Bathwater Blues: A Novel
Page 42
“Addie?” a voice cracked.
The instant she heard it, her legs nearly gave. She trembled. There was still an ounce of doubt in her mind, but her hope far outweighed it.
“Bud?”
He stepped over the curb, across the grass. When he reached the walkway, the light bathed him fully and she saw it was really him.
“Oh my god.”
She couldn’t help it. Luckily neither could he. They hurried toward one another, threw their arms around each other’s middles. Addie squeezed him tight, and suddenly, feeling as though she were back at the doctor’s, she flinched away, loosened her arms around him.
“Are you okay?” she asked, remembering his injuries. “Are you…”
“I’m fine,” he said.
He stepped back and she took a good look at him. His color was much better than the last time she’d seen him. There weren’t any bruises or cuts to be seen on his face. He appeared generally healthy.
“What happened to you? I couldn’t find you. I thought you were dead.”
“I thought you were dead.”
“I searched for you. A lot. Well, as much as I could. I didn’t think I would ever see you again.”
Tears had sprung to his eyes and he wiped them away before they could spill. He smiled, laughed. She did the same.
“Here, let’s sit down,” she said, and they took their seats on the bench. Once they were comfortable side by side, she asked him again. “What happened to you?”
“I don’t remember entirely, to be honest. The last thing I remember with you was being at the pond that night with the doctor. I think I attacked him. That’s the last I remember for sure.”
He wouldn’t remember my father, she thought. He wouldn’t remember the destruction, or the stars, He wasn’t awake for it.
“We escaped together,” she said, and didn’t feel like elaborating much on that yet. Later, maybe. Not now. “When I escaped, though, you weren’t with me. Where did you end up?”
“In the hospital. I woke up and my mom was there. Police were there shortly after, too. They asked me what happened and I told them I didn’t know for sure. I told them I couldn’t remember. I thought they’d think I was crazy if I told the truth.”
Addie nodded, knowing the feeling.
“They told me I’d been attacked. The doctor told them it appeared as though I’d been… raped.” Addie had only seen the blood, but she knew it was the truth. She wished in that moment she could hold him, and tell him just how strong he’d been. “They asked me questions about who attacked me and I just kept telling them I didn’t remember, that maybe I was drugged. They wanted to know what I last remembered and I just told them I’d gone to a club. It wasn’t the biggest lie…”
“I’m so sorry, Bud. I wish I could have done something…”
“I know.”
“What happened then? What did your mom say?”
“She was the only one who would see me in the hospital. My brother and my dad wouldn’t. She just kept apologizing on their behalf, but I wasn’t interested. I just wanted to get out of there. I wanted to go back to my life and move on from them. I felt crazy enough as it was. Part of me thought maybe I had been drugged and raped, and everything else was just a dream. But I know dreams don’t leave you with so many memories. I remember everything about that place.” He paused, looked Addie over with disbelieving eyes. “I’m still so glad to see you again, though. Not just for seeing you, but to know I’m not crazy after all.”
He asked about her then and she told him. As she did, she realized she’d never told him her story, about her mother that fateful night in the bathtub and all the rest. She told him everything then. He listened.
“That’s awful,” he said. “I can’t believe that, Addie. I’m so sorry.”
She felt guilty that she’d never shared her story with him, when he was the person she found herself closest to in all the struggles they endured at the doctor’s hands. But there was a reason for that. She’d missed her opportunity. She’d abandoned him, she remembered. When he needed her most. She chose Lyle instead, leaving him all alone…
“It’s nothing, Addie. Really.” He took her hands in his. “You and I were both desperate for the same thing. I don’t blame you for trying to get it from Lyle. And no matter what he did, he was hurting the same as us, I’m sure.”
Addie was filled with admiration for Bud then. She was finding forgiveness much harder to swallow than he appeared to be. But then again, words were easy. She knew that.
“How did you find me?” she finally asked. She pulled the letter out from her pocket. She unfolded it and showed him. He looked it over.
“I didn’t.”
He handed the letter back to her, and then fished out a letter of his own from his pocket. She took it from him and read it. It was nearly identical.
“Do you think…” he started to say.
“I don’t know how it’s possible. We both saw her in the basement. You killed her. And later, when you were out, I saw the whole house collapse. There’s no way.”
They put the letters together beside them and sat quietly for a while longer.
“What are your plans now?” Bud asked.
She didn’t answer right away. “I don’t know. Nothing much.” She looked at her car in the street, the same junk pile she’d been driving for years. She stared long and hard at it, not for any particular reason, only that her eyes were drawn to it while she thought. “I’m just going to live. See what happens, I guess. You?”
He thought about it too, but not for very long. “I figure I’ll do the same.”
It was getting late, and her eyes were getting tired, but she felt she never wanted to leave the bench. She wanted to sit with him forever if she could, and feel that warmth endlessly. She hoped he felt it too. What was it? she wondered. Something good. Something pure. Something true. Something precious.
Just then there was a sound, a rustle and scrape, and it sounded as though it came from right above their heads. Addie looked up, the sky washed out in the light of the lamppost, and saw nothing. Except…
Something drifted down to them from the edge of the roof, thin and jagged and soft, swishing back and forth as it tumbled from the night. Bud saw it as soon as she did, and he reached for it, plucked it out of the air. He held it in his palm. They both looked at it. They peered above them once more, searched the sky and still saw nothing. When they looked at each other again, saw the fear in their eyes, the bewilderment, they realized their fear was for naught and all at once their expressions changed. They smiled at one another.
Everyone does their best, she thought.
She closed her hand over his, felt the black feather pressed between them.
Even those we call monsters.
A SPECIAL THANKS
Dear brave, adventurous reader,
I must say thank you. Without readers like you, authors like me wouldn’t be allowed a paddle in this violent, ever-changing sea—otherwise known as the publishing world.
I was just a scrawny eighteen-year-old when I wrote my first novel, The Writhing. A bit nervous and unsure of myself, I held onto it for TEN YEARS, writing a couple more novels in the meantime which I was equally unsure about. It took me a decade to realize my stories weren’t doing anyone any good just sitting on my laptop, and in 2019 I decided it was finally time to take the plunge. All I can say now is thank you. I only write this disturbing filth with the utmost love and sincerity. To be granted your curiosity means more than you can ever know. You are truly the best.
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MORE DISTURBING FILTH BY ABE MOSS
THE WRITHING
BATHWATER BLUES
BY THE LIGHT OF HIS LANTERN
LITTLE EMMETT
UNDER THE WICKED MOON
GILLS
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