by Abe Moss
“Maybe. I don’t think I was wrong to be nervous, but it certainly didn’t prepare me for anything.”
“Do you want to talk about it? Only if you want to…”
“He just asked me about the tub, and I told him most of what I told you. Then he asked about other things. I’m not really in the mood to repeat everything, if that’s okay…”
“Oh, of course. I understand. I’m just glad it went okay. Mostly because I’m nervous about my turn.”
“What do you think you’ll see?”
“There might be plenty of things. Or maybe nothing. Nuala did say it could be something abstract like a nightmare.”
“Which would you rather?”
“I’d rather not get in the tub at all, but I know I will.” She thought for a minute. She considered telling Bud about her mother, about her last night with her, but decided against it. “Maybe I just want to get it over with. I don’t know.”
They sat together quietly for a while longer until the fire started dying down, despite Bud being the first to announce how tired he was. Then, when the fire was just embers, they said their goodnights and left for bed.
Chapter Sixteen
It was cooler than it’d been on Bud’s day, and the others felt lucky to stand under some shade while they watched Joanna soak. A straight white blanket of clouds fanned over the sky and left the valley in muted shades of green.
Joanna undressed behind Nuala’s suspended towel just as Bud had done and hurried into the tub with a messy splash. It came as a surprise to all of them that she would be the second to jump in, and without too much fuss. She’d been pulled aside that morning by Nuala and they spoke for a short while. What they spoke about, no one knew but them.
Nuala set the towel aside and joined the others in watching.
“How did you get her to agree?” Addie asked quietly.
Nuala pretended not to hear.
Joanna relaxed, head back, eyes closed.
The shift occurred much faster in her than Bud. She went from straight-faced to trembling in less than a dozen seconds, and after another ten she was blubbering. Addie looked around at the others, saw they were all as astonished as she was. Bud likely only now realized what the others must have seen when he’d gone in and felt all the more embarrassed by it. Addie only felt all the more nervous for seeing it. Two people had gone in now, and both of them unraveled. What kind of wreck would it reveal her to be? Was it possible they saw anything worse than what she might see?
Then Joanna let loose screaming. Addie flinched. Her skin pricked with cold chills. She turned to Nuala for assurance, but Nuala only watched steadily, like it was an expected part of the program. Still screaming, Joanna searched her naked chest up to her throat, her shoulders, hugging herself. In the back of her gaping mouth her teeth shown to their very last, white and round, and at the pitch she screamed it seemed they might shatter. Addie’s eardrums panged. Joanna slapped the rim of the tub. She turned over. Water sloshed out. Bellowing like a banshee, she pulled herself out in a naked heap in the grass.
“I could have done without seeing that,” Lyle remarked.
Her eyes were open and she peered around herself in terror, like she didn’t know where she was or who the people staring were. Nuala went to her and Addie took a step toward them both, the need to somehow help overwhelming.
“Is she okay?”
Nuala grabbed the towel and draped it over her. She bent and whispered into her ear, rubbed the towel to help dry her off. Whatever she whispered, Joanna nodded in understanding, the tears still flowing. She got to her feet. Once she was dried, Nuala took the towel and held it out so she could put her clothes back on.
“Let’s head back…” Nuala said, leading her toward the property, arm around her shoulders.
The others followed. They kept a comfortable distance behind them.
“I might have nightmares tonight,” Lyle said, amused.
Bud frowned. “Keep being a prick if it makes you worry less.”
“Huh?”
Bud hurried ahead, fists balled.
“He knows this is Joanna we’re talking about, right? What did he mean by that?”
“I think you’re easier to read than you’d like to be,” Addie said.
“How so?”
“Well… you’re like Joanna in a way, wearing a false exterior. It’s okay to be nervous without putting other people down.”
Lyle cocked his head back. “I don’t think you’ve read me right at all.”
Addie shrugged.
✽✽✽
After returning to the guesthouse, Nuala sat Joanna on the couch and left. Joanna was mostly unresponsive after that, eyes boring holes into different corners of the room. After twenty minutes or so, Addie decided to give her some company on the couch.
“You okay?”
“I don’t know.”
“You want to talk about it?”
Joanna blinked.
“I don’t know.”
Guilt, once again, was spreading quick as fire. She’d helped convince Joanna that it’d be okay, after all. She never expected a reaction like the one she saw. Must have seen something truly nightmarish, she thought…
At last Nuala returned.
“Joanna, the doctor would like to see you now if you’re up for it.”
“Already?” she asked dreamily.
“Only if you’re up for it.”
Joanna tiredly searched her empty lap as if she’d set something there she didn’t want to forget.
“You all right to follow me over?”
Joanna stood and together she and Nuala departed for the doctor’s.
“I’ll be back,” Nuala said to the others, and closed the door behind them.
Addie, Bud, and Lyle stayed in the foyer together.
“I hope she feels better after visiting the doctor…” Addie said.
Lyle gave her a funny look. “I thought you didn’t like Joanna.”
“I never said that.”
“No, but it seemed obvious.”
“She can be hard to be around, for sure. But that’s only because I don’t know her. She’s not the person she pretends to be.”
“And where are you pulling this from?”
