Trained and Punished

It was an average Thursday, the grocery store was no more crowded than usual. Janet strolled through the aisles absentmindedly, checking off the items on her list and tapping her manicured nails on her lip as she thought about what she might be missing. She already got the chicken, and the pork shoulder for their Sunday dinner, she knew she got the grapes, the apples, the tomatoes. Then she realized. She still needed milk. Janet made her way to the dairy aisle and picked up two gallons of whole milk, placing them delicately next to each other in her cart. She straightened and looked at the list on her phone to see if there was anything she was missing. With a final confirmation she got into line for checkout and put her things on the counter. "Cindy! Cindy!", a flurry of pink hair bows and rainbow light up Sketchers came crashing into Janet's knee and running past, "I'm so sorry she just gets distracted so easily!” a woman said as she hurriedly chased the girl. Janet watched as the little girl bounced along the fruit section, studying the shapes and poking the watermelons. Her mother caught up and scolded her, then grabbed her hand and walked away. Janet watched them walk off, disgruntled mother and curious daughter in tow. She watched the daughter balance on her tiptoes as she walked forward, like a baby bird on the edge of a nest. Janet thought about how she should be annoyed, how she should’ve scoffed or sucked her teeth but instead she wanted to show Miss Rainbow Sketchers the cakes and the pastries. She wanted to show her all the cookies and brownies and the different colored sheet cakes someone would get a birthday. She wanted to help Miss Rainbow Sketchers find a cake that matched her shoes and see her excitement for it all. "That'll be $123.58. Ma'am? Ma'am?" Janet snapped her attention back to the checkout, suddenly there were several bags on a spinning rack ready for her. She looked back toward the fruit section one more time, then hurriedly got her wallet and rummaged around for her card. Janet found the correct one and handed it to the cashier, avoiding eye contact. "Sorry." She collected her groceries and left. After putting them in her spacious trunk, she got in the car and took a deep, slow breath. Then she took another. And another. Each breath became more of a rattle, a sigh. She payed attention to the sound of the air entering her nostrils, filling her lungs. Janet let the repetition become a brief ritual. The rising and falling of her chest like the lull of waves on a beach somewhere much farther from here than she wished. In the summers her and her husband used to go to Daytona, what started as a random anniversary trip became an annual family outing. They would lie on the shore and find the constellations. The two of them would trace the stars along each other's bodies, recreating a galaxy against flesh and collarbone. She took one last deep breath and started the car. Janet always thought her home was modest, she told Marty they were going to need to get a bigger one if he really planned on having a family as big as the one he had growing up. Half the space in their home was wasted on a large unfinished basement, the previous owners were going to turn it into a man cave or something or other but their attention was diverted elsewhere. They had always planned to have a big family, it just hadn't been in the cards yet. She got the groceries into the kitchen and started placing them on the counter. With a hip thrust for help and an elbow push, she heaved the rest of the bags in one motion onto the granite top. After checking to see if she left anything in the car, Janet set her gaze on the backyard, if it could be called a backyard. Just enough space out there for a small patio and some gardenias she planted. Janet walked out onto the patio and crouched next to the door to check on two milk cartons she set out a week or so earlier. The dairy was starting to separate into white, spiraling clumps and a clear but slightly yellow tinted water. It looked like mucus, like she had cultured a new fungus and it was just sitting in her backyard, (if it could be called a backyard), waiting to be discovered. The jug had now bloated like a body, so tense and bulbous Janet was scared to open it. Perfect, she thought. She straightened up and looked forward, staring at the wall in front of her. One deep breath in, one out. She turned and walked back in. Just as she started putting everything away, she felt her phone vibrate. "Hey honey," Janet hadn't talked to her husband in a few days so it was nice hearing his voice. Sometimes she would lay on his chest and listen to him talk about nothing if only to feel the rumble of his voice. "How's the trip going?" Marty worked in hotel management and it meant trips all over the place for who knew how long. Janet balanced the phone between her ear and shoulder as she continued putting groceries away. The berries found their home next to the grapes, then