Alone Time

     Harrison begrudgingly shut the bedroom door behind him with a sigh. He leaned against the white wood and placed his head in his hands. The air here was less congested than other parts of the farmhouse. One of the sturdy bookshelves in the hallway had fallen over and created a barricade. Not that it was incredibly difficult to surpass- but no one else wanted to take the time to crawl over or under the slant. It provided a small degree of isolation, in his head Harrison compared it to a secret grove. A garden where he could retreat for a few moments and collect himself.

     The room itself was painted a soft white, mirroring the rest of the house. It seemed light and airy; the singular window allowed for a small breeze to enter, making itself known with a slight chill. He watched the thin curtains move back and forth, back and forth, back and forth…

     Another sigh left him as he gathered himself to walk forward. His footsteps were heavy on the cheap laminate. He silently judged the previous homeowners for the tacky floors. It must have been genuine hardwood at some point.

     The closer he came to the window the better he felt. He had always liked fall, and the weather on this day seemed perfect to him: It wasn’t freezing nor was it particularly warm. A slight smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, though it was quickly dropped. As his eyes grazed the environment outside his slightly elevated mood faltered. Outside was a wide swath of wild grass, yellowed and brittle from the oncoming winter. It rattled together in the wind, making a rattling sound. He frowned. It seemed to be mocking him.

     Harrison huffed and pushed the window down. Well, he tried. It proved more difficult than he had anticipated. It made an awful groaning sound- which only pushed him further. He was only able to get it down halfway before he stopped, slightly out of breath from the effort. Anger swelled in his chest; nothing could go right for him these days. He felt he might grab the nearest object and smash the window for the simple transgression of defying his iron will. Though he stopped himself and tried to take deep breaths. He had lots of practice saving face, even if there was no one around to see him. Harrison drew himself up and nodded at the window as if to say ‘Alright, you have won this match’ and began taking off his cardigan. He held it out dramatically and dropped it unceremoniously on the floor. He didn’t know what point he was trying to make, but he figured whatever it was he had made it sufficiently.

     Flopping into the array of sheets on the bed, he stared up at the fan above. The popcorn ceiling looked like a snow-covered plane filled with an uncountable number of hills. He tried to stay optimistic- well whatever Harrison Lawrence’s idea of optimistic was. But it was getting harder and harder. The dream was falling apart. Even in his makeshift nest of sheets and pillows he could feel it. He had cooled off from his incident with the window, but with the release of frustration a new emotion had taken its place. It was cold. He chuckled hoarsely,

     Matches the weather.

     This moment of isolation gave him time to reflect. Harrison didn’t like reflection, it allowed him to see his own flaws. The cracks in his façade grew with the shadows.

     Harrison was an upright boy. A decent and well-mannered man. He did everything correct- it wasn’t always “right” per say, but it was correct. Which is why he never understood why some people didn’t seem to approve as much as he’d like. Even in his own head he avoided expanding upon what “some people” was referring to. Oh, Some People approved. Whether he did the “right thing” was not the problem. Some People didn’t care about what was right. Some People cared about what was correct. Which is why he was mind boggled at the fact that they didn’t care. He did everything correct, regardless of if it was right, so what was the problem? His head hurt from thinking about it too much. Where did his usual composure go?

     Harrison wanted to go home. His heart flitted as he pictured the blank white walls and twisting hallways. It was much larger than the farmhouse, yet it shared some similarities. They were both stark white and accented with wood. They were both removed from other people. They both felt vacant. Maybe someone subsisted there once, but it felt like no one had really lived there. Maybe going back was something he should dread rather than look forward to.

     Harrison’s nose crinkled as he thought of a home that might not be missing him.

     He was tired of reflection.

     The sheets didn’t feel cool anymore. Slowly they had morphed into a warm stifling mess. He dragged his hand across his arm, he felt gross. Gradually he hoisted himself up and out of bed, the lingering feeling of cloth only making things worse. He padded across the floor to the opposite wall. There was another door, this one leading to a small bathroom. He lightly pushed on the door and it swung open. The window didn’t let in too much light from this angle, but it was enough to see decently, and that’s all Harrison needed. He turned the handle on the sink- a fake plastic crystal he could have sworn his grandmother owned- and was disappointed by the result. He wasn’t surprised that nothing worked, but he was still disappointed. He gripped the sides of the white sink.

     “Always white.” He spat.

