Bathwater Blues: A Novel

by Abe Moss

  As she sat waiting for Joanna’s return, she eyed the kitchen table where the keys were currently hidden. She’d found fairly early on an inner shelf of sorts all the way around the table’s underside, the table quite hollow despite its thick appearance otherwise. She placed the keys up on this shelf, hoping they’d stay put and not slip out due to vibrations around the table. They’d only be there a little while, after all. Then she’d move them again.

  It was late when Joanna returned. She came in, set Meatball down, shut the door, and fell back against it with a sigh.

  “What happened?”

  She peeled herself from the door and joined Addie on the couch.

  “He wanted to know how I was feeling. He hoped I had questions for him… which I did.”

  “What did you ask?”

  “I asked him about Meatball.”

  Addie straightened a little. “Oh. Like what?”

  “Well, I’ve been thinking about it a lot, actually. I asked him how Meatball was here, when I knew he’d been dead.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Vague bullshit. He said he was here because I needed him. I asked him how, though. I asked him, ‘This is really him, isn’t it?’ and he said of course. I asked again how that was possible. It just went in circles.”

  “Seems typical.”

  Joanna gave a heavy sigh and slumped down in her seat. Meatball sat on the floor, tail swishing as he peered up at her, waiting for her to pick him up as the couch was too high for him to jump, apparently. But Joanna didn’t pick him up.

  “I know what they do with dogs after you have them euthanized. They burn them up in a furnace. There’s nothing left. Except their ashes, of course. I know somewhere there are ashes, or something that used to be ashes—maybe they’re muddy and mixed with other garbage or whatever else they got thrown in with after the vet tossed them out—but they’re out there somewhere in some shape or form, and they’re Meatball’s.” Her eyes lowered toward the edge of the couch where she couldn’t quite see the dog on the floor, but knew he was there. “I don’t know where the doctor got this version of Meatball, but I’m not so stupid to think it’s the very same version as the one back home. You can’t pull that out of any furnace.” She leaned forward finally and scooped the dog into her arms. “But even knowing that, I can’t argue against the comfort I feel when I hold this one.”

  Addie watched them both carefully. Joanna smiled as she scratched the dog’s ear. It wasn’t her Meatball, she understood. But it was Meatball all the same. He served his purpose, with or without his certificate of authenticity. Suddenly Addie felt much less disgusted by the sight of them together.

  “I’m sorry if I ever said anything to insult you,” she said.

  Joanna looked up, surprised. “Oh. No worries.”

  They exchanged warm grins.

  “Did the doctor ask you at all about Lyle? Or the keys?”

  “No. I expected him to, but he didn’t. It was just about me.”

  ✽✽✽

  She received a letter from the doctor. It was waiting one morning on the kitchen counter. The envelope wasn’t sealed. She slipped the letter out, turned it over in her hands, unfolded it, and mouthed the words as she read.

  Dear Addie,

  I wanted to write to you for a few reasons. Mostly, I wish to apologize for our last night together. I anticipated that you might be afraid, which of course would have been normal. I would have worried had you not been afraid. But I see that I made you greatly uncomfortable, and I hope I haven’t done anything to damage the trust we’ve built together. I want you to know that making you uncomfortable was never my intention. I only have your wellbeing in mind. I’d like to meet again in the very near future. I don’t want to put you off in fear of a repeat of last time. We can simply talk. I’d like that very much. Please feel free to keep in touch. Let Nuala know when you feel up to talking. Don’t wait too long, however. Your recovery takes precedence to that of any hesitation. Be that as it may, I hope to hear from you before you hear from me. Give it some thought.

  Sincerely,

  Dr. Edgar Lull

  ✽✽✽

  Addie stood in the hot field where it happened. Nuala had done her best to clean up the mess, but there was still evidence to be seen. Tatters of cloth and blood turned black in the dirt. The tub was gone, of course. It moved as it pleased.

  ✽✽✽

  An hour after dark she slipped outside and crept across the yard. She followed the side of the doctor’s house around to the back, where she stopped and surveyed the area around her.

  There were two upstairs windows, one belonging to each of the guest bedrooms. If her memory and knowledge of the house’s interior served her right, the window on the left would be to Bud’s room. Unless for whatever reason they moved him. Probably not.

  She bent and found a small rock in the dirt. She looked around once more. Then, very delicately, she tossed the rock at the window. It bounced off the glass with a mild tick. She waited. The white curtain hung still as ever.

  Before tossing another rock, she paced through the grass a short while, contemplating her efforts. Bud had turned her away. Would he do the same in secret? There was also a chance he could be asleep. Depending on the doctor’s sedatives—should he still be on them—not even the rocks on his window could wake him.

  She threw another, waited. Then another and still nothing.

  Come on, Bud.

  She craned her neck, watched the curtains very carefully. She could just see the shadows in their folds, and those shadows never shifted or swayed. Nothing brushed the curtains from the other side.