“I can just tell.”
“Hmm.”
“Not to mention she’s only sixteen,” Bud chimed in. “I’m only three years older, but it’s still a pretty big difference.”
“Her being younger than the rest of us could even help explain it, like she feels the need to assert herself or something.”
Lyle looked between them with an expression of melded disgust and incredulity. Addie laughed.
“For someone who preaches a lack of choice in character, you’re not very understanding.”
“That’s just my character.” Lyle grinned.
“Are you afraid of getting in?” Bud asked him. “In the tub, I mean.”
“No. What should I be afraid of?”
“You aren’t nervous at all about what you’ll see?”
“I don’t really care too much, to be honest.”
It didn’t sound like honesty to Addie.
“So you’ll go next, then?” Bud smiled, scanning Lyle’s expression very carefully, like trying to catch the moment a clock’s minute rolls over in the dark.
Lyle shrugged. “Sure. Why not.”
For whatever reason Addie’s heart began beating hard in her chest. If Lyle went next, she would be last. She wasn’t sure if this was relieving, having longer before her turn came along, or if she was disappointed in not being able to get it over with—an idea she’d been warming up to.
✽✽✽
The door opened and Nuala entered. Her face was bright and pleased. She shut the door behind her.
“You were gone a while,” Addie said. “How is she?”
“She’s very well.” The pleased expression Nuala wore bordered smugness. “I had to stay and observe for a time. Couldn’t help myself.”
“Where is she?”
“She’s coming. The doctor is giving her some last words of advice, is all.”
The three of them exchanged troubled looks.
But soon the door opened and Joanna was there. The first thing Addie noticed wasn’t what she held cradled in her arms. She barely noticed that at all until someone else made note of it. No, what Addie noticed first was the warm glow about her face—something new. It was unreal, she thought. If she’d been shown images of Joanna, shortly before the doctor’s visit and shortly after, she’d have thought she were looking at an ageless lifetime gone by. Whereas Joanna had been sullen and weary, caving into her dark thoughts—something Addie empathized all too well—now she had the look of a pampered lovebird about her, a radiance that made it so obvious that she wasn’t merely a sixteen-year-old girl… she was a kind and loving cherub to her melting core.
“Is that a dog?” Bud asked.
Addie focused on the thing in Joanna’s arms. It was furry and brown, covered in thick, soft curls. Peeping from its little smudge of a face were two beady little black eyes and a wet, twitching nose below them. It was indeed a small dog. Joanna couldn’t take her eyes off it.
“What is this?” Lyle asked. “The doctor’s handing out therapy pets now?”
“He’s not just a pet,” Joanna said sternly, though the smile on her face never faltered. “His name is Meatball.”
“Meatball!?”
They stood and watched her quietly. Lyle looked pained, as though the dog insulted him directly. Addie thought she might understand his reaction. It was a little forced, after all, she thought. It seemed more like bribery than therapy. Unless there was more to the dog besides providing Joanna with some kind of emotional distraction, it seemed a cheap way to treat her. But then again, Addie wasn’t a doctor or a therapist. What did she know?
“Do we have to live with that thing?” Lyle asked.
“Oh, come on,” Bud said. He was smiling like a little boy on Christmas morning. Between his and Lyle’s vastly different takes, Addie felt she fell somewhere in between, leaning closer to Lyle’s apprehension. “It’s just a puppy. It’ll be nice having something else to play with during the day besides a box full of books and the scenery outside…”
“I’m not playing with it,” Lyle said, and he turned his attention to the fireplace.
“Can I pet him?”
Bud looked eagerly between Joanna and the dog in her arms, his eyes pleading. Joanna for the life of her could not shake her adoring grin, and she nodded to permit him. Addie watched them distantly, watched the dog and how it licked at Bud’s scratching hands. She could admit it was cute, but a familiar wave of uneasiness was washing over her, a feeling she had learned well upon arriving at the guesthouse several days prior, a feeling she thought she’d shaken until now.
“Is something the matter?” Nuala whispered in Addie’s ear, standing beside her. “You don’t seem too happy about it.”
“It’s…” She watched as Joanna and Bud shared a laugh, the first time she thought she’d seen Joanna lay friendly eyes upon him, and shivered. “It just feels a little strange.”
“What does?”
“The speed of it.”
Nuala joined her in watching them for a moment.
“What about it seems strange to you?”
“I’ve never seen her like this, and she was at her lowest point less than an hour ago last I saw her. Now she’s… totally different.”
“Hmmm…” Nuala’s breath was hot and fragrant as her lips hummed secretly next to Addie’s face. “That dog must be very special to her, then. Wouldn’t you say?”
And with that Nuala joined Bud and Joanna in showering the dog with gentle love and the dog couldn’t have been more satisfied by it. Its pink tongue appeared below its little black-button nose, panting as they petted.
Meatball, Addie thought. Perhaps an obvious name, given its tiny stature and the mindless look about it. Just a ball of cute, furry meat. She wondered if that was how Joanna decided on it… or if maybe the name had been inspired elsewhere.
