2. Rory
Rory
There have been just a handful of times in my life that I’ve felt more embarrassed.
I knew something like this could have happened, but I’d done it anyway.
The proper way would have been to snake the pipes first. Make sure any trapped water pressure would release, but I’d been too rash.
Too confident, and now I was laying in shit— strangers’ shits which was all the worse.
“Are you… okay?” Maeve asked.
I sat up slowly. My head was killing me. There had been so much pressure pulling the pipe off, I’d been thrown back, and my head cracked against the tile.
“I’m okay,” I said, rubbing at the back of my skull. I wasn’t bleeding. I almost wished I was because the pulsing ache in my head was almost too much to bear.
“No, you’re not. How hard did you hit it? Do you have a concussion?”
I smiled. It had been a long while since a woman doted on me. I’d forgotten how much I liked it.
“I’ll be okay. I’d take that shower if you have it but might need to spray me off first in the alley. Wouldn’t want to stain your shower.”
She had a small dimple on the side of her right cheek when she smiled, just under a collection of brown freckles. And then she laughed. It was a big belly laugh, one that was infectious. I laughed, though not as loud or as boisterous, but just as relieved.
Finally, wiping her eyes free of tears, she said, “I didn’t realize how much I needed that laugh. Come on.”
She took me through a side door into a back alley and grabbed a hose from the neighboring business. “They won’t mind,” she said it more to herself then me, then said, “You should probably take off…”
She gestured toward my trousers, and I obliged. Really, I should just throw them away, but the rest of my clothes were back at my hotel, so I folded them carefully and stood, bracing myself and closed my eyes, but the water wouldn’t come.
I opened my eyes to see Maeve looking at me, brow furrowed.
“Are you alright?” I asked.
She nodded at my left calf to my tattoo— lyrics from one of my favorite songs, “Angelica.”
“Wet Leg is one of my favorite bands. That song is actually what got me into music,” she said.
“Yeah, Wet Leg is great. I got this tattoo when I was in a band about fifteen years ago. When I played drums more often. What do you play?” I asked.
She blushed, then shook her head. “Oh, I don’t play anymore.”
Before I could ask more, she’d switched on the hose and the sudden shock of cold silenced my brain to anything else. I gasped, and shuddered, but when she stopped, I shook my head.
“Keep it coming.”
I ignored the chill in my bones, then picked up the soap and washed.
It wasn’t exactly a shower, and I wasn’t exactly naked, but I could’ve been for how vulnerable Maeve’s eyes made me feel.
It was like she was inspecting me. Studying me, like I was some frog in a biology class; she opened me up and poked around my insides.
The water stopped, and Maeve said, “You’re freezing.” She threw a towel over me. “I’ve got a shower upstairs on a separate water tank. You can warm up with that.”
I wanted to argue because I didn’t need her help.
After all, I had a perfectly good hotel shower calling my name— in a room where I had clean clothes.
Normally, people relied on me. It was why I’d been happy to fix up Maeve’s wall.
Between my brother and I, I was the one who fixed things.
Got everything back to working order. It was because of me that when we bought a business or property that the place worked.
But without much more than soaking underwear on, I wasn’t exactly in a spot to negotiate, so I followed her up a set of rickety steps and toward a big thick wooden door, one I wouldn’t be surprised was older than the bar downstairs.
Maeve led me through her apartment and into a small bathroom. “The water is a little wonky. If you want hot, you’ll need to switch the faucet to cold. Let me know if you need anything.”
She closed the door behind her, and I was left standing in the bathroom, shivering.
It took me a moment to switch on the water, and even longer to step inside as I waited for the shower to heat up. When it did, I stripped myself of boxers and the towel and stepped within the welcoming embrace of warmth. I washed myself slowly, letting both the day and the trip wash off me.
And the responsibility of what I needed to do next, despite how much I disliked it.