The door downstairs swung open and Brian knew that his dad was home for the day. Brian used to be able to tell that his dad was home before his car got there, either from his loud truck engine or the ‘dog alarm’ his dog erupted into whenever his dad arrived. Both of those were gone now. The dog ran through his days and the truck was replaced with a shiny new one, that somehow even with a larger engine, managed to be infinitely quieter. Now Brian couldn’t tell that his dad was home most days until that door downstairs swung open.

His footsteps traced paths through the house that ended in the sound of a leather chair being filled with a man weary from a long day’s work. Brian’s dad coughed as he sat and seconds later he coughed again. Brian didn’t move from his room. He had that same strange passive-aggressive feeling he always gets when he hears his father coughing.

He wanted to run up to him and yell, “Stop coughing! You know you cough every god damned 10 seconds and there’s absolutely no reason for it. Stop!”

Like almost any other day though, Brian didn’t. He knew that attacking his dad the second he walked in the door for something he does unconsciously would be entirely wrong and out of place. He wasn’t even mad to begin with, it was just one of those little things that always bugged Brian, and he let it build up and get to him every so often. He promised himself that he would never develop any of those annoying habits. He knew that he wasn’t perfect, but he was pretty confident that he was aware enough to notice if he was doing something that generally annoyed other people.

After a short time Brian was fine again. He was watching television in his room, when he heard his dad cough and stand up. His dad shuffled his feet across the carpet and into the kitchen, coughing again as he went.

Brian thought to himself, “Pick up your feet and stop coughing damnit!”

Every so often Brian did explode and it never ended well. Today he just sat in his room, adding yet another small drop to the well of annoyance that he let build inside himself. He thought of his father’s snoring, the shuffling feet, the constant asking of “what” without actually listening for an answer, and of course the coughing. A noise came crashing out of the kitchen as his dad rummaged through the cupboards and Brian decided that he needed to clear his head. The stairs were silent as he snuck down them. He slid past the kitchen, opened the door, and went outside for a walk.

Robert sat in his den playing with his cars. His mother was in the kitchen cooking dinner and Robert couldn’t wait for his father to get home so he could eat. Soon enough, his father’s shiny new company car pulled into the driveway and he walked through the front door. He hung his hat and coat on the rack, slipped into his favorite loafers, and shuffled his feet a bit as he made his way into the kitchen to kiss Robert’s mother. His steps made a quick squeaking sound as he went, which actually helped to correct his gait, but endlessly annoyed his son. Robert gripped his favorite red racecar harder as his father walked by.

Some choice sarcastic words almost slipped from under his breath, but Robert held them, knowing the consequences that would come from crossing his father. He had felt that shiny leather belt before and knew that he wanted no part of it. Still, he couldn’t help but think of his father’s squeaky shoes, his cocktail that turned into cocktails, his open mouthed chewing, and of course his snores heard around the world. Robert smashed his cars together loudly and his mother yelled for him to come wash up for dinner. He made his way to the kitchen, muttering to himself that he would never have any of those annoying habits.

Robert was thinking about this very thing as he arrived home from a long day’s work and wondered what had ever become of his red racecar. He was exhausted from a long day’s work and made his way over to his favorite chair as soon as he walked through the front door. Robert took off his boots and turned on the television. He had grown hard of hearing since his childhood and accordingly turned the volume up from where the previous viewer had set it. He turned to see if his son had come out to greet him and wondered if Brian had even heard him walk through the door. He figured Brian would hear him downstairs soon enough and went into the kitchen for a snack before dinner.

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Filed under: Fiction by Cory