Unwelcome Homecoming

Chicago, IL

Jack Haley pulled into the driveway of his house and turned off the engine. He hadn't been home for two weeks, and even under the glow of the street lamps, it was apparent that the lawn needed mowing.

He sighed. Work was a real pain. Too many field trips, too little time with family. Eventually, something in their family would break, if it hadn't already.

He locked his old Toyota truck and walked up the porch stairs. He'd come home a day earlier than he'd told Susan, thinking it would be a pleasant surprise. Things weren't great between them lately, and somehow, he thought this might cheer her up. But now, standing at the door to his own house, he suddenly knew he'd been a fool. He should have just told her he was coming home early. Why these stupid games?

He turned the knob and stepped into the house.

The house was warm and smelled of aromatic candles. Susan's voice was coming from the living room. Shit. He definitely should have told her. She was likely hanging out with one of her female friends.

"Jack?!" Susan said, as he stepped into the living room. "I thought you were coming tomorrow."

She was sitting on the sofa with a cup of coffee in her hands. And Jack had been right—she wasn't alone. Only her visitor wasn't a female.

"We finished earlier than expected," Jack said, his eyes shifting to Susan's guest. "Tom? Didn't expect to see you here."

"Hey, Jack," Tom Brown said, rising from the chair. "What's up?"

Jack wasn't the jealous type, but it was odd to find another man in his house, especially on a day when he wasn't supposed to be home.

"It's been a while," he said, walking to the fridge. "You all right, man?"

"Yeah, I'm good." Tom nodded enthusiastically. He was still standing, as if unsure whether to sit back down or leave. "Time flies, man."

Jack grabbed two beers from the fridge and wagged one in Tom's direction with a grin.

"You want something stronger than coffee?"

"Nah, man, I am going to bounce," Tom said, glancing at Susan. He placed his coffee cup on the magazine table. "I've already overstayed my welcome."

"You sure?" Jack asked, and shrugged. "Well, more beer for me, I guess."

"I'll see you off," Susan said, standing up, but Tom raised his hands in protest.

"No, no! It's fine. I'll find my way out. It was good to meet you, Susan. Jack." He nodded at Jack before hurrying out of the room.

Jack followed him with his eyes and took a sip of beer from the bottle.

"Funny guy."

"Jack, please! If you want to have an argument, don't act like you're not bothered."

She jumped up from the sofa and marched into the kitchen, coffee cups in hand.

"Why should I care?" Jack followed her. "He's just your old classmate, right? I mean, you used to date him in high school, but whatever!"

Susan turned to him.

"I ran into Tom at the supermarket and invited him over for coffee. You have no reason to be jealous."

Jack stepped closer to her.

"I'm not jealous. But"—he set the beer bottle on the counter and placed his hands on Susan's shoulders—"it's weird seeing him in our house on the night I'm away. Supposed to be away," he corrected himself.

"Well, perhaps you should be home more often," Susan said, and gently removed his hands from her shoulders.

"Is that what this is about? My job? I'm a private contractor. I go where I'm called."

"I've heard it so many times," Susan said, shaking her head. "Sometimes I feel you never left Atlas."

"I left Atlas for this family."

"But you're not with your family!" She walked to the sink and started washing the cups. She was doing it to hide her tears. He knew that. He also realized it was better to leave her alone for now. They could talk later in bed—or tomorrow morning.

He sighed. If he was honest with himself, he had no reasons to be mad. Yes, he worked hard to keep them afloat, but this hard work was damaging their family. Maybe it was time for a simpler job. A zookeeper in Chicago or a landscape designer—it didn't matter. Just a job that didn't take him across the country five days out of the week.

"Let's talk about it later, all right?"

No answer. Silence. Only the sound of running water from the tap.

"I'll go say hi to Lisa," he said, leaving the kitchen.

Susan didn't respond, but as he walked away, he could have sworn she glanced at him over her shoulder.

****

When he entered his daughter's room, Lisa was sitting at her desk, doing homework. An open laptop, scattered pieces of paper, a cup of tea, and fancy headphones over her head—in that light she could easily pass for a first-year college student working in a coffee shop. Thirteen years old wasn't a joke.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said, gently closing the door behind him.

"Hi," Lisa replied, barely glancing at him. From that angle, she reminded him of Susan. Same hair, same profile, the same tightly pursed lips she made when focused—or when she was mad at him.

"I missed you," Jack said, walking behind his daughter and placing his hands on her shoulders.

"You pissed Mom off," Lisa said. She still didn't look at him. There was a time when she would jump into his arms the moment he entered the house, begging him to play hide-and-seek or some other game, and Jack would gladly oblige. But as she grew older, and Jack spent less and less time with her, the fun had dwindled. He couldn't even remember the last time they'd done something together—just the two of them.

Jack sat on the edge of Lisa's bed to see her face.

"Listen, Lisa. I know you've heard everything, but..."

"You missed my recital this week," she interrupted, pointing to a guitar in the corner. "Are you going to miss my birthday next week, too?"

"No, no way," Jack said, moving closer to his daughter. He took her hand and kissed it. For the first time since he'd entered the room, she looked at him. "Look, whatever happens between Mom and me is temporary. I'm going to make it up to both of you."

Lisa sighed. "You promise?"

"I promise," Jack said, kissing her hand again and smiling. "So, what do you want for your birthday? Please don't tell me it's a pony."

Lisa put on a mock-surprised expression. "How did you know?" she asked and laughed.

There were only a few things in life worth living for, and his daughter's laugh was one of them. It was the laugh you'd expect to hear on every corner of heaven—if heaven even had corners.

Jack stood up. "Okay, I won't distract you anymore. Good night."

"Night, Dad," Lisa said, slipping her headphones back on.

He kissed her on the top of her head and walked toward the door.

Before closing it, he glanced back at her one more time. Lisa was typing something on her laptop, her head swaying rhythmically to the music. She was alone in her own world—a world where, soon enough, neither he nor Susan would have access. And that was okay. But Jack wished, more than anything, that the moment would never come.

He gently closed the door.