Swamped
"Where's all this water coming from?" asked Jorge, slowly stepping onto the cold bathroom floor, swamped from the shower to the door.
There had been two very happy months up till now when the couple tidied and organized their new home. Amora had never liked living in her parents’ house. It was far away from everything, there was always so much dust and there was hardly any internet access. But, now that her parents had died, there wasn't much more sense in paying rent. The piping, though, had never been a problem.
The water register was closed. The water was pulled with a floor squeegee. It was too late to look for the leak.
Next morning, when Jorge walked into the bathroom holding a cup of water to brush his teeth, he wet his socks on a puddle of clean water.
He made sure the register was closed. He pulled the water with a squeegee.
He examined the sink's siphon. He examined the faucet. He examined the basin. Everything was fine.
He examined the shower stall's sealing rubber. He examined the shower drain. Everything was fine.
He examined the toilet's water tank. He examined the toilet. Everything was fine. He switched the flushing valve's rubber just in case.
Next morning was Amora's turn to get the hem of her sweat pants wet.
She closed the register. She pulled the water with a squeegee.
She decided to call a plumber.
"I didn't find anything, Missus, but I charge a hundred reais an hour just to check it out."
It had been four hours of work.
Next morning, more water.
They closed the register. They pulled the water with a squeegee.
"What was flooding in dreams again? What did your grandma use to say?"
Amora knew that Jorge wanted to lighten up the mood. That was his worst trait.
"I think she would say it was a nightmare."
They decided not to shower that day and brush their teeth in the kitchen sink.
Next morning, they pulled the water with a squeegee.
Amora scattered coarse sea salt around the toilet and put rue herb leaves on the sink's countertop. She separated amethyst pendants for herself and her husband.
Next morning, they pulled the water with a squeegee.
The exorcist arrived that afternoon. He wasn't afraid. Three hail-marys. Five lord's-prayers. Holy water over the bathroom water.
They pulled the water with a squeegee.
The Pai de Santo arrived the next day. He cast his blessing over the couple.
"Where is all this fucking water coming from?" Jorge finally lost his temper.
The Pai de Santo bid them good luck.
"Are we just going to have to live with this?" Amora had already lost her hope.
The Pai de Santo bid them good luck again. He left.
They pulled the water with a squeegee.
This story was originally published in Portuguese in the late Revista Raimundo. If you like my work, you can pay me a coffee.