Bathwater Blues: A Novel

by Abe Moss

  “Joanna,” Addie interrupted. She blinked dumbly, sucked her lips for a moment searching for the right words. “Meatball is dead, then.”

  Joanna’s eyes wandered between Addie and the soft bundle of fur under her arm, confused.

  “He was dead. But the doctor brought him back.”

  “The doctor told you this?”

  “He didn’t have to. This is Meatball.”

  “How can that be if Meatball is dead?”

  “I don’t know, Addie.” There was an angry quaver in her tone. “The doctor’s done plenty other extraordinary things. I don’t see the importance of questioning it.”

  Maybes so, Addie thought. But the very idea still made her uneasy.

  “It doesn’t… frighten you at all? That the doctor can do that?”

  “I don’t know.” Joanna’s face was drawn with obvious impatience. She shrugged. “I’ve talked too much. I never talk this much.”

  Addie shook her head. “That’s okay. I’m glad you could tell me.”

  “What about you? Tell me what you saw in the tub.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. It’s getting late.”

  “Bullshit.” Joanna grinned. “I told you about me. You can’t leave me here so exposed.”

  “Ask me direct questions, then. I don’t know where to start.”

  “I want to know what you saw in the tub!”

  Addie thought about it. “Well… first I saw a house. It was a memory, really. I remembered this house my dad used to take me to. I would go with him, actually. It was for him, not me. I’m pretty sure… well, no, I’m positive it was his drug dealer.”

  Joanna perked up.

  “I went there with him lots of times. His dealer’s name was Danny, I think. Danny had a daughter a few years older than me. My dad would take me there on the pretense that I was Danny’s daughter’s playmate or something. Her name was Sarah. We never really played together. Mostly we just sat together watching TV or I’d play with her toys in her room while she sat in bed watching me or reading a book or something.”

  “This is what you saw in the tub? I was a little jealous watching you take your turn. Like Lyle, you didn’t really cry or anything. You just looked uncomfortable.”

  “There’s more.”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  “Well, I don’t want to go into too much detail. Mostly my dad just kept taking me to this house, and he would get high while Danny’s daughter kept me company, or sometimes Danny kept me company…”

  Addie paused for a minute, feeling her own story’s immensity crashing over her all at once, like new.

  “What happened?”

  “Danny did things to me.”

  Joanna uttered a quiet gasp. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  “It was a long time ago. I thought I’d mostly forgotten about it, but the doctor says otherwise.”

  “Well still. You don’t have to talk about it if it bothers you.”

  “It’s fine.” Addie shifted onto her back, stared at the ceiling and the flames dancing there. “The worst part is that my dad knew. It happened a couple times and I never said anything. I was only a kid. Six or so. But after those first couple times I couldn’t stand it so I told him and… I don’t know. I don’t remember exactly. I think he just assured me Danny was a good guy, that I shouldn’t be afraid of him. I somehow knew what happened wasn’t right, and I was afraid my dad would be upset with me because Danny was his friend and I didn’t want him to be mad at his friend. But then when I did tell him it was like… no big deal. He took me back several more times. And then several more times. For three years, actually. I was nine the last time I saw Danny.”

  Addie didn’t need to turn her head to see Joanna’s expression. She could guess it just fine. She didn’t want to see. She wasn’t speaking to Joanna, after all. She was talking out loud, using the opportunity to tell the story to herself again, sorting through it like the doctor mentioned. The more she talked the less Joanna was even there with her.

  “The worst part of it, now that I’ve remembered it all again, was that my dad did it on purpose. At least I’m mostly sure he did.” She uttered a hollow, unsmiling laugh. “Yeah… he practically sold me to Danny for his drugs.”

  “Oh my God, Addie. That’s—”

  “And I feel bad for Sarah now. There’s no doubt in my mind he did the same to his own daughter. I mean, maybe he didn’t. But I bet he did. He’d do it to me right there in her bedroom at night while we slept. I think she saw us several times. She knew.” She licked her lips and found that her mouth had gone dry. “My mom knew, too. Her and my dad would fight all the time about the drugs, and she always wanted to know why he took me along. She actually told him a few times to leave me out of it, I remember. That had to be, like… the only good thing my mom ever did for me. Or tried to do. But maybe she was just jealous even then. She was always jealous of me spending time with him. She hated me…”

  “How did it stop?”

  “I remember one time my dad was putting me to bed and he just broke down next to me, apologizing over and over and over again. He told me we would never go there again. He’d told me that several other times, too, but that time he meant it. I don’t think he ever stopped going, but he stopped bringing me along. Then eventually it killed him. Four years ago. I was sixteen.”

  Addie turned to look at Joanna then. Joanna was sitting up, Meatball in her lap, petting him absentmindedly. Her eyes were wide and fastened to Addie, like she was an automobile torn to shreds on the side of the interstate.

  “Here I am feeling sorry for myself for not having any friends and my shitty parents taking my dog away and all along you’ve been right here with a secret like that.”

  “You shouldn’t feel that way. Different lives. Like I said, I'd forgotten about most of it until now.”

