The Painting

#53 The Bathtub - An Seomra Folctha

Lyle finished work before me but when I got home there was no one in the cabin. She must have taken Frankie somewhere I wagered. Thinking nothing of it I went into the kitchen and fired up the old gas stove. Pouring oil into the sizzling pan I paused at the sound of rustling on the other end of the wall.

Maybe Lyle was home after all. I turned off the stove top and rounded the corner to the bathroom door. It was shut and I knocked once for warning while calling her name.

No answer, but the rustling continued, more like a soft pounding sound.

In normal circumstances I wouldn't have paid much attention to it or hesitated with my hand on the door knob. But these were uncertain times and without consciously trying to my mind reverted to a paranoid state. Was Monroe here? Smith and Jones?

Had they somehow heard Lyle and I's conversation and our intent to relaunch our fight against Monroe.

Where was Lyle? Was she hurt?

Oh god. What should I do?

Calling the police didn't seem like a viable option for me ever since the run in at Beth and Ivy's house.

Grace, Tony?

They were only a jog away but did I have enough time? And if I did convince them to come over wouldn't I have to explain why I was so worried? I still wasn't ready to do that.

Rushing back into the kitchen I grabbed the pan I'd been using. The metal warmed my hand but not so much that it was uncomfortable.

With a shaky grip I flung open the door and swung the pan above my head with all the intention of knocking unconscious whoever was hiding. I halted midair, the pan poised over my head as my eyes locked with the person who had infiltrated my home. A drop of oil dripped onto my head as I lowered the pan in confusion.

In my bathroom – actually sitting in the bathtub – was Frankie. His lanky frame was scrunched inside the thick ceramic walls that he lined with pillows and balled up jackets. In front of him sat a paper thin computer perched on his thighs and connected to it a cord leading up to his headphones. That's what the thumping had been I concluded dumbly as more of the tones traveled through the material. Frankie was listening to a loud techno beat with his eyes glued to the computer before him.

It took a few moments for my heart rate to lower as I stood in the doorway. Gradually Frankie looked up and smiled at me.

"Oh hi May!" His uneven teeth stuck out from his lips as he shifted his headphones from his ears, then after looking around at the bathroom. "What's the pan for? This space double as a kitchen?"

Embarrassment didn't touch my features as I narrowed my eyes at the man who looked as though he'd been stretched like a piece of laffy taffy. "Why are you in my bath tub?"

"This is where I work best." He stated simply. "It's the tub, the acoustics are mental."

My mouth formed an 'o' shape and I raised my eyebrows as if his explanation was perfectly logical. Frankie didn't seem to notice my mockery of his statement as he turned back to his computer.

"Where is Lyle?"

"She went out to get me the necessities."

"The necessities?"

"Can't work without 'em." His voice grew quiet as he trailed off.

Frankie's fingers typed furiously on the keyboard and I inched a few steps toward him to try and sneak a peek at what he was up to. Coming to sit on the closed lid of the toilet I lay the pot on my lap and leaned over his shoulder.