Chapter Seventeen
A storm came. Dark and wet. It poured into their valley on the tail end of a week’s worth of wind—a patchwork of thick, clumpy rainclouds. The sunlight tried its damnedest to stay grounded, but the storm pulled it kicking and screaming into the sky and sealed them down below in a dome of pattering glass and gloom.
It was the storm’s thunder that awoke Addie that morning. She was the last to rise. She sat up in bed and listened to the drops on the roof, plinking against the window. She climbed to her knees, peered out. The rain was thin but constant, the grass in the fields squashed low by the weight of it. For a brief moment she thought she saw something in the distance, a bright shape in the grass a ways off. She squinted. Eyes blurry from sleep and mucus, she rubbed them and blinked and looked again. But there was nothing.
She found the others gathered in the foyer, watching puddles gather outside in the yard, watching the hard dirt turn to dimpled mud. She sat and watched it with them.
Joanna was curled on one of the sofas with the dog in her lap. It was her dog, she made very clear without needing to say so. Since she’d been given the dog, Addie and the others felt something missing from the house that had been there all along before. It’d been extinguished like a flame, with its oxygen pulled out as if through a straw, and after a few days it dawned on Addie that it was Joanna who had fed it. She was no longer hostile, no longer as guarded as she’d been. Her attention was on the dog now. Everything else, for her at least, was temporarily forgotten.
“Why’d you name it Meatball?” Lyle asked.
He’d tried numerous times to get a rise out of her since her visit with the doctor, but nothing had any effect. In fact, Joanna didn’t pay him any attention at all, like his words were muted to her ears.
“I love this,” Bud said, sitting at the window. “I wish it would rain like this for days.”
And it did. It rained all through the day, the night, and only thickened the following day. The storm had a charm to it at first, summoned a childhood wonder in them as they sat in the warmth of the fireplace listening to the tiny fists on the roof, the wooden sigh against the wind. If Addie had the courage, she might have openly expressed her desire to build a blanket fort for them all in the foyer. But she thought it likely she was the only one with such thoughts.
Like a little girl—
She shook the voice away. It creeped in every now and then—small and poisonous—although less and less these days. The somber weather made it too easy to let such words back in, she determined. Sitting by the fire, she stood and went to the window, as she’d done off and on all the previous day and again this morning, and distracted herself with the rhythm of the streaming windowpanes.
Think about anything else. Anything else…
“What the…?”
There it was again. In the rain. She thought she’d seen it the previous morning but somehow missed it on second glance, or maybe it’d never been there at all… But here it was now, clear as day in a summer rainstorm.
“Bud, look.”
Bud was reclined behind her on the sofa. He opened his eyes and craned his neck to see her.
“Look at what?”
“Just come look, quick.”
She didn’t take her eyes away in fear it would be gone somehow when she brought them back, although she couldn’t explain how it had gotten where it was in the first place let alone disappear in the blink of an eye.
Bud came to kneel at the window with her.
“What am I looking at?”
“There, over by the truck.”
Bud looked… and looked… and shook his head.
“I don’t see anything.”
Addie scoffed and turned to him, made sure he was even looking in the right direction, and she pointed with her finger before his face to better direct him.
“To the left of the truck at the edge of the field t
here. Don’t you see it?”
“See what? Just tell me what I’m looking for.”
It was unmissable. A spotlight of sunshine couldn’t emphasize it much better, she thought. Either he was blind or he had to be messing with her. Unless…
“Oh.” She sagged her shoulders, a sign of disappointment. “It’s gone now.”
“What was it?”
“It was just… I thought it was a cat, but maybe it was a raccoon or something. An animal, I guess…”
“Oh.”
“It must have gone into the grass or behind the house. Never mind.”
She swallowed, watched Bud get to his feet and return to the couch. He gave her a funny look over his shoulder and she shrugged.
Only it wasn’t gone. She could see it just as before. Glistening and white and slippery and smooth. She squeezed her eyes shut and willed it to be gone when she opened them, but it wasn’t. It sat there in the mud like the animal it was, spotting her in the window just as she had spotted it in the yard, daring her to come outside for a dip in its wet remembrances…
She left the window, chose the fire as a more suitable spot for relaxing instead.
✽✽✽
Using the outhouse was tricky in a downpour. As a cat might hunch its body while it darts from cover to cover to avoid the wet, Addie did the same from the guesthouse to the outhouse door, only she wasn’t as agile. Nearly there, her foot squelched into a rather soft bubble of mud and shot out from under her and she fell flat on her back with a sticky slap.
“Oh, fuck me…”
She climbed up, held her arms out from her sides as they dripped.
White t-shirts were absolutely the best choice here…
She stomped her way to the outhouse door. She looked over her shoulder as she went inside, prayed no one saw her defeat at the hands of gravity. Joanna would never let her forget it…
She locked the door, pulled down her shorts in near-pitch-black darkness, and got comfortable. The rain played a droning tune over her head.
There was a small knothole in the outhouse door about eye level, slightly lower. It might have been the only source of light inside, and not really much at that. With literally nothing else to look at besides the dark, she stared into it as she carried on with her business. The dull gray light coming through seemed to brighten the longer she stared, not blinking, while the darkness in her peripherals swelled and churned. She shivered.
