Thirst by Benjamin Warner Read Free Book Online

got a good man’s face.”
    “That was before I knew the extent of the outage.”
    “You have any juice or anything in the fridge? We normally give him apple juice.”
    The mention of apple juice pinched at Eddie’s nerve. He felt briefly panicked and shifted in front of the door—as if protecting the apple juice they did, indeed, have in the fridge.
    “We’ve got nothing,” he said. “Go to the store and buy some juice. Get him to Holy Cross if you need to. They’ll take care of him there.”
    “Fine,” said Bill Peters. He crossed his arms over his chest so that the milk jug protruded from his armpit. “You’re a liar, then.”
    “Leave, please.”
    “You’re a liar and you feel bad about it, don’t you? I’ve got a sick kid, and you’re a healthy man. You should be ashamed.”
    “I’ve been patient with you,” Eddie said. He felt his voice rise and tried to steady it. “We’re all in this together. Just wait until they come.”
    “Your wife is in there, isn’t she? Does she know she’s married to a liar?” He came up close and tried to peer around Eddie.
    Eddie caught his arm and turned him around. He pushed his hand into the small of Bill Peters’s back. He hardly weighed anything at all. “Come on,” Eddie said between his teeth.
    Bill Peters stiffened as Eddie pushed him toward the screen door. At the top of the steps, he lifted at the man’s collar and shoved. Bill Peters tripped and landed in a pile in the driveway.
    He didn’t get up, and he didn’t turn his head to look at Eddie. He reached to pick at one of the desiccated day lilies that lined the asphalt and crushed the crisp flower in his fist. “I know where you live now,” he said.
    “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Eddie called down to him.
    “You know what it means.”
    There was a table on the porch where Eddie and Laura sometimes ate dinner in the twilight, and a thin glass vase where he put flowers. The vase was empty, and Eddie grabbed it by the neck. He let it dangle at his side as he stood at the top of the steps. Bill Peters got up. The jug had fallen into an azalea bush,and he retrieved it and went walking down the block. When he was a few houses away, he raised his middle finger in the air and held it up behind his head.
    Eddie put the vase back on the table and went inside.
    “You fought with him?” Laura said.
    “He threatened us,” Eddie said, immediately regretting it.
    “What did he say?”
    “He thought I was holding out on him, is all.”
    “That’s not what he said.”
    “So if you know, why are you asking?”
    “You could have filled up his bottle.”
    “Listen to me,” he said. He put both hands on her shoulders. “Don’t give away anything we have in the fridge.”
    “It’s not like there are people lining up.”
    “Just don’t. Promise me. Let’s just save it until we see what happens.” He went to the refrigerator and took out the bottle of juice. A quarter of it was left and he poured it into a glass.
    “Here,” he said. “Drink this.”
    “I thought we were saving it.”
    “Drink it.”
    “All the water’s out, right?” she said. “I only tried the kitchen sink.”
    “Please.”
    He held the glass out to her and she took it and drank down the juice in big, vocal gulps.
    “Okay,” she said, finally breathing.
    “We’ll be fine until it comes back on.”
    “Wait,” she said. She bunched her thumb and fingers and pressed them to her forehead. “The woman down the street.”
    “Who?”
    She squeezed her eyes shut to concentrate.
    “Mrs. Kasolos,” she said.
    “I’ll check on her.”
    “We’ll go together.”
    “Let me. I feel fine. Which one is it?”
    “It’s the one right on the corner. On our side of the street.”
    “And how do you know her?”
    “I’ll go if you don’t want to.”
    “She knows you?”
    “Eddie …”
    He went outside and was buoyed by the sunlight. The sidewalk was as bright as a washed plate. There was no sign of