Friend Me by John Faubion

the toys scattered about the floor, stacked on the stairway. He pictured home .
    â€œHello?”
    Scott was startled by Rachel’s voice. “Rachel, is that you?” He felt foolish as soon as he asked the question. Of course it was her. “I’ve been trying to call you.”
    â€œIs something wrong? Why are you calling?”
    â€œNo, nothing’s wrong. I just had a few minutes and wanted to talk to you. It’s been a tough day, and I really wanted to hear your voice.”
    â€œScott, did anything go wrong at work? You’re not in trouble, are you?” Her voice had a hard, worried edge. As if she were about to hear bad news.
    Scott closed his eyes. Was she suspicious of him? “No, Rachel, nothing is wrong. Absolutely nothing. I just wanted to talk to you, to hear your voice. That’s all.” She was way too good at interpreting his moods.
    â€œWell, I’ve been worried about you. You ran out this morning without even telling me good-bye. That’s not like you. And, you know . . . last night you were . . . just different.”
    Here I am, on the defensive again. Can I not even talk to her without having to defend myself? “There’s no problem, Rachel. Did you just get home?”
    â€œYes, I just walked in the door a few minutes ago. Angela is still out in the car strapped in her car seat. I have to run out and get her. Can you wait for a few minutes? Do you want me to call you back?”
    â€œNo, no need. I was just checking in because I had a few minutes while I was waiting for everyone else to come back from lunch. Plus, I’m sorry for leaving this morning the way I did. I didn’t even kiss you good-bye.”
    â€œI was afraid I’d done something wrong. I didn’t, did I?”
    â€œNo, it’s just me. I’m glad you’re so patient.” He looked up, noticing people coming through the doors. “Oh, great. Everyone is coming back now, so any privacy I might’ve had just went out the window. I’ll talk to you again tonight when I get home.”
    Scott could hear things rattling and bumping in the background. The sounds of groceries and the results of a shopping trip being carried in from the garage.
    â€œOkay, Scott. But I’m worried about you. You just haven’t been yourself.” Something went klumph in the background. “I’ve got to get out there and get Angela. Let me know if you’re going to be late, okay?”
    â€œOkay, talk to you later. I guess I just picked a bad time to call.”
    The background hiss of the cellular network went quiet, transformed into a muffled silence as his wife terminated the call.
    Sometimes I feel like I’m living in a padded room. I’m not connecting with anybody .
    Scott shook himself out of his reverie, looked back at his display. Thirty more seconds, and the Stock Scan program would be complete. He waited for it to finish.
    The screen revealed three likely candidates for an option trade.
    The third candidate surprised him.
    The company was named Solar Charge. There had been a lot of news about it when the administration in Washington had decided to guarantee it a $500 million loan to pursue its unique solar power technology. They had developed a patented process to manufacture and cut solar array panels into any conceivable design configuration. They promised to turn flagpoles into solar collectors. The CEO was a personal friend of the president, and the second loan guarantee was in the works. The technology was green and trendy, and the government, the federal government, was behind it in a big way. A guaranteed success.
    Solar Charge’s stock had been rising dramatically over thelast six months. For whatever reason, call options were still relatively cheap. If he were to purchase call options thirty days out, only $5 above the current stock trading price, was there any way he could lose? Every month for the last ten