  She was about to give up and head back to the guesthouse when she heard something nearby. She stopped and turned toward it. A soft voice, a sound like a hiccup. She followed the rear of the doctor’s house toward the opposite end from where she’d first come. At the corner, she peeked her head out very slowly, just until one eye could see around it. From there the sound was much clearer, and the sight connected to it gave her pause.

  Nuala was slumped on the ground against the side of the house between it and the parked truck. Her knees were brought up to her chest. Her hair hung down over her face so that Addie couldn’t make out her expression. But she shook visibly.

  Not wanting to spy, Addie stepped out and almost immediately Nuala lifted her head to see her. They met each other’s gazes for a moment silently.

  “What’s wrong?” Addie asked.

  Nuala wiped her hair from her face, and then rubbed her thumb under each eye.

  “Oh, nothing. Sometimes I just need to… let it out.”

  Addie joined her, stood next to her.

  “About what?”

  Nuala’s face contorted again in a weepy grimace.

  “I’m just…” She shook her open hands, frustrated in her search for words. “I’m disappointed. You never want anything like this to happen, but it does.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Lyle wasn’t a bad kid. He needed help. So much help.”

  “I don’t think he wanted to accept anyone’s help.”

  Nuala looked up at Addie and her eyes were clear and lost.

  “We failed him. It’s an awful feeling, Addie. I’m tired of it…”

  This last statement struck a chord. Addie sank lower next to Nuala.

  “Tired of it?”

  Nuala took on a guarded expression..

  “You shouldn’t be out here. I only came out here to be alone.”

  “You can talk to me,” Addie said. “We’re expected to talk to you all the time, it’s only fair.”

  “I’m not the one being helped. I shouldn’t be saying these things to you.”

  “But you can’t say it to the doctor, can you?”

  Nuala was taken aback. Her eyes screamed ‘you know something…’ And Addie did know something. Whether she should let on about it was the question.

  “I don’t know where he got the idea,” she began, “but Ly
le said something very strange to me that night before he tried to leave.”

  “You said he didn’t talk to you that night.”

  “We both knew that was a lie.”

  Nuala nodded. Though her eyes were still sparkly and wet, she wasn’t crying anymore. “So, what did he say?”

  “He seemed to think the doctor’s never helped anyone. He was certain, actually. He said the doctor would hurt us sooner or later.”

  “He was wrong to say that.”

  Addie sensed her becoming defensive and hesitated pressing the matter. However, she was so unsure about anything herself—much like she’d been from the very start—that she felt a greater desire than ever to feel reassured.

  “I only brought it up now because of what you just said.”

  “What did I say?”

  “You said you felt like a failure, and then you said you were tired of feeling that way. You made it sound like… I don’t know, like maybe you’ve been feeling this way for a while. Before us, even.”

  “I’m a mess, Addie. I don’t know what I’m saying or crying about. Like I told you, I just needed to get it out of my system. Who knows why we feel the way we do sometimes, why I feel these sudden bouts of melancholy or anger. Don’t let my instability raise questions about the doctor. He’s a great man and he intends to help you.”

  “His intention isn’t what I’m worried about. How many people has he really helped?”

  “We help everyone we take in, with the exception of those like Lyle.”

  “The bathtub killed Lyle. He didn’t do it himself.”

  “It was an accident. It wouldn’t have happened, anyway, if he hadn’t been resisting his treatment in the first place.”

  “That’s the whole reason he was here in the first place, for being like he was. You can’t blame him for that.”

  “Yes, I know, and we failed him. And here we are.”

  They remained silent for a time. Addie mulled over many other questions. She kept most of them to herself, though, deciding she would never get any good answers for them from Nuala.

  “Promise me one thing.”

  Nuala looked fearful. “What is that?”

  “Promise you won’t let the doctor hurt me.”

  Nuala gave Addie a confused, almost displeased look. She turned away and stared absently out into the field.

  “That’s an easy promise, because the doctor would never hurt you. Whatever doubts you have about that are misplaced.”

  “Promise me anyway.”

  Their eyes met.

  “The doctor would never hurt you.”

  “If you believe that, you can promise me. An easy promise you said. So say it.”

  “All right, then. I promise I won’t let the doctor hurt you.”

  Addie sighed. “Okay.”

  She got to her feet, stretched her legs, and started to head back toward the yard for the guesthouse when Nuala stopped her.

  “What were you doing out here?”

  “I couldn’t sleep. Needed a walk.”

  “Did you get the letter? From the doctor?”

  “I did.”

  “Have you thought it over?”

  “He said I could come to him when I’m ready.”

  “All right.”

  She left back to the guesthouse and went to bed.

  ✽✽✽

  Joanna tossed the rolled-up cloth across the front room toward the hallway, down the length of the runner rug, and Meatball chased after it, paws pouncing. He snatched the ball in his mouth and brought it back, head high, legs prancing like the world’s squattest show horse. He dropped it at Joanna’s feet. She threw it again. Addie watched this routine from the kitchen counter with cold clarity, how it seemed Meatball would never grow tired of it, and how Joanna’s grin never faded in its enthusiasm when he brought the cloth back. She watched for so long that eventually her eyes followed them without really seeing them, her mind drifting to deeper places.

