FALL 2005 SHORT FICTION CONTEST

SECOND PLACE WINNER

The Nonnegotiables

by Angel Rutledge

Standing in the bathroom, shoes soaked by a puddle of my own urine and feces, my first thought is, There goes my trip to Starbucks, quickly followed by, Do not scream out loud. You’ll wake Shelby for sure, and then you’ll really be sorry.

It is Saturday afternoon, which means David is home. Working, yes, but home nevertheless. If I strain, I can hear the gentle tapping against the keyboard coming from his office upstairs. Five minutes ago, David being here instead of out on an interview or at the newspaper’s main office meant that I’d be able to sneak out for a bit, the latest bestseller and Starbuck’s card in hand.

Now it simply means I can call him to help me clean up this mess or choose to take care of it myself. Either way, I’ll never get out of here in time. Shelby’s naps are an hour at best, and David’s on a deadline. He’ll need me to be here when she wakes.

I know every mother feels a need for time alone, but in the last two weeks, mine has become acute. Maybe it’s the long hours of David being away all weighing down on me at once or Shelby’s shift from two naps to one, or maybe it is a midlife crisis at age twenty-eight. Who knows? Whatever the reason, recently I have begun to fantasize about going out for coffee one day and then simply not returning.

Picking up the plunger by the wastebasket, I stick it in the toilet. This piece of junk porcelain has become more and more temperamental as of late, but this is a first. I cannot bring myself to call him. Asking a father to change his daughter when she’s pooped through yet another outfit is one thing, but asking him to clean up my ####? That is too much.

I push violently on the plunger over and over. This is Janie’s fault, I tell myself. Janie Havens. My college roommate. Ever since her visit a couple of weeks ago I have been fighting this restlessness.

“Are you going to marry him, Janie?” We sat across from each other in the living room.

She squeezed the couch pillow she had been stroking on her lap. “I don’t know. Maybe.” She looked at me from underneath her eyelids, her smile as large as I had ever seen it. “I just want to make sure he’s the one, you know?” Then, her face turning more serious, she asked, “How did you know, Kathleen?”

I laughed, feeling a sudden nervousness. Seven years had passed since David and I married. Did Janie want to hear that I’d fallen in love with him because he was noble and attractive, that he’d wanted to change the world, and my desire had been to join him?

Probably not. That much she already knew. She wanted specifics. “I’m not sure. I guess I just knew,” I said, fumbling for something more.

“But is David everything you hoped he’d be?” She leaned forward, tucking her feet underneath her. “I mean, the list you had before you got married of what the perfect husband would be like, how did you know which things you could let slide and which were nonnegotiable?”

My face must have shown my confusion.

“Kathleen, surely you had a list?”

The sucking noise from the toilet finally draining brings me back. But still, the question that has eaten away at me since Janie’s visit remains. Did I make the right choice? Her suspicion was right. I never had a list. But what if I had? What would have been on it? Plays guitar, watches classic movies on Sundays, makes crowds laugh at his jokes? Come to think of it, David sold his guitar to buy my engagement ring, and he’s never played since. Maybe we were too young to make such a big decision.

His voice from the doorway makes me jump. “What in the world happened?”

And now I realize that I’m crying. “The stupid toilet…I was just leaving…now it’s too late…I’m stuck here.” My tears have turned to sobs. “I didn’t want you to see it.”

David steps from the hall into the bathroom. He has white socks on, and I think, No, you’re going to step in it. But his arms are around me before I have time to warn him. “It’s okay, honey.”

I drop the plunger that is still in my hand and cling to him tightly. “How did you know, David? How did you know I was the one?”

He strokes my hair and laughs. “And I thought this was about a toilet.” He leans back and looks at me. “Some things you just know, Katie. Like how the sun is going to rise every morning. You and me being together…it just needed to happen.” He is good with words this way. It’s why he’s a writer. “You go. I’ll clean this up. You need some time away.”

I pull back. “No, this is disgusting. It’s my mess to clean. And Shelby. She’ll be up soon.” I move to grab some towels from under the cupboard. At least I have shoes on. How can he stand in this with only socks?

His hand is on my back. He reaches around and pulls the towels from me. “Go, Katie. I’ll take care of this. Shelby too when she wakes up.”

Turning to him, my mouth opens to argue, but then I see his face and know. He wants to do this for me. And I need him to. I stand up and remove my shoes before stepping into the hallway. “Thank you,” I say.

He nods, plunger already in hand, ready to attack the problem. “Stay as long as you want,” he says.

But I know I won’t be gone long.

Maybe I will call Janie while I’m out. She needs to add this to her list: Make sure he will clean up your ####. It’s a nonnegotiable.