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The Bucket
"This is the last time I'll ever have to do this fucking chore," Liz said through clenched teeth.
The bucket she was struggling to move was big--two feet tall and one foot wide. It weighed about fifty pounds, and was too heavy to carry with one arm, so Liz moved it one foot at a time. She had to be careful not to spill it. She had to be just as careful not to smell it, or she would puke all over the snow.
The bucket contained human waste, or as her mother called it in her vulgar way, piss and shit. Liz just called it the bucket.
It was hard to move it through the snow. Have to lift it high or the snow will tip it. Then move it forward — keep it level — now down slowly.
Her muscles ached and her chest felt as if it were filling with liquid. Her jacket wasn't made for winter, let alone windy evenings.
No matter how often she dumped the bucket, she never got used to it. It wasn't just that it was hard work. She had been through seven winters of digging through snowdrifts, searching for the wood pile, prying the frozen logs apart with thinly gloved hands, chopping the wood into stove-sized pieces and carrying them into the house, load after frozen load. Somehow, though, the bucket was different.
If I'd never had plumbing, it might not matter, she told herself. But she did remember, or at least, thought she did, times before the move to the woods. The old house had been clean and huge. It was always warm, and it had real sinks with running water and huge bathtubs. Now, if she wanted a warm bath, she would have to collect snow in pots and melt it on the stove, picking the pine needles out. She had to wash quickly because the house was cold, even with the stove burning. The water would almost freeze on her skin, a sensation that felt strangely like touching a hot stove. She would dry each part immediately after she washed it, trying to stay warm. Her class mates wouldn't have teased her about being dirty if they'd known what she had to go through to wash. Or maybe they would have, kids being kids. But Liz had never invited anyone home, so it was her own secret.
The old house had flushing toilets. The bucket was their toilet now. A cracked piece of plywood she had found served as a seat. My own little contribution to civilization, she thought. She had to go 150 feet from the house before she could dump the bucket. This was where the yard ended and the dense forest began. It was annoying how long it seemed to take, but she kept reminding herself that this was the last time ever. Tomorrow she would be gone, off into a whole new universe. School dorms, she lifted the bucket, clean rooms, she moved the bucket, carpets, she put it down again, running water, she lifted it, bathtubs, moved it, and toilets, she put it down again.
The metal handle began to bite into her gloved skin. She rested and stuffed her hands under her armpits for heat. They would be red when she went back inside. The first explorers had frozen to death. She could see why. I've got to remember to keep my ears and nose warm, she thought. They get frostbite first.
When she returned with the empty bucket, she would put it in the 2' X 4' frame which her father had built, to which her mother had stapled old blankets, for privacy. The cubicle stank, reaching its height in the summer when it filled the house with the stench of raw sewage. Flies too, buzzing like a chainsaw. University would be better, she was sure. The student loans would pile up, but, better to face that than the pile she was on her way to now.
She switched arms. Her left wasn't as strong or as deft, but the right felt as though it would pop from its socket at any moment. Lift, move, lower. Lift, move, lower. The bucket began to slosh over as she grew more careless now that she was nearing the pile. The wind was blowing snow off the tall pines, down her neck and up her pant legs.
Close enough now.
She picked up the bucket, one hand near the bottom and swung it towards the pile.
She did not see the ice.
"I hate my parents," she thought as she felt her shoes slip. The bucket went up into the air, hung motionless for one second, then clumsily began to descend.
