Bottled Abyss by Benjamin Kane Ethridge Page A

before he could go on. There was a lock on the bedroom door but it didn’t work and Herman had never had it replaced. Luckily, Evan did not come in and instead flipped on the television.
    Janet didn’t really despise Evan, nor could she fault Herman for keeping a part of his life secret from her. They were confused, just like everybody else in the world. Fatal flaws she could completely understand, by now.
    A new feeling settled in on her as she tried to get to sleep, and it was surprising, not only in its emergence, but also its intensity.
    She needed her husband. She missed him.
    Where was he?
    Outside came the hissing of a garbage truck. It pulled in front of the house briefly and then chugged on. Nobody had put the cans out. That was Herman’s job. There would be twice the trash for this week. Yay .
    Lester’s long accented bark from the back yard seemed to warn the noisy garbage truck it better get moving faster. The bark was the last sound Janet heard before falling asleep. Her last thought was about that strange bottle.

    Janet woke up every few hours with a different arbitrary topic possessing her thoughts. These sheets and quilt are dirty and that stupid washing machine will mess them up. High efficiency my ass… Stuffy in here; a cold beer would hit the spot… How might Melody have looked as a teenager or an old woman? Like me? Like Herman? Maybe neither of us… Did Faye bake pineapple upside-down cake? The house smelled like the cake. Don’t love it like she thinks I do, but actually a piece would be nice right now… How am I going to ditch those detox meetings they want me to do…?
    She was never awake long enough to ponder each topic in much detail, not until her eyes opened and night had fallen.
    Not investing much hope, she slid her hand to the sunken side of the bed where Herman normally slept. It was cold and without.
    Dread forced itself on her and horrible new scenarios inked into the channels of her mind. Her mouth went dry and all of a sudden she needed water badly. She climbed out of bed and went out into the living room. A form was curled up on the couch. Taking only a few steps closer, she realized it was Faye and felt some relief.
    The kitchen spread out before Janet, twice the size she remembered it. Everything was immaculate and put away, and on the table, there was indeed a pineapple upside-down cake under cellophane. Janet opened the refrigerator and a meat loaf dinner, complete with mashed potatoes, green peas, and cornbread had all been compartmentalized in Tupperware. The food looked good enough to eat cold, but Janet grabbed for the water pitcher instead.
    She poured a glass of water and drank it all. Then poured half a glass and steadily sipped on it. Her taste buds interpreted the texture of the water with a sour aversion at first. She anticipated the sharp sting of alcohol, but there wasn’t one.
    She drank the rest of the glass and returned the pitcher.
    As the fridge closed, the kitchen went black again and her eyes had to adjust. Through the window to the backyard, she saw something stand out starkly in the nightscape. She recognized the bottle’s long, delicate form and obscene black tint. Why hadn’t Lester batted it around like he did with his other toys? She would have bet good money she’d find the bottle somewhere against the fence the next day, a sticky film of doggy slobber all over it. But no, the bottle was still upright and at the mouth of the dog’s little den.
    “I’ll get you the magic water like I did for Lester. Hold on baby. Hold on!”
    The memory was Herman’s voice, but Janet didn’t trust it; the context of the recollection had been removed and sounded like a line from a movie she’d never seen. The most bizarre part was she recalled his words so clearly and yet there were no images tied to them. If she believed in a soul, she might have considered Herman speaking to her through his emotions; like he was in some far away place, yes, and he was