  I’ll do it alone, she thought. Without the doctor or Nuala. It’s my experience, not theirs. I don’t need their studying my every feeling or thought.

  I’ll do it alone.

  She was startled at Joanna’s laughter. Joanna offered the ball of cloth to her to join in their game of fetch. Smiling, Addie accepted.

  ✽✽✽

  Night fell over them once again, as it always did, and Addie waited even longer before stepping outside. One hour, two hours, three hours. She figured if she waited long enough Nuala would stop waiting. It was probably a meaningless measure—Nuala probably prowled all hours of the night regardless—but she thought it worth a try.

  She stood on the porch for a few minutes, even sat on the steps for another few. There weren’t any watching eyes or figures bent in the shadows that she saw. Then she waited a few minutes more. And a few more. If anyone was watching, they’d assume she only stepped out for a breath of fresh air. She couldn’t sleep. They’d leave her be.

  Only I’m not just waiting for that, she thought. I’m biding my time out of fear as well. Even I know it.

  She left the yard, into the field. The sky pressed down with its low clouds, and the woods in the distance formed a dark blue wall.

  There’s nothing out there for us.

  She moved through the grass, looked over her shoulder once or twice, not for anything in particular but to judge the distance back to the guesthouse, just in case…

  She stopped, facing the property, convinced she’d seen something. Perhaps a shadow on the roof, or off to the side of the house, or maybe out in the field behind her. Or maybe she hadn’t seen anything at all. Maybe she hoped she would. Maybe if she saw something—Nuala perhaps—she’d return to the guesthouse out of annoyance at being watched. But there weren’t really any shadows. She wasn’t being watched or followed. No one was coming to stop her.

  The tall, thin pines ahead harbored nothing but darkness in them. Their tops bent in a breeze.

  Should something happen… how quickly can I run?

  She pressed on.

  I’m doing this for me. I have to see it.

  The darkness throbbed between the trees like a heartbeat. Something waited within, she knew. It was drawn to her just as she was drawn to it, both of them lured closer and closer to the edges of their worlds. She swallowed her fear and her stomach rolled hungrily in response.

  It occurred to her that nothing might happen without the doctor. Almost comforting. She held on to that thought, clutched her fingers around its weightless form in the palm of her hand like a tiny key. And just as she prepared to slow before the trees, it slipped from her grasp like crushed leaves.

  The figure was already there.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Any fortitude she had deserted her there near the field’s edge, fell from her like squirrels down a tree, scurrying into the grass in all directions.

  The entity stood just outside the woods, tall and straight, guard-like. They might have always been standing there and she hadn’t noticed. But she noticed now.

  It’s not really him. Just a version of him. Summoned by something I still don’t understand. But it’s not him.

  Finding her voice, she said, “I’m here.”

  The entity shivered at the sound, coming to life. Addie shivered in response. It stepped toward her.

  “I’m so glad to see you,” it said.

  She looked over her shoulder one last time. No one. They were alone together.

  “I know you’re not really my dad.” She waited. It said nothing. “But… you’re what he used to be. I’ll accept that.”

  Whether the entity listened at all was up for debate. It stood motionless. Like the doctor, it lacked mannerism or subtle human movements. It may as well have been a department store mannequin. Having never seen it close up, she wondered if it even looked like her father or if it only sounded like him. She didn’t want to find out.

  “I wish I could make things up to you,” it said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there
when you needed me.”

  Suddenly she wished she hadn’t come to see him. Its words, so sudden in their context, felt disingenuous.

  “Can you hear me?” she asked.

  A brief pause. “Of course I can hear you.”

  Goosebumps rolled from head to toe. She wrapped her arms around her middle.

  “I came out here to talk to you.”

  “I’m happy you did.”

  “You’re not really my dad.”

  It said nothing in response.

  “I…” She hesitated. “I need you to tell me you know it’s true.”

  Another pause. “I’m the same as your father.”

  That might be as good an answer as she’d ever get, she thought. She moved on. She tried to think of a question. She had plenty she knew she wanted to ask but there would be no point, she realized, if the answers weren’t coming from something halfway real. It wasn’t her father, but she needed it to be an entirely accurate version of him, at least. She would have to probe.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Jonathan.”

  Too easy, she thought. She needed something a little deeper. A couple things, just to be sure. She’d never be completely, but she needed to know that whatever this thing was… it had to know her father inside and out.

  “What was the name of your drug dealer’s daughter?”

  “Which dealer?”

  A good answer.

  “The dealer you took me to when I was a kid. We stayed at his house.”

  “Danny? His daughter’s name is Sarah.”

  The entity knew a thing or two, at least. Feeling only a teensy bit more comfortable, out of curiosity Addie took a few steps toward it. She still couldn’t see it all too well.

  “Why did you bring me to Danny’s?”