Timothy Johnston - The Current

“Hello—?” she said, and Katie Goss said, “Yes. I’m here.”

THE APARTMENT BUILDING was not three blocks from the hospital where she’d woken up with men in the room and a purple cast on her arm. The front entrance would not be locked, Katie Goss had said, and it wasn’t. A small dog yapping behind a door somewhere. TVs going. Smell of grilled onions in the air. She went up the stairs, her boots thumping dully on thin brown carpeting, and at the top of the stairs the door with the number 4 on it was not quite shut all the way. She rapped on the door, trying not to open it any farther, and a voice called out, “Audrey—?”

“Yes.”

“We’re back here in the bathroom.”

She stepped in and shut the door behind her and waited to see if Katie Goss would poke her head from the lighted doorway down the hallway but she didn’t. There was splashing, a child’s voice. The living and kitchen area were all one space, separated only by a short length of half wall. A TV played to an empty loveseat and a herd of toy horses on a coffee table, the horses all on their feet and of all different colors and sizes. Food-smeared plates and milk glasses had been left on the little dinner table.

She moved down the hall and as she neared the open door there was the smell of bathwater and steam and baby shampoo. She eased her head around the jamb and it was the child who saw her first—great brown eyes looking up, then looking down again at the bathwater, at the colorful things bobbing before her in the suds. Kneeling beside the tub in her nurse’s uniform, purple top and pants, was Katie Goss, her hair gathered up in clips and a few blond tails fallen loose. She saw Audrey and she smiled the tired smile of a mother and said, “Ah, there she is, sweetie, there’s Audrey. Can you say hello?”

The little girl didn’t look up but continued playing with her toys, her lips moving as she talked to them.

“Shy tonight,” said Katie Goss.

“What’s her name?”

“Melanie. We call her Mel.”

“Hello, Mel. Is that a mermaid?”

The mermaid dove underwater, where Audrey couldn’t see her anymore.

Katie Goss lifted a sudsy hand from the child’s head. “I’m Katie. I’d shake your hand, but…”

“I’m Audrey. Maybe I should come back later?”

“Why?”

“You have your hands full.”

“My hands are always full. I’ll tell you what you can do, though.”

“What?”

“You can go out to the kitchen and find that bottle of wine I set out and open it and pour yourself a glass. Do you drink wine? Otherwise there’s juice in the fridge, or water.”

“I drink wine. Should I wait for you there?”

“God, no. It’s Friday. Bring me back a glass of that wine. And take off your jacket.”

In the kitchen she hung the jacket on a chairback and found the bottle of wine. The opener was beside it and she twisted the skewer into the cork as Caroline had taught her and drew down the arms and pulled the cork free with a deep pop. You were supposed to let it sit for a while, breathe, so she carried the dirty plates and the glasses and the silverware from the table and set them on the counter. Ominous music was playing from the TV as a man spoke of a fresh twist in the case; a woman had murdered her husband with a pair of scissors—or had she?

Audrey returned to the bathroom with the two glasses and Katie said, “Oh, you’re in a cast—I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have asked you to open the wine.”

“It’s fine. Should I…?”

“Yes, just set mine there, please.”

The little girl was standing now, with her hands over her face, as Katie filled a plastic Cool Whip container from the spout and emptied it over her head. The girl’s wet hair hung in a dark curtain down to her little biceps, islands of suds slipping down her tummy and down her legs and she stood with no embarrassment at all; her nudity was nothing to her.

“How old is she?”

“How old are you, Mel?”

One little hand came out from under the hair with four fingers raised and went under again.

“Four?”

She nodded.

Katie tossed a towel over the girl’s head and lifted her out of the tub and set her on her feet and began rubbing at the body under the cloth. As she rubbed she looked at Audrey more carefully, as if it were only now possible to do so.

“I saw you on the news,” she said. “You’re lucky to be alive.”

“What?” said the girl, her small voice muffled and shaken.

“I’m talking to Audrey, baby.”

“Oh.”

Audrey sipped her wine.

Katie said, “I’m sorry about your friend. Caroline?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Just so awful.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry about your father too.”

“Thank you.”

“You’ve had a rough time of it, haven’t you.”

“I’m all right.”

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

“Nineteen. Lord. How’s that wine?”

“It’s good. Thank you.”

“Is Audrey sleeping over?”

“No, baby. Audrey and Mommy are going to talk for a while after you go to bed like a good little citizen.”

“I wanna talk too.”

“No, you don’t. This is grown-up talk.”

“So?”

“Come on,” she said, lifting the girl again. “Let’s get you in those jammies.”

Audrey sat on the loveseat and watched the crime show with the volume turned down, and after a while the little girl came thumping out and dropped to her knees in the space between the sofa and the coffee table and began moving the horses around.

“What are their names?”

“This is Lavender and this is Strawberry. This is Peaches, she’s Strawberry’s sister, and this is Dave.”

“Dave?”

“Mm-hmm, and this is the corral and that’s the meadow where you’re sitting.”

“Should I move?”

“No, they already runned in the meadow before.”

“Oh, good.”

“What did you do to your hand?”

“I broke it.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Not anymore.”

“Can I touch it?”

“Sure.” She held out the cast and watched as the girl stroked it like it was a soft pet.

“I like the color.”

“Thank you. I do too.”

Katie came out in sweatpants and a University of Minnesota T-shirt. “I slipped into something a little more comfortable, as they say.” She went to the kitchen and came back with the wine bottle and set it on the coffee table away from the horses. They sat and watched the crime show while the little girl played with her horses and chattered. At the end of the show you still didn’t know if the wife had done it or not; she was in jail awaiting her trial. There was no end and no answer.

“They always end like that,” Katie said. “It’s one big tease.”

Audrey was feeling the wine. She’d almost forgotten why she was there. She thought she could curl up on the loveseat and sleep over after all.

“Will you be all right while I put her to bed?”

“Sure.”

“We read for a bit. It could be awhile.”

“It’s OK. Take your time.”

“Say good night to Audrey, baby.”

The girl came around the coffee table and lifted her face, her lips, and Audrey leaned forward for the softest kiss. “Good night, Audrey.”

“Good night, Mel.”

When they were gone she put her head back and closed her eyes and soon she heard Katie’s reading voice down the hall, and then it was as if she were in the bedroom herself and the voice were reading to her, and next she knew a hand was on her shoulder gently shaking and Katie was sitting facing her with one foot tucked up under the other leg. The TV had been shut off and music was playing quietly from somewhere.

“I’m sorry…” Audrey said.