  “You can’t forget something like that,” Joanna said. “Ever.”

  Addie stretched on the sofa, arms in the air, moaned like the walking dead.

  “That’s what I relived in the tub, anyway. I’m clueless how that’s supposed to be of any help to me now.”

  “Because it’s still haunting you,” Joanna said. Addie turned to see her again and was surprised to see she wasn’t touching Meatball at all. Her hands were flat on her legs, and Meatball licked at them to encourage more petting but she didn’t pay him any attention. “If you weren’t thinking about it, it wasn’t because you’d forgotten. You just didn’t want to remember.”

  ✽✽✽

  “Please…”

  The bed groaned. He held his breath under the weight as the man crawled over him in the dark. He clutched the sheets to himself but it didn’t do any good. They ripped from his hands into the oblivion that was the floor beside his bed, the oblivion where the man returned from every night after sundown.

  First it was fine. Enjoyable, even, despite the soreness of his injuries. The man was gentle and seemed to know exactly what he’d like. He let him do it. All of it. He wanted him. He was a nameless stranger, a handsome face in the firelight, and night after night Bud awaited his return. The sun went down and the lantern on the floor came to life and out from the depths of the barren corners of the room he came, naked as a newborn, handsome as the devil.

  But then it wasn’t so good. It changed. It was different. It was rougher. And it got rougher still. The twinges in his sides, in his ribs, the bruises on his face, they fell away forgotten in the midst of the new pains he learned.

  When Nuala brought him his meals each day he begged her to stop it. She wouldn’t listen. It was what the doctor prescribed, she said. The doctor knew best. He always did.

  “Not tonight. Please. I can’t.”

  The man seized him by the shoulders and flipped him over onto his belly. His ribcage sang out like a tolling bell, hot and piercing. It entered him fully in a single thrust with little warning and he cried out. He couldn’t move. The thrusting quickened, harder and harder, and the only thing that eased the pain was the sweet releas
e of numbness that always followed eventually. He only needed to endure the start. After that he felt nothing at all. Well, save for the warmth down the inside of his thighs, the sensation of his body coming apart at the seams.

  He closed his eyes. He felt a hand press the back of his head into the pillow. The thrusting went on and on. He thought he might pass out, his vision blurred, but he always came back. Sleep was never on his side.

  Something slapped the pillow beside his face and he opened his eyes at the sound, and what he saw sent ice through his blood. He squealed.

  The man’s hand, the wrist above it. Black. Shiny. Scaly. Bud could do nothing. The hand on the back of his head pressed harder, his face sank deeper into the pillow. There was a whisper in his ear, a soft sound of amusement. Something lowered next to his face, another face, black and shiny and scaly as the arm next to it, and it was full of tiny arrowed teeth. They grinned and were no longer handsome.

  Bud’s eyes filled with the orange of the eyes looking back, and finally sleep overcame him. He fainted.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The sky was clear and the sun warmed the dirt under Addie’s feet on her way to the doctor’s. She climbed the porch steps and knocked on the door. Nuala answered.

  “Yes?”

  “I’d like to visit Bud. I need to talk to him.”

  “I’m sorry, Addie, but you can’t. Now isn’t the time.”

  Addie scoffed. “I get keeping him in bed, I guess, but there’s no reason to not allow visitors!”

  “He’s resting.”

  “All day? I doubt it.”

  “The doctor’s given him a specially prepared medicinal sedative to help him rest and heal quicker. The more time we give him now, the sooner he’ll be on his feet.”

  “What kind of medicine?”

  “It’s the doctor’s own.”

  Addie cocked her hip, tapped her foot. She thought carefully.

  “He wanted to speak to me last night, I know he did. I should get to visit him. He wants to see me.”

  “People don’t always want what’s best for them. I’m sorry. The answer is no. I will personally let you know when you can see him again. How about that?”

  Addie left then, grumbling down the porch back to the guesthouse.

  ✽✽✽

  Later in the day Joanna invited Addie outside to play with Meatball in the yard but she refused.

  “Don’t you want to get some fresh air?”

  Addie watched the dog at Joanna’s feet and felt that same shiver through her, though she hid it well enough. She shook her head.

  “No, I’m all right. I just want to stay in today. It’s fine.”

  “Just don’t go crazy,” Joanna said. “I’m starting to feel like I’m the only sane one anymore.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I know you’re not on speaking terms, but have you noticed Lyle at all lately? He doesn’t leave his room.”

  “No surprise. He’s done this before.”

  “I saw him a few times when he left his door open. He just stares into that mirror. I don’t know what he’s doing with it, but…”

  “The doctor gave it to him for a reason, I’m sure. Probably an exercise. It’s none of our business.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  After Joanna left outside, Addie tiptoed quietly into the hall to Lyle’s door. She stood and listened for a few minutes, hearing nothing. When she eventually heard him stir inside she scurried away.

  ✽✽✽

  Addie stayed up much later than Joanna that night. She knew it was no use going to bed when the darkness wouldn’t grant her sleep. So instead she watched the fire for a while. When the flames started to dim, and she found it difficult to keep her thoughts from circling the same nagging memories, she decided she would take a walk outside instead, hoping the physical activity would tire her. She forced herself off the couch with an exhausted sigh. Her knees popped. Sitting around all day was hard on the body, it seemed.

