Bathwater Blues: A Novel

by Abe Moss

  “Lyle, I have no idea what—”

  “A face only a mother could love, they say. Except not even that…”

  “Lyle…”

  Her words had no impact and before she could stand to follow him, he disappeared into the hall. She went to the doorway and listened. Thunder broke the skies again.

  She looked on into the darkness and never felt more confused.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The storm thinned over the next day or two until the sky was mostly back to its bright summer glory. The days were cooler, though.

  Lyle was different, and not back to his usual sulking, cynical way. He stayed part of the group, interacted with them even more than normal. He spoke to Addie like nothing ever happened. He was nearly too detached in his manner, even, as though they were coworkers at the office rather than two people living alongside each other. Part of her still wanted it. When she looked at him, saw how effortlessly handsome he was (to her at least—she couldn’t very well speak for everyone, but she thought most would agree) she wanted more than anything to heal whatever chasm had opened between them. When he looked at her now, eyes empty of any knowledge or desire, her heart dropped. She thought maybe he did it on purpose. Playing hard to get, or something childish like that. Or maybe she was the one being childish. Maybe she’d invented something that didn’t exist inside her head. It wouldn’t be the first time. Her mother would happily remind her of that.

  But it did happen, she told herself. He came to me…

  Meanwhile, Joanna never seemed happier at the guesthouse. The dog was her world. It was like the others might not have existed as far as she was concerned. And the dog had a similar effect on Bud. It was only when he shared in playing with the dog that he seemed aware of the moment he was in. Otherwise he appeared removed. Addie found herself repeating things when they spoke, like he was always taken in thought by something else. He’d been to the doctor’s twice more since the first visit, always talking. When Addie asked him what about, he continually gave her the same vague answer: “Just my life.” Perhaps the doctor’s talks stirred up painful memories, things he couldn’t help dwelling on outside their meetings. She’d often heard people say that talking about your problems helps, but she wasn’t so sure. She’d just as soon forget her past altogether. Let those problems fester, if that’s what they wanted to do, just so long as she didn’t have to know about it.

  As far as more immediate problems went, however, sometimes she couldn’t help needing to tell someone.

  “I want to see the doctor,” she told Nuala one afternoon. “I know he sends letters or whatever when he wants to see us, but I need to see him now.”

  “What about?” Nuala asked. She was preparing them lunch, something she did less and less as the days went on, choosing more often than not lately to leave them to fix meals themselves with food and kitchen equipment they could be trusted with.

  Addie paused. “I want to talk to him.”

  “What about?”

  “To him, not you. No offense.”

  “The doctor is busy, he can’t just make time whenever you need it.”

  Busy with what? Addie wanted to say. Being secluded in the middle of nowhere with just a typewriter and a toilet couldn’t possibly take up too much of one’s time.

  “It takes a lot of careful thought and time to tailor a person’s treatment in a delicate, personal manner. And the doctor is old and tired. He knows when he’s needed most. Otherwise, it’s best to let him focus on the things he knows need his attention.”

  “Fine.”

  “But you can always talk to me. That’s what I’m here for.”

  Addie was reluctant to settle on Nuala’s attention, but she took a seat at the kitchen counter anyway, thinking her words over carefully.

  “I think something’s wrong with me.”

  “I thought this would be something new.” She smiled playfully. “Kidding. I’ve noticed you seem more on edge than normal lately. What’s bothering you?”

  She hesitated. She’d sound crazy, but then again that was why she was here, wasn’t it? Nuala had probably seen it all by now.

  “I’m seeing things I don’t think are there. It’s like I’m dreaming but I’m not. I’m seeing things I should only be seeing in dreams. Or nightmares.”

  “Hallucinations, you mean?”

  She gulped. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “What are they?”

  “Well, I…” She paused. “I don’t want to go into that much detail. All I know is the others aren’t seeing the same things. I see them like anything else, like I see you right now, or this countertop. But…”

  “It would help me understand better if you told me exactly what you saw.”

  “Do you already know?”

  Nuala shook her head confusedly, and it seemed to Addie a true response.

  “Sorry… it’s just you sometimes seem like you must be a mind reader or something…”

  Addie turned toward the window behind her in the foyer looking out into the yard, but she couldn’t see anything from where she sat.

  “I could swear I’ve seen that bathtub,” she said. “I’ve seen it all over the property, like it moves on its own. I know that’s impossible…”

  “Addie.” Nuala looked upon her with sweet, admiring eyes. “Impossible? Haven’t you seen enough by now?”

  It was something she’d told herself plenty.

  “So what am I seeing, then? If the others aren’t…”

  “I think it’s calling to you. Or maybe you’re calling to it. Maybe both.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Do you feel ready to take your turn?”

  “Not at all,” she answered without hesitation. “I think I’m more scared of it than I could admit before.”

  “Do you know why you’re scared of it?”

  “I’m afraid I’ll see something I don’t want to.”

  “What are you afraid to see?”

  Addie wondered that a bit herself.

