Bottled Abyss by Benjamin Kane Ethridge

reassurance—“Do you know the song—? The song my heart so dearly needs to hear—?”

    Want to sing him Gabby’s song, the Beatles’ “A Day in the Life”—Can’t remember which part—can’t talk, will never talk again—

    Another surge comes from the depths of my stomach, but it halts in my throat—

    “Who keeps the bottle now—?”

    “The bottle—?” My thoughts are lost—

    “How did you come by this coin—?”

    Can’t answer—everything disintegrates and slides down, fluid pushes me over rough moving water—drowning, salt water forces into my lungs, balloons them, bursts them—keep moving on, nature’s plaything, rolling through the current, dragging across bone fragments that line the endless deep, only to fall past them, across underwater cliffs, and there is no real bottom to this, and can’t see the top, where the surface should be, or the sky, where’s the sky—? Nothing above, nothing below, everything inside, everything deep, deeper than the deepest, and cold, so freezing and unbearably icy frigid, alone, ultimate loneliness, worse than losing Gabby, how could that possibly be—? No, hell no, there is no such thing, until now, there is no sound, no love, no memories, not until I reach the other side, but what other side—? It’s long gone, forever gone, somebody sings—

    The God doesn’t want any memories here—

    They’ve died and will never come back.

8

    Having a very large piece of yourself, a desperate desire, removed in total isn’t as cathartic as one would expect; sobriety is a dreary sensation that spreads from the toes, all the way into the brain, where it resides like a cold lump of lead; to be sure, it’s an experience that falls well short of bliss.
    Janet had to sit down once it happened. At first she accepted this was the prolonged response of her body shutting down, that the bottle and the coin and maybe even Sam’s visit had been byproducts of a dying mind. Maybe she was still in the hospital right now, with Herman leaning over her, his big warm hands clasping her cold bloodless ones, telling her to hold on, to not leave him.
    The strangeness occurred right after she’d given her coin away. She knew that something had been let go and she’d never have it back. More bizarre, letting go the coin had been this emotional journey that Sam inflicted upon her. His footsteps crossed from one side of her mind to the other and he went out an exit that always existed but until now hadn’t been discovered. It was a passing, a crossing, a final voyage that had been paid for in full.
    And in the end of all of this, Janet didn’t want to make that trip to the liquor store. Not now, not ever. Her plans for another rendezvous with alcohol-induced death would never come to be. The thought of even one light beer repulsed her. The beloved acquired taste had returned to being vile, as it had before Melody went away.
    Faye knocked on the front door, but unlocked it before Janet had the chance to rise from the couch. Her friend’s elfish face was sullen and defeated, and Janet knew the gym hadn’t turned up anything.
    “You want me to call?” she asked, putting her purse down on the end table.
    Janet felt dizzy. She should have felt relieved she could now do this without needing to be drunk ( god that was strange ), but it had been a long time since she faced reality in a sober vehicle. Fear was all around her.
    “Yes please.”
    Faye didn’t lose a moment and picked up her cell phone to dial the police department. While she waited she studied Janet closely. “Evan’s checking all the bars they used to go to.”
    Janet nodded, but said nothing.
    “Oh yes, I’d like to report a missing person. Will you send somebody to—” Faye’s expression changed to sudden confusion. “Oh.”
    She held the phone away from her and said to Janet, “We can either go down there and file the report or do it over the phone. They don’t send anyone to your house.”
    “Let’s