The Ganymede Bathhouse

The radio was turned down when he entered the bathhouse, and he recalled the fact that it had been at a roaring volume when he had left the bathhouse nearly an hour ago. He also recalled the fact that when he had left, the radio had been playing quick and bombastic classical tunes. Now, the radio was playing easy jazz. He could barely detect the sounds of light symbols and piano chords. 

The bathhouse was empty, as it had been when he left. The bathhouse consisted of a large central bath, at a hot but not scorching temperature, with a grand total of thirteen baby angel statues at the perimeters. Five of the statues released water from their marble urethras. The water was a chlorine blue, with a few remaining bubbles at the outer edges. Behind the clear, thermal pool and opposite the front door, there was a small tub for short term ice cold plunges. There was a timer on the edge of the tub that blared loudly once a minute of the plunge passed, and the alarm wouldn’t shut off until it had detected that the bather had removed themselves from the tub. 

To the left of the central pool was the men’s changing room, and to the right was the women’s changing room. In one of the back corners of the house was a unisex sauna. The radio was resting on a white kitchen chair, with the antenna reaching high up to the ceiling, extended at least three feet. There was an ice pop stand, and a soft drink and water stand set up directly next to it. 

The atmosphere was the same as he had left it, with the same pregnant pauses, and air of anticipation. The loaded gun was on the other side of the pool, propped on another white kitchen chair, and aimed at the open window. All the other windows in the bathhouse were shut tightly, to keep out the howling wind. The one window in question, the one that the loaded rifle was aiming at, still had pieces of broken glass poking out at the edges. 

He wasted no time in hopping to attention and canvassing the place. He started by walking around the central pool to the back room with the ice plunge tub. He moved from that room to the still simmering sauna, which he also found to be empty, and then he moved to the women’s changing room and tried each one of the doors to ensure none of the doors were locked and none of the spaces occupied. He had locked the front door when he entered the Ganymede bathhouse, he reminded himself, and he had placed a sign on the front door that read “Closed for Repairs”. He moved from the women’s changing room to the men’s changing room and tried each one of the doors. 

Securing the area, he walked back to the principal area with the pool, up to the radio, and turned it off. He picked up the radio and threw it into the pool. He picked up the kitchen chair and carried it over to the other end of the pool where the loaded rifle was. He set the white kitchen chair next to the other one and took a seat. He waited there in the seat and stared at the wall for a full four minutes. Listening to the pregnant pauses. Listening to the vibrations of electric anticipation. 

He took off his clothes, piece by piece, until he was just down to his boxer shorts. Leaving his clothes there on the floor, he walked to the ice tub and eased himself into the frigid waters. He breathes slowly in and out, in and out, deeply. Bracing his entire body until the timer went off. 

He eased himself out of the ice tub, continuing to work at managing his breathing, and walked over to the loaded rifle. He picked up the rifle, and held it carefully so that it was pointing directly at the open window. He continued to work at managing his breathing, deep and even ins and outs, ins and outs. He was laser focused on the blue skies seen from the broken window looking outside. And then, he began to see the great orange balloon edging into view. 

Deep and calm and even breaths, in and out, in and out. 

Bang! 

A pinprick of blood appeared in the upper right hand corner of his white shirt, and he fell to his knees. He collapsed face forward onto the granite pool floor. The bleeding begin to spread, to flower, and the electric air of anticipation that he had first heard vanished.