The Bathroom That Roared

The toilet roared before she was done. She was off the seat and at the door in one move, both hands flat against it like she could hold it shut from the wrong side. Pants at her ankles. Face white.

have you ever felt this way too?

It's just water, I said. It won't bite you. Come on, look, there's nothing there, quick. I even flushed it again to show her, see, harmless. That was the wrong move. The more I proved it, the harder she pushed into that door, like I was the one who couldn't be trusted.

So I stopped talking and got down on the floor next to her. That thing roared right when you weren't ready, huh. I put her hand on the little button and mine over it. I've got this part now. It can't go off by itself. Nothing happens until you say the word.

She didn't let go of my hand. But she watched the bowl instead of the door. And after a long minute, small and steady, she said it. Now.