Down the Drain

FOUR

The next day was a total disaster.

Problem one: a bad night’s sleep. He woke on the couch with a stiff back, a sore neck, and a wet spot on the cushion beneath his butt that was half the result of the damp towel he’d forgotten to remove and half from spilled beer.

Problem the second: he still hadn’t been able to find Selina in the morning. Not in the house, not outside, not anywhere.

And then: he’d had to rebuild three different walls at work when his measurements came out slightly (or in one case, astronomically) wrong. He tried to tell himself she was just a cat, that he shouldn’t let her disappearance affect him so much, that she’d probably be waiting for him when he got home that night.

But she was more than just a cat. She’d been his companion for over ten years and the only friend he’d had since Eileen walked out.

And what if she wasn’t there? What if she was gone for good? Run away, or dead and decaying in a ditch somewhere? Maybe he was letting it get to him more than he should have, but to feel nothing would have been...dysfunctional. Soulless even.

So he thought about the cat, worried about her, and he screwed up his work. He’d started the day three weeks behind and ended it three weeks and two days behind. Hard to believe that staying home and sulking could sometimes be the productive thing to do. No three-, two-, or even one-day weekend for him this week. He’d have to come in at sunrise and work until dark every day until the following Saturday at least.

Need to get yourself some help. Couple of kids who’ll work for seven bucks an hour and do all the grunt work.

No, that would be a bad idea. A cheap solution on paper, but in reality he’d end up worse off. He’d hired help before and found that the kind of people who will work for the money he had to offer, if they showed up at all, would do more damage than good. They’d bust their butts for a couple of hours, but then they’d sneak off into the woods for a smoke (or a meth) break and come back two hours later ready to call it a day. Or they’d accidentally knock down a brace and send a whole series of walls dominoing into one another and shattering into worthless kindling. Or they’d knock the Sawzall out a window and bend the blade. Or they’d sword fight with their loaner tape measures and knock each other out a window. Bruce had seen it all once or twice. All those things and stupider. He was better off working on his own. Behind or not. Preoccupied or not.

By the time he got home that night, it was long past dark. His muscles screamed, the sawdust in his nose half suffocated him, and all he wanted to do was get in bed. Instead, he searched the house again.

Bedroom: empty. Bathroom: nada. Office: catless. Utility room: no Selly.

He opened a can of tuna and left it on the porch, hoping the scent might draw her home if she was anywhere in the vicinity. More likely, some stray would end up with the snack, but it didn’t hurt to try.

He brought a beer into the bathroom and turned on the shower. By the time he’d gotten out of his filthy work clothes, he’d changed his mind and decided maybe tonight should be a bath night. His aching muscles could use a soak. He reached past the shower curtain, shut off the water to deactivate the showerhead, turned it back to hot, and plugged the drain.

While the tub filled, he checked the tuna on the porch and found an empty can but no Selina. He went into the kitchen for a second beer.

Maybe you can actually drink both this time.

He’d left his second beer on the coffee table when he fell asleep the night before. He'd awakened to find a nasty water ring he’d either have to ignore or sand out when he had the time. Which, if this week was any indication, would be never.

He found some of Eileen’s old bubble bath under the sink and thought, what the hell.

He poured a few capfuls into the bathwater; the surface frothed and bubbled like the concoction in a witch’s cauldron. It smelled sweet, coconuty. He set his bottles on the tub’s edge and lowered himself into the suds.

This time, he fell asleep before he opened even one of the beers.