To Love A Ghost || ONC 2023 Shortlist

Chapter Four

I could've probably gotten a smaller U-Haul trailer. 

Looking around the townhouse, there was really nothing in the way of furniture I wanted to take with me. When Cindy and I married, I'd let her redecorate my bachelor-pad townhouse and so the furnishings were more her taste than mine. Aunt Lorraine's house, while dated and shabby, was still fully furnished since nobody had wanted to bother with going through and cleaning out her belongings. Other than a few kitchen gadgets and bathroom supplies, computer stuff, my books and clothes, I didn't want or need anything else. The stuff I was taking would easily fit in the trailer. It was mostly just boxes I'd packed after work every evening that week. 

I'd emailed my resignation letter to my employer on Sunday night, and was called to my supervisor's office just after nine the next morning. There, I got chewed out for giving only a week's notice and told it would have an impact on the reference they'd give any prospective future employer.

I nodded, apologized, and all the while thought, Who cares? From now on, I'm going to be my own employer.

I spent the rest of the week delegating unfinished projects to others in my department and cleaning out the cubicle that had been my home away from home for the last seven years. There was a bit of a tug, and more than a little trepidation. But my course was set. No turning back.

As a send-off, on Friday a small group of co-workers took me out to The Newsroom for an extended lunch. Randy wasn't among them. He'd barely spoken to me all week, only enough for me to realize that my former friend had sided firmly with Cindy in our split, and that he thought I was dumber than a box of rocks. Asshole. All those years of friendship apparently didn't mean a thing to him.

Whatever.

A new chapter in my life was about to begin, and I couldn't wait. Back at the office after lunch, I counted down the endless minutes until five o'clock. Then I gathered up what remained of my personal items, handed in my badge to the building security office, and left work for the last time.

I still hadn't called my dad yet. I didn't know if my mother had really expected me to or if she'd just been trying to intimidate me into it, but I kept finding reasons to delay speaking to him. As pissed as Mom was, I knew Dad would be worse, and I saw no reason to again hash out my life decisions that had nothing to do with either of them. I was almost thirty years old for fuck's sake, and they'd had me on a short leash doing what they wanted for long enough.

Coincidentally, the dreaded call came that same evening, just as I climbed the steps to my front door. Out on the lawn, a brand-new For Sale sign waved gently back and forth in the early fall breeze. The realtor said she'd already gotten a few responses and expressed the hope that the house would sell before Thanksgiving.

I swiped to answer my phone without looking at the screen, expecting the caller to be either my newly retained divorce lawyer, the real estate agent, or perhaps Cindy herself. I'd texted her on Monday, telling her I was selling the townhouse and she could have anything that wasn't packed up by Friday afternoon. She'd texted back on Wednesday saying she'd have a moving company at the house by six, and asked if she could please have the cream damask curtains in the living room which I'd bought. She didn't ask where I was going, though she probably already knew the answer to that question.

"Hello?" I wedged the phone between my shoulder and ear as I unlocked my front door.

"Jason," my father intoned, and my heart gave a heavy jolt, and then sank to the pit of my stomach.

"Hey, Dad," I said as I stepped inside the house. With a casualness that didn't match the roiling in my gut, I said, "What's up?"

"Well, son, I spent some time on the phone with your father-in-law just now," he said, his voice tight. "And then I spoke to your mother. Seems there have been some things going on that you haven't told me about."