The Man From Milwaukee by Rick R. Reed

Author:Rick R. Reed [Reed, Rick R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Thriller, Horror, Gay / Lesbian / LGBT
ISBN: 9781648900457
Google: RuSYzQEACAAJ
Goodreads: 54271796
Publisher: NineStar Press
Published: 2020-07-19T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Dear Jeff,

It’s been a week since Mother’s life insurance came through.

It wasn’t much, certainly not enough to live on for a long time, but adequate to keep me for a few months, maybe even as long as a year while I figure out what to do with my life. Good thing the payment came through, too, because guess what? I quit my job! No more bitchy bosses, no more smelly, crowded L train cars, no more hours of mindless work, benefiting no one except an overly rich insurance company. No more being a prisoner in a cubicle hell.

I didn’t really mean to quit…at least not so suddenly. It was sort of an accident.

I told you about Tyler abandoning me in my last letter. When I woke and he was gone, I was devastated. I thought we’d started something beautiful the night before. I thought he was my soul mate. I thought we’d be together forever. I thought the union of our bodies meant something.

It was that day I quit my job even though I didn’t know then I was quitting.

I couldn’t go in and face seeing him after he left me lying alone in the bed we’d shared without even so much as a goodbye. I spent the day moping around the apartment, remembering how he’d promised to make us breakfast in the morning and how we might turn the day into a snow day, like back when we were schoolboys.

I waited around, thinking he might return. Maybe he was out, picking up coffee, I told myself.

I looked for a note.

When the hours passed and the sun came streaming in, I knew he wasn’t coming back.

Ever.

I tried calling him at work a couple of times. It’s hard enough to get through to someone who makes his living on the phone, harder still when you’re pretty sure that someone wants nothing to do with you.

I didn’t report off that day, nor the next. Finally, on the fourth day of my not turning up, Jennifer Vidovic, my boss called, whining at me. Why hadn’t I called? Did I realize how irresponsible I was being? What was the story?

The story, bitch, is that I was fed up. I’d had enough of eight hours of mind-numbing boredom every day, of mindlessly repeating the same words, over and over, to different people. Sick of writing up reports with boilerplate words.

I felt like a puppet with no brain of my own.

“I’ll pack up your things and send them to you,” she said, very curtly, before hanging up.

And, just like that, I was free.

I’ve spent the past seven days thinking about Tyler, about what I should do. It’s hard to just let him go. Especially now, when it seems I have no one.

Emory

*

ONE WEEK LATER.

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