  “Maybe there’s something you’re hiding from yourself.”

  Addie regarded Nuala with pure helplessness, but Nuala was casually stirring something in a bowl, as though their conversation was just in passing, routine, nothing too important. And maybe it wasn’t.

  However, Addie feared she might be right.

  ✽✽✽

  “I guess you’re going next, then?”

  Lyle looked uninterested. “Yeah, I guess.”

  He was on the couch and Addie stood next to him wringing her hands.

  “You must be a little nervous.”

  “No, not really.”

  “How?”

  “If it doesn’t kill me, I figure I’ll survive. I’ll be sitting in a bathtub, after all, not a meat grinder.”

  “But you’ve seen Joanna and Bud. You don’t think you’ll have a similar reaction?”

  “No offense to Bud or Joanna, but I think I’m in a more stable place up here…” He jabbed at his temple. “My world’s not going to fall apart because I have a bad dream…”

  Addie cocked her head. “Is that directed at me?”

  “Huh? No.”

  “Do you think I’m unstable?”

  He laughed, eyebrows raised.

  “If being mentally stable includes talking to yourself late at night and hiding under your bed from something that isn’t there, I guess you’re A-OK.”

  She knew what it was about. He was upset about the other night. Well, she thought, if this was how he needed to cope, then so be it.

  Not indulging his argumentative sweet tooth, she quietly left outside, and wished she could have looked back as she left just to see the look of wasted steam in his eyes. But even from that she wouldn’t have derived much satisfaction.

  She would have liked not having fought with him at all.

  ✽✽✽

  The bathtub was just as it’d always been when they journeyed across the field toward the pond. Addie studied the ground around it, lo
oking for prints in the dirt as evidence of its wandering, but the dirt was smooth. Surely the rain had covered it up, she thought. Surely.

  Joanna set Meatball down and he sniffed at the ground around the tub and the tub itself and thought nothing of it. When he wandered toward the pond, Bud expressed concern. Joanna called for him.

  “Come here Meatball! The water’s dangerous.”

  Whether Meatball understood or not, he obeyed and sniffed around their feet instead.

  Nuala unfolded the large towel in her arms but before she could get it ready Lyle stripped his clothes and nonchalantly stepped into the bath, giving the others an unexpected eyeful.

  Joanna gasped.

  Bud looked away uncomfortably.

  Addie smiled.

  Nuala dropped the towel at her side. “That works just as well.”

  Lyle settled into the water, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes.

  Minutes passed. There was no talk amongst the others. Meatball barked a couple times and Joanna shushed him. I wish I could get close to him, Addie thought. She laid her eyes on him, intense as the sun, and for a few moments didn’t realize how long she stared. She looked guiltily at the others and found them watching just the same.

  Nothing was happening. A breeze blew. Birds chased each other over the field not too far from them. He sat unchanged, not reacting at all.

  “There’s water in there, right?” Joanna asked.

  A few more minutes. Meatball grew restless waiting for someone to pay him attention and began barking at Joanna and she scooped him into her arms.

  “Is this normal?” Addie asked.

  “Everyone is different.”

  It must have been ten minutes they waited while Lyle rested comfortably. Once or twice Addie saw a twitch of the nose or a furrow of the brow, but nothing more. She even caught Nuala tilting her head curiously. Joanna stepped closer and stood on tiptoe to check for herself that there was indeed water in the bath.

  “Is something wrong?”

  Then he opened his eyes. He looked down at himself in the tub, turned to look at the rest of them.

  “I’d like to get out now.”

  Nuala held the towel for him while he got out and he dried himself and wrapped the towel around his middle.

  “What was that?” Joanna asked.

  “What was what?”

  “It just… you just… NOTHING HAPPENED!”

  Lyle shrugged.

  “Did it work?” Bud asked. “Did you see anything? Feel anything?”

  “Of course I did. Saw lots of things.”

  He gave them one last look, one that questioned their nervous gazes with amusement, and headed back toward the yard.

  ✽✽✽

  Of course he must have expected them to badger him about it, but it was Addie who went to him first. She thought she’d be more likely to coerce something out of him than the others, given that they’d spoken of personal matters before. But he only grinned at her bitterly.

  “And what’s it to you?”

  “I’m just curious.”

  He was laid back on his bed with a book on his chest. Addie stood in his doorway. When he didn’t respond she entered his room and sat at the end of his bed. He looked her up and down as she sat.

  “And what’s this?”

  “I want you to tell me what you saw.”

  “You heard Nuala. That’s my personal business. It’ll be between me and the doctor. Besides, you’ve got yourself to worry about.”

  “Do you even know what happened while you were in the bathtub?”

  “Joanna said nothing happened. Close to what I expected. I knew I wouldn’t fall apart like they did.”

  “You didn’t fall apart, but I could still tell there was something going on in there.”

  Lyle laughed. “Sounds like I didn’t give too much away.”

  “So you won’t tell anyone?”

  “I don’t hear Bud or Joanna divulging their experiences with the rest of us. There’s no reason I need to.” His accusing eyes narrowed. “Why do you want to know so badly?”

