The PVC glue had dried and all that needed to be done now was to connect the garden hose. The plastic shower stood at the bottom of a daringly short flight of concrete steps leading from the backyard, and the July sun was like a glamorous city skylight on the yellow- green algae of the walls.
I put my glass of white wine on the third step up and covered myself with patchouli soap. I missed the country.
The week had been like a celebrity biography, in which the subject takes half a year to do nothing—to shop, stay with friends in France, or read. Playlist followed playlist, sunset (with the sound of couples quietly talking in row boats) followed sunset, and I was never too full or too tired or too drunk. We played cards late into the night and once as I went to bed I saw daylight rising from behind the cedars, the color of fresh blueberries.
I had quit my life but my young companions regarded me—spoke to me, waited for me to reply. I lost a little weight without trying to. I won a couple of the rounds of cards. I took my arms away from my face where I had braced them, waiting for my life to crash—to flip over into the Delaware canal on a rainy night, trapping me in the back seat with my memories.
But this shower was a surprise, like a new friend or a wad of bills found in the hamper. After the sixth week of not hearing from the plumber, Gary plopped it down over the French drain with a chic little teak-wood platform and a dish for soap. After 22 years of baths in the old tub, ringed by a motley row of tiles and blackening caulk, the shower was a treat.
It stood tall in the cellar way with the top of its white neck bent like a swan's.
I dusted off my ego and started steaming vegetables and exercising again. For the first time in years, I stood at the mirror and looked long at my face, trying to recognize myself in it. Something about the jaw was different—the spine of a book that has been fully read, laid aside.
I have come back.
1 comment:
I loved the descriptions (although the reference to Jessica was a bit oblique). I already commented on the black grout description (a lot of people like our bathroom). I found it passively calm with the strongest emphasis on the desire to be you again.
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