Free Fourteen Days by Steven Jenkins

don’t mean me any harm, but you’re scaring the living shit out of me, so could you please leave, and we’ll say no more about it. Okay? Thank you.”
    Waiting for some kind of response, he scanned the room, praying that his request wouldn’t prompt her to appear on the dreaded chair again.
    After several minutes of silence, he nodded and mouthed the words, “Thank you.”
    Satisfied, he left the room.

    Feeling better about his newfound crisis, Richard decided to have a workout. He hadn’t done anything energetic for months that didn’t involve sitting behind a desk, so he told himself that that was all going to change from now on. The doctor had already recommended that he should hit the gym. Nothing too strenuous. Not right now anyway. Just enough to keep things ticking over.
    A new me. A fitter and healthier me. No more lazy-ass. No more couch-potato.
    He hauled Nicky’s exercise bike from out of the garage, dusted it down, and set it up in the living room. He figured that if he could watch TV while training, he would be more likely to stick with it. Putting on one of his South Park DVDs, he mounted the bike saddle and started to pedal. After one episode he had had enough. He climbed off, dragged the bike to the far corner of the living room, trying not to scrape the wooden floor, and collapsed onto the sofa chair with sheer exhaustion. That’s enough for today. I’ll do better tomorrow. Best to start slow. No point rushing it.
    Pulling out one of the blankets from the sideboard, he spread it over the floor. He got on his back and proceeded to do sit-ups, followed by several push-ups. Shattered, feeling his cheeks turn bright red, he crawled over to the couch and climbed on. He lay there for almost an hour, comatose, staring at the TV screen, before mustering the strength to take a shower.
    Exiting the living room, he clambered up the stairs, his thighs aching, heading for the bedroom. Inside, he grabbed a clean set of underwear and made his way over to the bathroom, switching on the shower straightaway. As he waited for the water to heat up, he removed a fresh towel from the cupboard and hooked it next to the shower. Placing his hand in first to check the temperature, he felt the heat against his skin. Satisfied, he hopped into the glass-covered shower, closing the doors behind him.
    As he lathered his body, enjoying the pressured water as it massaged his neck and shoulders, he thought of work. He couldn’t help it. And then it occurred to him—he hadn’t thought about it in a while. Had the idea of having a haunted house been more important to him than running TSH Computers? Or was it his mind pushing it to one side for the sake of his health? For the sake of his sanity? Either way he felt proud of himself for being able to forget about Leah and the cursed website from Hell, and focus on something else. However, finding himself scared witless every time his wife left for work, or when he set foot in the kitchen, was in no way a healthy substitute, regardless of how much it shut out his other problems.
    He wondered if Leah had managed to complete the staff payroll on time without any help, or made sure that Janet had put through last week’s salaries, including overtime. And how successful had the launch of the new website been? Had it crashed on the first day? Had David managed to eliminate all the little bugs? Or had he just crawled under his desk, sobbing, praying that Richard would return soon to sort everything out—yet again.
    Or what if David had permanently replaced him?
    Or worse still, what if Leah had realized that she didn’t need Richard’s help at all?
    Countless scenarios filled his head as he washed his body. Scrubbing his face, he closed his eyes as he faced up toward the showerhead. He could feel the hot water blast against his forehead, over his eyes and mouth, as he continued to agonize over work issues. A few more days to go. Not long now. It’ll fly by. I’ll be back in no time.