Eve stood on her backyard deck, chewing dark thoughts like sweet candies. Leaves chattered in the wind and a bird piped in, adding a high note here and there. At the advice of her therapist, she stepped into the hot tub and lowered herself until the warmth covered her shoulders.
Think of something that’s troubling you and let it flow away into the water.
William had corrected her last night because she’d forgotten to collect his shirts from the dry cleaners. Inhale. Exhale. With each expelled breath, she willed hurt, humiliation, anger and fear out through her pores. Go, go. The bruise would need time, but still, that felt pretty good. Better than she’d expected.
Next in line — William had set his eye on some new young thing. She was familiar with what this looked like because once she had been the new young thing. How well she remembered that glint in his eye, that swagger in his step. Out, out the knowledge went, diluting, dispersing into the heated water.
She considered William’s ex — that bitch, Jade — and discovered her previous animosity toward the woman had all but disappeared. Soon enough she would become that bitch, Eve. It would be funny if she and Jade were to become friends. Unlikely, but funny. The stories they could share —
When the water had grown cold despite the heater’s efforts, and her fingers and toes resembled pale morels, she got out and went inside. After a quick shower, she set about preparing William’s favourite dish, one that took several hours to prepare.
At the end of the workday, he returned home and greeted her, though he didn’t acknowledge the shadow on her cheek.
When they finished the meal, which she thought had turned out better than ever, he deemed it decent. “Though it could have used a pinch more saffron.”
Decent, at least, didn’t warrant a correction. Eve began clearing the dishes.
“I’m going to have a soak. Pour me a brandy.”
She did as she was told.
In the clear night sky, the stars glimmered, a bolt of garishly sparkling fabric flung across the heavens. William lifted the hot tub lid, pressed a couple of buttons on the control panel, and then stood on the deck sipping his brandy. He liked to become chilled, the better to enjoy the contrast when he finally immersed himself. The LED lights cycled patiently, tinting the water red then green, blue, then violet.
After several minutes, he set the empty glass on the deck, climbed into the tub, and sank until the water reached his chin. A blissful expression softened his face, returning it to an earlier version, one more likely to caress than correct. But then that softness transformed into — Eve wasn’t sure how to name it — and he screamed. When he tried to stand, some dark and liquid thing prevented it. Writhing, twisting, it pulled him back. And down.
Release.
Nikki Vogel has had poetry and short stories published in both print and electronic format. She was a runner up in the 2012 Little Bird Writing Contest and in 2015 had a story listed as Notable Science Fiction in The Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy. Her first book publication, Silencing Rebecca, was a finalist for The Diamond Foundation Prize for Children/Youth. She lives in Edmonton on Treaty 6 Territory.
This article appears in the May 2024 issue of Edify
