asked.
“Because I was going to play golf,” I said.
“And you’re this tense before you get out there?” he asked, shaking his head. “Good luck with that.”
I put the fruit bowl down, but made sure if was within reach. Then I took my phone out and waved it at him.
“I’m going to count from ten down to one,” I said. “If I don’t have all the answers I need when I get to one, I’ll call the police to help sort this out. Ten…”
Trev waved his hands and said, “Okay, geez, just give me a second.”
“Nine…”
“I delivered the groceries that your wife ordered from Vibssrum. We put them right into the fridge for you,” he said. “Satisfied?”
“No. How did you get in? And eight, by the way…”
“Through the front door, how else? You think I broke in here or something?”
“Seven…”
“Okay, come on, give me a break. I came in through the smart lock system on your door. You know, with the code.”
“Why don’t I know anything about this? Six…”
Trevor stood up and I instinctively reached for the bruised apple. He looked at me, then the apple and said, “You just get like a hunger surge or something?”
“Five,” I said.
“Oh crap, okay, look, here…right here,” he said, scrolling like a madman on his phone. “Here’s the order and your account and all the details.”
He handed me his phone and I put down the apple to take it. I read everything about Vibssrum’s Fridge Friends Non-Intrusive In-Home Delivery service, and saw an order in our name.
My phone rang and I handed Trevor his device back and answered mine. It was Terri.
“Oh, my,” she said. “I just turned on the live feed from Trev’s body cam and saw this. I forgot to tell you I signed us up for…”
“Yes, yes, I know,” I said. “Or at least now I do. Wait, he’s wearing a body camera?”
Trev pointed proudly to a little circle by the patch with his name on his shirt.
Terri cleared it up and when she was done I turned to Trev.
“You’re legit, I think,” I said. I grabbed the fruit bowl. “Apple?” I asked.