I’m not going to the memorial. It is going to be the epitome of what I appreciated least about my brother-in-law: crowds, loud irreverent choir, lots of over-the-top adulation, performances and Judy Collins closing the event. I would like to see her. But, another time.
I haven’t closed the deal yet. But time is crowding in. Requests for my time on that day. Things more fun, more intimate.
So, I text my nephew to see when he is coming in with his family from LA. I so want to cuddle and converse with sparkly 4-year-old Declan. Do NOT want to miss that.
Cormac answers me right away having just landed at Newark. We text back and forth, dates. I study my calendar determined to find a time to go to NYC for the day …instead of the memorial. Doing my own thing. Trying to tolerate the discomfort.
All this in running through my mind and body, focused on this sucking demanding little bit of an iPhone. Like I have stepped inside it, the outside world fading away like the end of a movie.
When…..I look up to notice bubbles floating over the edge of the kitchen sink, making a sweet trickling sound like a slow gurgling water fall. Floating up and over down to the floor, acting like it is totally innocent, a multiplying cloud of activated dish soap. The Sorcerer’s Apprentice comes to mind. Onto the floor spreading like a virus.
I immediately spring into action, a lioness pouncing on prey.
PTSD! Months ago I plugged the sink, started the water to fill it, turned to that insidious phone, and fell asleep only to be awakened by a desperate call from Jeannette, the building Manager. My overflowing sink was flooding the Japanese restaurant below.
To the point of… they had to replace part of the ceiling.
Now, Jeannette can be nice. And she can be a demanding so and so. I’m a little scared of her. I waited for the blame, the raise in rent, the bill and nothing came. Ever since I have not left the kitchen while filling the sink.
Until today.
But, again?? Will she kick me out? Declare me incompetent?
In a flurry, I remove the soaking boxes of baking soda, melting detergent sheets, dish soap and many other things. Throw 5 towels on the floor and under the sink. Remembering that last time she told me to put something on the floor under the sick so nothing leaks on it. Which I never did. The wood is starting to curdle. I leave my hair dryer going to obliterate the tell-tale damp.
Blowing a fuse.
I trip, or untrip (whatever it is called when you fix it) the fuse, put everything back like nothing ever happened, cleaning the kitchen floor in the process. Now to wait for the call, the end of my residence in this choice spot on Broadway near the river.
It has been 2 hours and silence. I can breathe again.
I love your tone, the rhythms of the staccato sentences matching the feelings of avoiding the memorial, fear of another flooding fiasco - so real and funny. "focused on this sucking demanding little bit of an iPhone." the so and so...the final line that slows things down, so we can breathe again.
ReplyDeleteOMG I have SO been there done that and sympathise and feel your fear - you carried us right along with the soap and the terror of it happening AGAIN. I've done the SAME THING TWICE to my downstairs neighbour from my bathtub twice and once from kitchen sink that almost blew HIS fuse.FIVE TOWELS!! Yes and what a mess. I'm laughing at the way you wrote it but my heart goes to to you waiting for the hatchet to fall!!
ReplyDeleteSo many great phrases and lines here! For instance...."the outside world fading away like the end of a movie," ..... the innocence of the sweet little waterfall from the sink....a lioness pouncing on her prey....and more!
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