When they found that body in a barrel at the bottom of Lake Mead I bet you were just as surprised as I was that it wasn\u2019t a woman. They can go on and on as much as they\u2019d like about mob murders\u2014mob murders, mob murders, mob murders. That\u2019s probably what this is. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Remember swimming in the July lake when the water was like soup that sat out for a while? We would imagine there were dead women under us. We\u2019d jump at any little thing that rolled over our toes under the water. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I saw the story this morning after a late shift at the bar. \u201cLate shift\u201d\u2014they\u2019re all late shifts. I was alone in my little kitchen (Toby, who you so lovingly called Bug-Eyed Toby, is long gone\u2014that\u2019s another story), eating oatmeal, and the news was on my little TV. The water level is at a historic low, the ground all laid bare. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Did you see the footage? The barrel was oxidized, dyed white by the minerals in the water. The people who found it could see the man\u2019s belt. I don\u2019t know why that detail sticks to me, that this man had been dead for decades, his belt cinched tight around his rotting middle. It got me thinking about what survives the water and what doesn\u2019t. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I went to lunch after with a woman I met through mutuals named Nora. I like her a lot (not as much as you\u2014don\u2019t worry). We drank margaritas and ate BLTs on rye and smoked and smoked, and she shook her head when I told her what the news said. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cJust awful,\u201d she said. And then I realized how it\u2019s kind of fucked up that I didn\u2019t even consider the fact of the life lost in that barrel. They found it, it wasn\u2019t a woman\u2019s body. I didn\u2019t blink otherwise. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Nora works at a strip club as a bartender. She went on to tell me a story about one of the girls who went home with a customer. Sounds sketchy, but he was a regular, and he\u2019d come in wearing nice clothes (a belt?) and showing pictures of his kids, and everyone got real comfortable with him. They knew his name, even, but Nora wouldn\u2019t tell me. She treats confidentiality more serious than a shrink, which is partly why I like her so much. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Anyway, the girl went home with Regular Guy, and he drugged her and beat her. That\u2019s the story. I waited for Nora to give me more\u2014where is the girl now? Where is Regular Guy? He doesn\u2019t still come in, does he?\u2014but she twisted her forefinger and thumb in front of her lips, locking them up, keeping me out. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Now why did she tell me a story like that? At first I thought it was because I clearly thirst for stories like that\u2014grisly, quick stories that confirm my fears and make me happy to lock myself up alone at night. But then I realized it\u2019s Vegas, and it was a story about a woman and a man she didn\u2019t know very well. Sound familiar? I attract echoes.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Nora started crying when I told her about you, and apologizing for telling that story, and I may have cried too. It\u2019s hard to tell what\u2019s crying and what\u2019s the heat, or what\u2019s the margarita. It\u2019s hard to tell what moisture matters anymore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I still drive by your house to see the flash of your blue rocks in the front yard, nestled in with all that tan. Tan, tan, tan. The new renters haven\u2019t moved the rocks yet. Maybe they sense that if they did, I\u2019d come in and rip them open with my hands just for something to do. Maybe they sense that this is only temporary\u2014that one day, you\u2019ll come back for all of us, and you\u2019ll bring the blue rain with you. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
________<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Lindsey Baker Bower (she\/her) lives in Atlanta. Her fiction has appeared in<\/em> The Forge, <\/em>SmokeLong Quarterly, <\/em>Third Point Press, and elsewhere. She has an MFA from Georgia State University. <\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"