It’s a good thing I’m not fussy because I had a messy disease of the bowel. I didn’t like the mess but it didn’t make me crazy the way it would have made a fussier person crazy. It was the pain that would have driven me mad. It hurt like hell. It could have killed me. The doctors said that I should have the whole thing cut out, so I did. My large intestine is gone. Less mess. Less pain. Now I’ve got a different problem. I’m afraid of public restrooms.
I hate to have to say this but the rest of the story makes no sense if I don’t. Here’s the thing: I cramp up easy. I uncramp hard and loud. Not having a large intestine is better than having a dirty bowel disease, less mess, less pain, but it’s not perfect. I make a lot of noise in the ladies’ room.
My girlfriend takes me to a movie at the mall. The popcorn we ate grabs me by the gut as we’re leaving. I walk into the restroom. There are two teenage girls sitting on stools in front of a long mirror, making their hair big, giggling at the two teenage girls who are shining opposite them from across the faucets. Pretty girls with perfumed hair, ready to laugh at me. I try not to take it personally. They’ve been waiting to laugh at anything besides themselves.
My girlfriend walks in behind me. She’s a fussy person. She hates it when I dump the popcorn out of the box and eat it right off my lap, even though I usually spread out my napkin first. She washes her hands before she uses the toilet. When she’s done, she looks up at the girls in the mirror. She uses a paper towel to turn off the faucet. She turns to me and sees me frozen in front of one of the bathroom stalls. She says, “Look at your jeans. It’s really hard to get that oily stuff out.” Then she leans into me and whispers, “Don’t worry about a thing.”
There are five empty stalls. She swings open the doors of four, walks into one leaving the stall door open. She bends at the waist and flushes. The girls in the mirror trade glances and giggle. My girlfriend walks into another stall, bends at the waist and flushes. The girls giggle more. I walk through the fifth door, safe in the sound she’s creating.
It was a good movie. Outside, people read reviews that are taped to the wall. They wait in the long line patiently to see the show, not knowing that art is being created in the ladies’ room. She bends at the waist and flushes.
