The Harris Men by RM Johnson

Author:RM Johnson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster

TWENTY

Austin had been away from his family for roughly a month. He had gotten himself an apartment, a small two-bedroom, where the second bedroom doubled as a den. Just as he had wanted, he had his own space, his privacy, and the time to do with it what he wanted.

He had a large bookshelf in the living room. He put his recliner next to it, enabling him to just reach over, barely moving in his seat, to grab a book. A few magazines sat fanned on the coffee table. They had been that way since the last time he looked at them, and that was two weeks ago. One of the pleasures of living alone, he thought. If something is set one way, and you don’t move it, it will remain that way forever. He wouldn’t have to wonder on the way home from work if that last little bit of his favorite ice cream was left in the icebox. Hell, he could build a house of cards on the kitchen table, leave his apartment for a week, and when he came back, it would be standing there just as perfect as when he left it. No noises, no kids yelling, no wife nagging, just the gentle low droning of the refrigerator, or the occasional ringing of the telephone. It was so quiet sometimes, when he was sitting in his recliner, reading one of his books, he could hear the ticking of his wristwatch. It was eerie and sometimes Austin would find himself making noises, talking to himself, just to hear the sound of a voice.

Over the last month he had been fighting himself to try and stick with what he thought he wanted. There were times when he thought of just giving the whole thing up, packing up and going back home and forgetting everything. It would have been so easy, because during those times he was so lonely. It took everything he had just to think rationally, to tell himself that if things were worth going back to, he wouldn’t have left to begin with. He didn’t want to go back home and three days later feel trapped again, then have to go through that ordeal of leaving again.

What he missed most were his children. They were the sunshine in his world, and now without them, each and every day seemed black with despair. He missed them running up to him in the morning, his son sitting in his lap, yanking on his tie. He missed his daughter asking to climb his back or swing on his arm. He missed hearing their voices and smelling them after they just had their baths, when they would run into his bedroom and jump into bed with him and Trace. It was terrible to be away from them, and each day that passed, he knew he was missing so much of their lives.

He had only seen them twice since he had left. Once on a Saturday, and the last time, a Friday night.

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