Very few people would see a bathtub on the side of the road with a sign that read “free” and do anything about it. But Joe Stevens wasn’t just any person. He was the type of person who would stop, put the bathtub in the back of his dead brother’s pickup, and drive to the cemetery to let a headstone know he was about to keep a promise.
Joe once had a brother who was two years older than him. And Joe was the type of kid brother who worshiped the ground his older brother walked on. He was the kid who, when his brother said how funny it would be to either take a bath in your clothes or float down the river in a bathtub, said they’d do both someday. In fact, Joe was the type of kid who made promises-- and kept them.
Joe Stevens was the type of guy who hadn’t held a job for the past 3 years since his brother died. So he was a guy who had a lot of time on his hands. He would, despite worried looks and whispered questions from concerned neighbors, fill a bathtub up with water, push it into the river behind his house, and climb in with his clothes on.
He was the type of guy who would sit there, floating down the river, smoking a cigarette. He would smoke even though he knew better, because he was going to die anyway like his brother, so it might as well be sooner rather than later.
He was the type of person who loved too much, too deeply. He was the one who didn’t go to his brother’s funeral and still found himself sitting on the floor of his brother’s bedroom every night.
Joe was the guy who went rock climbing without a robe, whitewater rafting without a life vest, and through life without hope.
Joe Stevens was the guy who floated down the river, in a bathtub, fully clothed, smoking a cigarette, crying for all that he had lost.
So that's my little flash fiction piece. Let me know what you think!
--Brianna
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