Personal Day

He looked at his reflection in the mirror as he scrubbed away at his front teeth, desperate to remove the coffee stains before his upcoming dental appointment. As he brushed away, the remnants of the toothpaste made its way into his goatee and he wiped it away before taking a deep breath. He turned the faucet’s hot knob all the way to the right and soaked his brush underneath. After washing it clean, he placed it on the right side of the sink. He turned around and washed his face with a towel that dangled over the edge of the bathtub.

Looking down at the watch on his wrist, he realized that he had just thirty-two minutes before his date with a dental professional. He tossed the towel away into the hamper as he stepped down the stairs and into the kitchen. The refrigerator door swung open and he grabbed a bottle of water to take for the road. Hasting his way into the foyer, he bent down to scoop up his size twelve steel toed work boots.

Henry was living out his later years by working second shift as a security guard at the mall. His gradual descent into a blue collar man came at the price of his son. He was once a big shot executive of a nationwide advertising agency, depression and hopelessness ran amuck throughout his head after the kidnapping of his son.

Henry knelt down and slipped his foot in each of his boots before tying the laces. Once they were tied, he made his way back to the kitchen to grab his keys that he left on the counter overnight. The keys jingled in his palm as he snatched them and made his way to the front door. As he reached for the brass doorknob, he noticed the mailman on the porch stuffing the box with monthly obligations. Oblivious to the gut wrenching blow that he dropped inside, he tipped his hat and went on his way to the next house on the block.

As he thumbed through the stack of bills he came across a smaller envelope address to Henry Rollins of 924 Oak Street. The fact that it was without a return address intrigued him, he ripped it open and tossed the others at his feet once he read the opening line.

His face trembled; he folded the letter up and put it in his back pocket. Henry paced back and forth before deciding to go back inside. Slamming the door behind him, he scurried to the kitchen table and removed the letter from where it rested. It was a struggle for him to unfold the page; he cringed as he opened it at a snail’s pace.

Once the courage was mustered, he laid it on the table in front of him and read through it.

Dear father,

It has been twelve years, six months and forty-seven days since we have last seen each other. I hope a part of you has let go. Not only of me, but of mom, too. I really hope you have come to the realization that there was nothing you could do to help. She was dying anyways, we all know that. You may be wondering, “why now?” I saw you on TV last weekend. It was a special about how advertising runs the world. Everything we do, have done or will do is influenced by guys we have never met, nor will. I know and understand the effect that my disappearance had on you and the family as a whole, but the most important thing is that I’m ok, right? Because I’m not so sure that I would be, had I stayed with you. In a way it’s like being kidnapped by men with black masks and assault rifles was the best thing that ever happened to me. It’s not like you had any interest in stopping it. I’ll never buy into your explanation regarding your whereabouts; I don’t believe that you were in a meeting at all. Maybe somewhere in that sick head of yours, you really do believe that steaming pile of horse shit that you served up to the police. If we’re being honest here (and I am), we both know that you were out drilling your secretary on your lunch break while mom lay in her death bed.. but I digress. I was better off with these people. They’re not animals, dad. They’re people. At first it was lonely, I can’t deny that, but as time went along I accepted that what I left behind paled in comparison to what I have gained. Anyways, I’m rambling and I’ve gotta head to class. Please don’t try to find me. You will be unsuccessful. I love you.

-   Cody

The digital clock on the oven read 1:08 PM. He was late for his appointment, but his disposition relayed the message that he didn’t give too much of a damn about that. Henry was never one to wear his heart on his sleeve but this letter rocked him to his core. He pounded his fist on the table and let out a grunt that came from the bowels of his stomach.

He crumpled the letter into a ball and tossed it into the trash before opening the cabinet under the sink.  Bending down, he selected a bottle of Black Velvet from his collection of spirits. He twisted the cap off and took a swig from it, wiping the whiskey from his goatee.

Henry stood up and grabbed his phone from the table and pawed through it until he found the contact labeled, ‘work.’ After three rings, the receptionist answered.

In a cold, callous tone he told her he wouldn’t be showing up to watch over the mall tonight.

“I need to take a personal day. I won’t be coming in.”