     Yet again the defiance of an inanimate object had gotten to him. It was stupid but he couldn’t help it. It was stupid but he wouldn’t let it get to him. He readjusted his posture and took a deep breath. He stared at himself in the mirror intently. He looked more tired than usual. He frowned at the dark circles forming under his eyes, currently he had no way of covering that up. He brushed his hair to the side and tried to smile. He strained, it somehow looked more fake than normal.

     It was pathetic, really. Harrison Lawrence was a pillar of perfection. Someone to be envious of, idolized, adored. This was just sad. Some People would never have approved of this.

        With a loud bang he slammed his fists on the counter and flung whatever dusty items were left on the sink onto the ground. He cursed under his breath. It’s not like it mattered anymore. A heavy glass soap bottle landed with a thud on the tile. Harrison glared deeply into his reflection and grabbed the bottle, raising it high. Glass shattered and flew across the bathroom, forcing him to shield his face with his free arm. And in a split second it was over, the glass settled, and the momentary explosion of noise had returned to the sound of silence. lowly he put his arm down, surveying the damage. Remnants of the mirror still clung to the wall, distorted, and fractured.

     He stared into the remains as he came down from his outburst. Panting lightly, he tore his eyes away from the unfortunate display and looked at his hand where he still clutched the bottle. It was broken off into a harsh series of points- jagged peaks of thick green glass. It was almost pretty, but something took him away from the lightly glittering glass. As he began to calm down, he started to realize a series of sharp pains dotting his body. Some of the shards of mirror and glass had splintered outward with enough force to pierce his clothing and pepper his hands. None of the pieces were too large, they hurt yes, but nothing Harrison couldn’t handle. Grimacing he set the bottle down lightly and began to remove the small remains. He had been foolish- Such a childlike tantrum. He was better than that. With renewed conviction he yanked a prominent glass piece out of his hand. He inhaled sharply, but kept his head held high. He was strong, civil, and resolute. He could not be shaken; he could not be stirred!

     Though Harrison “could not be stirred”, he was surprised by a subtle knock at the door. It was so soft he almost missed it. He finished brushing himself off and drew himself up in what was left of the mirror. He slicked his hair and smiled broadly into what was left of his reflection. It faltered only slightly.

     “I’ll be right there.” He was as authoritative as ever.

     Carefully he crept over the broken glass and to the bedroom door. Opening it he saw Sherman standing awkwardly at the entrance. He looked pitiful, huddled like a mouse, and slightly surprised at Harrison’s sudden appearance. He peered up with his glassy eyes, reminiscent of a puppy whose owner had just returned from a long vacation.

     “Sorry to disturb you- I know you don’t like people barging in- I just heard a crash that’s all. Wanted to see if you were ok. I don’t know, I’m just worried about us here, Harrison. I- “

     He yapped like a dog too. Harrison put his hand on Sherman’s shoulder, a sign he’d said too much. He tensed under Harrison’s solid grip, but he didn’t look away. Kept on staring with those puppy dog eyes. Harrison’s lids dropped and he grinned. He spoke like a mother calming down a frightened child:

     “I know this must be a lot for you all right now. Don’t worry. Everything is under control, any time now we shall set off again and go back home. When everything is said and done, we’ll have a funny story to tell the folks at home, won’t we?”

     Sherman looked at the floor. Harrison’s grip remained firm and unfaltering, and eventually Sherman gave in. His shoulders slumped and he looked back down the hallway.

     “I wouldn’t call it a funny story…”

     Harrison ignored his remark and spun him around, clapping him on the back and giving a light chuckle.

     “Well, we wouldn’t want to dwell on the bad now, would we?” He exchanged his diplomatic tone with a livelier one. “Come on Sherm, you’re the one that always looks on the bright side of life!”

     Sherman gave a weak laugh and began to slowly walk back down the hallway.

     “I’ll try my best, Harrison.”

     “Atta boy!”

     His tone was cheerful, but as soon as he had dipped around the corner Harrison’s face fell. He had recovered and restored sufficient faith in his acquaintance. Not a lot, but for the time being he seemed content. But Harrison was tired. Surveying the masses seemed like too much effort. He was still a tad shaken from his little incident, though he did a good job masking it. They seemed fair for the time being. Even sheep couldn’t be watched constantly.

     So, with a deep breath, he swiftly turned and disappeared back into the bright white bedroom.