Free The Waterproof Bible by Andrew Kaufman Page B

unit #207 and put the keys in the large box marked FAILURES. It was because of this act, and how quickly she performed it, that no one, not even Stewart, ever knew how much pain, grief and sorrow his leaving caused her.
    Rebecca set the keys back inside the box marked FAILURES, then began putting all the other objects back. When everything was assembled, she pulled a white piece of paper from the pocket of her jeans. It was on this paper that Rebecca had written her sister’s eulogy, the one focused on the Moving Out memory, which she’d judged useless when those emotions had evaporated. She put it in the box, closed the lid and then restacked the boxes on top in the same order.
    Turning, Rebecca looked at the tallest stack in the back row, where the drip continued to land. The stack was almost exactly as tall as she was. Standing on her tiptoes, Rebecca could see the lid sagging on the top box. She tried to open it, but a piece of cardboard came off in her hand. As Rebecca lifted the box off the stack, the bottom sagged. She supported the bottom with her left arm and set the box on the cement floor. It was only then that she noticed the label: LISA REYNOLDS TAYLOR .
    Rebecca crouched down and opened the box. Inside were photographs, letters and journals. Everything was from her sister. All of it was paper. The notes in Lisa’s handwriting were smeared. The photographs had separated from the paper they were printed on. Ticket stubs were unreadable, and pages of books were bloated. Every box in the stack was marked LISA REYNOLDS TAYLOR , and all of them were waterlogged.
    Rebecca looked back at the open box on the floor, continuing to study the ruined objects until she heard Zimmer’s footsteps coming down the hall. Looking over her shoulder, she saw him in the doorway. He carried a red plastic bucket and pulled a large, industrial garbage can on wheels. Stepping into the storage space, Zimmer walked past Rebecca and placed the bucket on top of the Lisa stack. A drop splashed into the empty pail, making a hollow plastic sound. Rebecca pushed her hands under the waterlogged box marked LISA REYNOLDS TAYLOR. She stood up. She carried it out of the storage space and dropped it into the garbage can. She and Zimmer leaned over the top, looking down at the letters and papers that had spilled out of the box.
    Rebecca went back inside unit #207, took the redpail off the stack and carried all the boxes out to the hall, dropping them into the garbage can. When she had finished, Rebecca set the bucket on the floor, where it continued to catch the drip. She turned off the light and stepped into the hall.
    “It could have been much worse,” Rebecca said.
    “But it’s still sad,” Zimmer said.
    “It isn’t, Edward,” Rebecca said, surprising herself. Grabbing the door of unit #207, Rebecca closed it. She locked the padlock. Zimmer put his hand on Rebecca’s shoulder. Together, they walked towards the elevator, the plastic wheels of the garbage can squeaking through the empty hallways of E.Z. Self Storage.

11
The taste of forgiveness
    Leaving Edward Zimmer to take the water-damaged boxes to the Dumpster, Rebecca drove home and, three blocks from her front door, she felt a pain in her chest. It was severe, but by the time she’d pulled over it was gone. Her hands remained shaky, and she was suddenly quite tired. She felt confident that she could make it home, but her fatigue worsened as she drove.
    Having parked her car on a side street behind her house, Rebecca was so tired that she was barely able to unlock her front door, and she fell asleep the moment she reached the couch.
    She saw herself sitting at the kitchen table in the Toronto apartment Lisa had shared with Lewis, but whether she was dreaming or remembering was impossible to tell. She was dressed in flannel pyjamas patterned with tiny ducks. They were children’s pyjamas, but they fit Rebecca well. She watched as her sister made breakfast. Lisa put two slices of bread