the bread, then the chicken, and so on. "It's okay." he said, "I'm just ready to come back home. I wouldn't have gone if they didn't say it was an emergency, I hate being gone for so long. The company we're supposed to be working with still has cold feet. It's a mess. How are you?" She could hear him holding his breath. He was probably waiting for her to say she's doing terribly, she thought. For her to say she hasn't eaten or gone outside, or maybe that she's started pulling her hair out or talking to the sky. "I'm okay, just missing you. Trying to stay present. Dr. Stewart recommended these recentering exercises for when I start to get distant." Janet fiddled with one of the grocery bags between her fingers. She began wrapping the handle of the plastic bag around her fingertip. "I'm going to be back home soon, just- I didn't even want to come on this trip. I didn't want to leave you alone so soon after-" "Really, it's okay. I think the time to myself is actually a good thing. You love me too hard sometimes anyway it's suffocating," she joked, "in a good way." Her half smile faded. "I got a call from the insurance company, they're still pushing against covering the burial." Janet spun the bag handle around her finger more. She twirled it and twirled it until her pointer finger went from a sandy beige to a blush pink. She twirled it over again, watching as the tip of her first digit changed to a beet red. It was swollen and bulging now, expanding like some horrendous blood balloon. The color slowly faded to a sickly blue and purple. "Well f**k. Okay I'll handle it, don't worry about it. I just want you to rest. Did-did you get a chance to check out those links I sent you? For the support group?" Janet popped the plastic handle off the grocery bag. "No. I don't think I'm ready to look at those right now. Not yet. I will just, not yet. Hey, you actually caught me while I was putting up the groceries so I'll talk to you later okay? Love you, bye." “I'm sorry I brought it up. I just want us to be able to move forward through this." "Right yeah no I get it. I really gotta go though, Talk to you later." "Okay, have a good day and call me later. I-I'm sorry, I lo-" Janet hung up and stared at the cabinets in front of her, the way the grain swirled and danced, how it flowed along the handle and paneling. She took a deep breath, in and out. In and out. The last thing she had to put up was the milk. Janet carefully placed them in the fridge, side by side. After closing the fridge, she looked to the basement door. Slowly, she turned around and headed back out onto the patio. Janet precariously picked up the bloated milk jug and carried it inside. The distended milk carton let out a loud hiss until the sharp click of the cap coming off was heard. She got a cup and placed it on the table, slowly lifting the jug to kiss the rim of the glass. With a slow plop, plop, plop, she poured the curdled dairy into the cup. The milky white clumps fell into the glass lazily and sloppily, like the aftermath of Fireball and sushi after a night out with friends. It smelled similar, Janet recalled. The stench pierced her nose and shot straight to her stomach, twisting it into a knot and tightening until it couldn't be undone. A putrid mix of old sour cream, garbage, and gunk swam around her. She gasped for air and finished pouring the mixture, the jug almost regurgitating it. She looked at the cup, it reminded her of cottage cheese. A cheese with green and orange mold patches sitting atop a soup broth of some sort. It was unsightly, yet intriguing. The same way mold colonies are intriguing in the way they create their own little alien worlds. Different colors and textures, a horrendously grotesque beauty. Janet picked up the glass and headed to the basement door, glass still warm in her hand. She undid the locks on the door to reveal a large stairwell descending into darkness, a set of plain wood steps leading to the void. The silence was deafening. The only sound being the slow creaks of the floorboards beneath her, moaning against the weight of each step. The suffocating quiet slowly changed as a faint panting was heard from the bottom of the steps. Breathless and desperate. As she got closer to the bottom of the staircase, the sharp, quick breaths in the distance changed into whimpering. It was a sad, panicked sound. Janet reached the bottom and turned on a light. In the middle of the unfinished basement sat a dog cage. Not much else was in the room, save for a bucket and some miscellaneous boxes full of junk. It was a big dog cage, built for the dogs you get to protect your family. Your German Shepherds, your Great Danes, your Pitbulls. Huddled in the corner of the cage sat a man with no more on than a pair of tattered Hanes. His skin, that used to be a healthy beach tan, was now three shades darker from the dirt and filth caked all over him. His bones prominent and raspy voice deathly, he pleaded, "Please...please. Can I have some water?"