Oliver Ausman Lives Again

twenty one

The janitor lets the mop fall and starts to head over, plucking his earbuds from his ears and tucking them into his collar. I let out a sigh, and notice that my breath isn't shaking the way it was just seconds ago. My nerves have already disappeared-- this is, I can say with almost a hundred percent certainty, not Isaac. Unless I'm some sort of insane genetic abnormality, then I don't think the black guy walking over could possibly be my father. 

I shove my hands in my pockets and try not to mope as he unlocks the door. Be optimistic, I tell myself. Maybe they swapped shifts. Maybe my dad called in sick, maybe he's in the bathroom, or on a break. 

I roll my eyes, too cynical to stand my own delusions. If I'm fooling myself, then hell, maybe I am some sort of insane genetic abnormality. It seems just as likely. 

My spiral of negative thinking is interrupted when the man pulls the door open, letting the smell of chlorine and bleach seep out into the hall. He looks at me expectantly, speaking before I can think of what to say. "You need something?" 

"Uh, yeah, sorry." I have to crane my neck just to look him in the eyes-- if the skin color wasn't such a dead giveaway, the obviously un-inherited height would've been hint enough. "I'm looking for Isaac?"

He raises a shoulder. "You found him."

My stomach sinks as I'm forced to accept the obvious truth I'd been dancing around. "You're Isaac?"

He nods, looking more amused than annoyed. "Yeah. They need me for a spill or something?"

I shake my head, trying to gather my thoughts. "No, no. Uh-- Sorry, I'm looking for a guy named Isaac Ausman."

He makes a face that tells me what I need to know before I can even ask if there's another Isaac who works here. "Sorry kid, Ausman quit. Been gone for... I'd say about five months now."

Five months. If my birthday was in December, I would've caught him. In the big picture of time, we've just barely missed each other. In the smaller picture of my life, I've driven for eight hours, endangered Charlie, pissed off my mom beyond what I knew possible, and exposed myself to a lifetime's worth of anxiety all to meet a guy who isn't even here. I don't know which viewpoint makes me angrier.

"Oh," I manage. I have to convince myself it isn't over yet. Sure, it's a big city, but how far could he have gotten? "Do you know anything about where he is now?"

"I barely knew the guy. I think Lester was the one guy here he really talked to-- he should be at the front desk tomorrow morning. Usually clocks in when I'm clocking out around six."

I thank him and apologize again before heading back to the elevator in a daze. Just like earlier, I feel stupid for ever thinking this would work out. My body slumps against the wall as the doors close, leaving me alone with my thoughts as it travels back to the fifty-fifth floor.