  “I just…”

  In reality she wanted to know if he’d done anything special to dull the bathtub’s power so that perhaps she could do the same. It was only her turn left, after all. The closer the time drew upon her, the more nauseous she felt, like electric wires buzzing to life one by one each time she thought about it. More and more she wanted to avoid it at all cost.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” he said. His face was drawn and cold.

  “What?”

  “I’ll tell you what I saw under one condition.”

  Addie fidgeted. “What?”

  “Come to my room tonight. After everyone else is asleep. Come see me and I’ll tell you everything.”

  ✽✽✽

  Addie’s better sense told her what would likely happen, and a slice of what little pride she had told her not to go. But a larger slice—a heaping wedge—wanted exactly what she thought she’d get.

  So after everyone was in their rooms, hopefully in a deep or new sleep, she stole into the hallway from one end to the other, to Lyle’s door. It was left open just an inch.

  Lyle was sitting on the edge of his bed in the dark, head bent toward the ground. He looked up when she entered. She closed the door behind herself. She stood, anxious, and his silhouette patted the spot on the bed next to himself. She sat.

  “We’ll have to whisper extra quiet,” she said. “Bud’s room is right next to yours.”

  His lips curved up in the dark. “Why is that a reason to whisper?”

  “I don’t want him to hear.”

  “To hear what?”

  She paused. “That I’m in here talking to you. We’re supposed to be asleep.”

  “We’re not supposed to be anything. We can do what we like.”

  Addie nodded. He watched her very closely, not saying anything, and she found it difficult to look at him. She peered around the room instead, at the shadows in the dusty corners, down at the bedsheets between them which were wrinkled and cold.

  “So I’m here,” she finally said. “Like you said. Will you tell me what you saw in the tub, then?”

  He continued staring, scrutinizing her shadowed expression, like she was a puzzle he couldn’t solve. She rubbed her cheek to hide herself, or to maybe distract him from whatever deep thought he was lost in.

  “Do you hate me?” he asked.

  She pulled back, surprised. “Hate you? No, I don’t think so.”

  “Do I disgust you?”

  “Why would you disgust me?”

  “I think everyone here hates me.”

  Addie brought her legs up on the bed and sat cross-legged facing him.

  “I don’t think you give anyone much reason to like you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You admitted it yourself. Even you think you’re an asshole.”

  “Because I figure people are going to hate me anyway.”

  “Why do you assume that?”

  “I don’t know…” He paused. “I think it’s my face…” He rubbed his hands down his cheeks and neck, the sound of skin on skin was loud in the quiet room.

  “How could it be your face?”

  “People look at me and think… I don’t know. I’m unpleasant.”

  Addie straightened. “Maybe it’s your demeanor, but… definitely not your face.”

  Lyle laughed, but it wasn’t his usual, callous laugh. It was awkward and slight, like a boy’s. Addie remembered his remark the other night following her nightmare, about having a ‘face only a mother could love.’ She wondered how heavily this thought weighed upon him.

  “What did you see in the tub? Just tell me.”

  He sighed, disappointed that she hadn’t forgotten her reason for being there.

  “I saw my brother. And my mom and dad.”

  “What about them?”

  “We were having dinner together. They were having a conversation.”
/>
  “About what?”

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that when I joined in the conversation they all turned on me. Like they hadn’t known I was there, and I wasn’t supposed to be.”

  “What does it mean?”

  Lyle shook his head. “I don’t feel like telling you this. It’s not going to help anything and I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

  “You said you’d tell me what you saw.”

  “And I did.”

  “That was all?”

  “Mostly, yeah.” He thought. “Two or three times I interrupted their talking, and the last time I did they just scowled at me for minutes on end. Their faces became angrier and angrier the longer they stared, and everything around me started getting bigger and bigger, like I was shrinking in my seat, and they got taller and taller staring down at me. Like a nightmare, I guess. Nuala said the tub could do that.”

  “And you don’t know what it means?”

  “Well, I mean, sure I probably know what it means. It came from my own head, didn’t it?”

  “So what did it mean?”

  “I don’t want to get into it, I told you.”

  Addie sat a short while, thinking.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” she said.

  Lyle couldn’t resist a smirk. “And what’ll that be?”

  “Tell me the story of your brother and your parents and I’ll let you kiss me.”

  He twitched. The smirk vanished.

  “Ask me specifics, then. I won’t know where to start otherwise.”

  “Okay.” She considered. “Why do you think they scowled at you?”

  “Because they hate me.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “I know it. They hate me because I remind them of something they want to forget.”

  “What is that?”

  “That my mother fucked another man. That her husband isn’t really my dad. My brother is my half-brother. They’re a perfect, normal family aside from my existence and I remind them of everything wrong between them.”

  Addie was speechless. She looked over his faint shadow sitting beside her, from his dark eyes to his nervously pinched mouth, to his hunched shoulders, to his empty hands resting open in his lap. She felt sorry for asking.