  On her way to the door there was movement behind her. She searched the foyer. It had come from the hall, where there now stood a figure in the doorway. She watched, waited for them to speak up. When they didn’t she turned back around and reached for the front door again.

  “Addie.”

  She paused. Without turning she said, “What is it?”

  “Please talk to me.”

  “I’m really not in the mood.”

  “Please.”

  She touched her hand to the doorknob.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  She opened the door and stepped outside. She tried not to peer into the dark foyer when she closed it behind her without a word.

  Three steps from the porch the door opened behind her and footsteps followed her into the yard. She stopped, shoulders sagging, weary.

  “Won’t you let me just say something?”

  Lyle’s face was chalky in the moonlight. His eyes were dark and baggy. His hair was a mess of matted tangles. His lips were dry and white in their corners. He looked like he’d climbed out of a cave or survived a week alone in the desert. All in all, Addie thought, he looked fucking awful.

  “There’s nothing I want to say to you.”

  “Just listen, then.”

  She waited.

  “I know what I did was wrong. Beyond wrong. I fucked up. I’m fucked up. That’s obvious to everyone, I know. I’m sorry. I can’t take it back. I don’t know why I did it, but—”

  “I know why you did it. Bud’s my friend and you were jealous. It doesn’t take a therapist to realize that. I should have kept my distance. For the thousandth time, I’m an idiot.”

  “No, you’re not. I’m so sorry. If I could go back and—”

  “If you could go back, you’d do it all over again. That’s the truth, isn’t it? That’s what you believe? You can’t change what you’ve done and you can’t truly decide what you’re going to do. And maybe you’re right. Maybe you are who you are and it’s not your fault and it’s not mine. But all the same, I can choose to keep my distance now. I learned my lesson. Maybe bad people have no choice but to be bad people, but I don’t have to feel sorry for them and I don’t need to welcome them into my life, either. I know enough bad people. I’m sorry you’re one of them.”

  “That’s not who I am, Addie. Please.”

  She laughed. He shrank at the sound.

  “I don’t care who you are. I want you to leave me alone from now on. I’m done with you.”

  “I care about you.”

  “You don’t even know me. And I don’t feel anything for you at all. Disgusted, that’s it. Nothing will change that. Go back to bed.”

  She turned away once more and started off toward the water pump. She didn’t look back until she heard the front door to the guesthouse shut again, and she was relieved that he was gone.

  After taking a small drink from the pump she sat on the front porch a while, watching the black, empty sky, eyeing the bristly fields around her and the unknown shadows therein.

  I’m doing the right thing.

  She stared down at her toes on the cool steps, browned by the dirt and the sun. She wiggled them and they sounded dry like paper.

  Not everyone who does something bad is bad. Just confused sometimes.

  Eventually there was noise from inside. Loud, heavy thumps. She straightened as they approached the door, and flinched when the door flung open. Joanna stood in the doorway, and for a brief instant, before she noticed Addie sitting below her on the steps, she stared out into the night with eyes like an animal bathed in a car’s headlights.

  “What is it?”

  “Something’s wrong.”

  “With what?”

  “I can hear something in Lyle’s room. At first he was talking to himself, and then I heard glass break. I listened by the wall and heard something weird, and I went to his door and called for him and he didn’t answer. I’m afraid to go in.”

  Addie followed Joanna thro
ugh the foyer into the hall. Together they stood outside his room in the dark. Addie knocked.

  “Lyle? What are you doing?”

  There wasn’t an answer.

  “I bet he’s gone again,” Joanna said, her voice almost hopeful. “Broke his window.”

  “He could have used the front door if he wanted to leave.”

  Heart thudding, Addie opened the door inch by inch. The widening slit revealed nothing at first. It passed along his empty bed, sheets crumpled at the end, and then a few feet beyond the bed something caught Addie’s eye.

  “Lyle?”

  He was crouched on the floor. A smatter of broken glass lay under his form, bright glossy shards in the dark, and something wet trickled over them, drip by drip, and Addie felt her own blood drain from her face and neck when it occurred to her what it was.

  “Lyle!”

  She took one step into the room and he turned toward her, a hook of mirror’s glass clenched in his fist, winking silver by the light through the window.

  Joanna whimpered and fled into the hall.

  “Lyle…”

  He held the glass up.

  “This is what they want from me.”

  She heard the words, but there was nothing there to show her where they’d come from. A curtain of blood masked his lips. His eyes blinked slowly, filled with the very same blood. A deep, black groove traced the borders of his face, from one temple across his forehead to the next, and the blood flowed like a fountain.

  “Oh my God, what did you do?”

  “It’s the only thing I can do.”

  He felt along his face, fingers swimming through the current, and he sunk their tips into the open wound beneath his hairline. Addie screamed. She rushed toward him and hesitated, hands out, but couldn’t bring herself to touch him.

  With his own flesh in his hands, he pulled.