One and Only

Chapter 4 - City Creek

When I woke the next morning, there was an Andy-sized hole in the bed next to me, and I could hear the sounds of breakfast, and of Max attempting to abscond with said breakfast, in the kitchen. I rolled over and looked at the alarm clock (which, oddly, I never used as an alarm, preferring to use my phone in the kitchen instead) next to my bed. It was 10:37! Hardly surprising, given that I had stayed up until well past 12:30 finishing my notes, reviewing results, and answering patient messages and telephone calls. I stretched diagonally across the bed, touching my toes to the far corner and the tips of my hands past the light on my bedside table. Rolling over, I looked down at my feet, steadied myself, then stood and walked into the bathroom.

Shutting the door, I realized that a certain dilemma was upon me. I had to take a serious shit. You'd think that with all of our slumber parties, Andy and I would've crossed this bridge already, but somehow that hadn't happened, at least not that I could remember, for either of us. Either he had left early, or I hadn't needed to go, or maybe I had held it a little bit and waited until I got to work just to delay the inevitable a little bit longer.

I looked in the bathroom mirror. My hair was a mess, and the eyeliner that I sometimes wore to work was smudged. I was a cross between Bellatrix Lestrange and Princess Merida from the Disney animated movie Brave. I laughed at myself, recalling Zack's sage advice, "everybody poops." With no more preamble, I sat down on the toilet and performed my necessary evacuatory functions. What I had failed to do, however, is lock the bathroom door. So when Andy knocked, and then walked in after a second, I practically screamed out.

He chuckled, shutting the door, and said, "God, sorry Jen, I thought you were still in bed."

Waves of embarrassment flooded me. Had he known what I was doing? Was he disgusted by the smell? Did I have the smelliest poop in all the land?

I laughed then at my own ridiculousness. And also at the evolution of our relationship. I'm not sure one would measure relationship milestones in this way, but it seemed non-trivial to me that we were now pooping in front of each other. Well, if not 'in front of' at least with some degree of proximity, and for this, I felt a little proud and also a little embarrassment.

"I'm almost done," I called out, hurrying to wipe methodically, flush and then replacing the toilet seat. It had been a rather large dump, and to my horror there was a little streak of shit stuck to the bottom of the bowl that would not flush. Instantly I was paralyzed. If I flushed again, to try to get the streak to go down he would think that I was having diarrhea or the most colossal stool in the history of man. If I left it there, then he would have to stare at my shit stain the next time he peed. My mind began racing at the possibilities and was startled when he knocked again.

"Sorry to bother you, but I really have to use the bathroom, any chance you're finishing up?" he said, from behind the closed door.

I panicked, what was I going to do? It seemed silly to keep him out of the bathroom due to a submerged fleck of feces, but at the same time, it also just seemed so unladylike.

"Andy?" I said, walking up to the door, but not touching it, as I had not yet washed my hands.

"Jen?" he said closely, clearly, he was just on the other side of the door.

"Andy, I have a predicament and I want your thoughts on how I should handle it," I said, deciding that airing the facts was the most ridiculous way to proceed, and what was I if not a connoisseur of the absurd.

"So, we've reached a small milestone," I said, my voice trembling just barely, "I have taken a shit while you're still here. The problem is that there is a little bit of a streak left and I am embarrassed for you to see it."