Arthur and I talked for another hour in his bedroom, and then I limped back down the hall to the guest room to get ready for bed. I grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste from my bag and headed to the bathroom.
The bathroom is quite fancy. There is an elegant, carved porcelain bathtub in the corner and the sink is made of the same white marble as the downstairs entrance hall. The toilet is black. The entire time I was sitting on it the only thing I could think of was that trolls were going to come out of it at any second to grab me and pull me in.
After I made use of the facilities I went over to the sink to wash my hands. I twisted the faucet and water gurgled out of the tap. There was one slight problem though. My fingers got stuck to the faucet handle.
Have you ever super glued your fingers together? I did once when I was a kid, after I smashed the urn containing my mother's favorite cat's ashes. I was trying to glue it back together before she could walk in and see what I'd done. After she finished yelling at me she took me to the doctor so he could cut my fingers apart. Anyway, that's what it felt like now, with my hand stuck to the faucet.
I tried to pry my fingers from the metal with my free hand but they wouldn't budge. The rational part of my brain was trying to tell me that there was nothing to worry about; that things like this probably happen all the time, and that it is perfectly normal to get stuck to sink faucets. The less rational part of my brain suggested that maybe Arthur's mother had put super glue on the tap as some kind of sick joke.
"Let me go," I hissed at the faucet, but it didn't release my hand. I gave a tug. There was a ripping sound, like Velcro. I didn't know if that was the sound of my skin ripping off or the faucet, but as I didn't feel any pain I thought it was safe to try it again. I gave another almighty tug, throwing all of my weight back against the faucet in an effort to free myself.
The good news was that it worked. The handle popped off, so I wasn't trapped to the sink anymore.
The bad news was that the loose handle was still stuck to my hand, and now water was exploding out of the broken faucet in every direction; drenching the ceiling, the tile floors, and the expensive looking wallpaper.
Panicking, I shook my hand feverishly while scrambling for some towels. With a particularly violent shake the faucet handle unstuck from my hand, flew through the air, hit the wall, and clanged loudly to the floor before rolling under the clawed feet of the bathtub. I quickly pulled a towel from the rack above the toilet and threw it on top of the open pipe in an attempt to stifle the water flow. There was too much of it; it soaked through the towel and onto the floor, which was now rapidly pooling with water.
"No, stop!" I glared at the broken faucet. It didn't obey my orders.
I looked around for some more towels. There weren't any within immediate reach, so I seized the toilet paper roll instead. I tore off a large wad and tried to stuff it into the open pipe like a cork, but the current was too strong. The toilet paper simply wouldn't hold. I dropped the roll and splashed over to the bathtub. I fished the faucet handle from beneath it, then hurried back to the sink. I moved too fast. I slipped on a wet tile and fell. The breath was knocked out of me and water sprayed me in the face.
There was a knock on the door.
"Ethan?" came Arthur's voice, "Can I borrow your toothpaste? I forgot mine."
"Yes!" I gasped, struggling to my feet. "Just- hang on, one second-"
I hauled myself back up and shoved the handle onto the open tap. It wouldn't screw back on. In my desperation I tried to hammer it on with my fist, and it clanged loudly against the metal pipe.
"What are you doing?" Arthur asked. He sounded suspicious.
"I'm peeing!" I shouted. It was the first thing I could come up with.
"If that's the case, there is something seriously wrong with your bladder," came the mutter from the other side of the door.
"Stupid- thing- fix!" I growled at the tap. There was a sudden flash of light and a burning sensation in my fingers. I withdrew my hand in shock, expecting to see my fingers blistering- but the skin was unblemished. I turned back to the sink. The spout of water had stopped, and a closer inspection of the faucet confirmed that the tap had seamlessly sewn itself back onto the broken metal pipe.
It was almost as if nothing had happened at all. How very strange.
With a sigh of relief I grabbed my toothpaste and threw open the door. Arthur was standing just outside. His eyes roved over the dripping ceiling and walls, to the deep puddle on the floor and lingered on the soggy toilet paper roll. He raised an eyebrow.
"Oh... I had a bit of an accident," I lamely began to explain.
Arthur sighed, then shook his head.
"You know what, I don't even want to know," he said, and squeezed some of my toothpaste onto his toothbrush.
"Whatever you're thinking, it isn't it," I said.
"What a man does in his free time is his own business-" began Arthur.
"No! You've got the wrong idea. It was the sink-" I protested.
"Whatever you say, Ethan," said Arthur dismissively with a smirk. He turned and stalked from the room. A door slammed.
It took me about twenty minutes to dry the bathroom. I used all of the towels I could find, and even one of the pillows from the pillow closet. When I was done I left them and the toilet paper roll in the bathtub. I felt unexplainably exhausted. I hopped back to the bed on my good leg and collapsed on top of the sheets. Without even drawing the blankets back, changing out of my sopping clothes, or kicking off my shoes, I fell into a deep slumber.
Morning came quickly.
It was the maid who woke me up. She snuck into my room early to tidy up. I'm a light sleeper though so I heard her come in. I pretended to be asleep when she wandered into the bathroom. She emerged a minute later carrying the wet towels and pillow, and through my squinted eyelashes I caught a glimpse of her face. She looked very confused. I didn't move until I heard the door close and her footsteps clip back down the hallway. Then I decided to climb out of bed.
YOU ARE READING
The Institution
FantasySocially awkward Ethan Montgomery never expected his freshman year of college to be easy, but he has to admit that even by his low expectations things are getting quite out of hand. Because that’s the way things tend to go when you’re juggling newf...
