LAUREN SMALL
101
Later, sometime in the night, I had to go to the bathroom. I was
hot and sweaty; my nightgown clung to my legs. Drowsily I pushed my
feet to the floor and shumed down the hall. The door to the bathroom
was open; a silvery light came in through the window. I heard a thin,
whispering sound. The radio, I thought, sleepily. Still playing at Jeanie's
house.
I was about to go in when I saw my father, standing at the toilet,
peeing. The urine made a hushed, tinny sound as it fell in.
What was he doing there' He had his own bathroom; he never used
ours.
Was I dreaming? Moments passed. They must have been only sec–
onds, but they felt like hours. He stepped back, adjusted his pants. I told
myself to leave before he saw me, but I was stuck there, frozen, watching
him. Then his head turned. His eyes rested on me, dark and still, without
reaction or expression, as if he didn't see me. As if I wasn't there. But
how could he not see me? I was so close, only a few feet away. Slowly
his hand reached out, gripped the lever, and flushed the toilet.
With a hiss and a whoosh, the water rushed into the bowl - and in
that moment I was released. I ran back to my room, pulled up the sheet,
and closed my eyes tight. Soon I heard my father's footsteps in the hall.
For a brief second, he paused in front of my doorway. Then he was
gone.
The next morning, I lay in bed, until long past the time my father
and Rhoda left for work. Then I remembered it was Saturday and they
would be home all day. Finally hunger drove me to the kitchen. They
were sitting at the table, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. No
one said anything when I came in. As I poured myself a bowl of cereal,
my father studied the weather page in the newspaper. "Light winds, no
chop," he beamed at Rhoda. "Perfect."
My father and Rhoda often spent Saturdays on the lake with their
sailboat. Sailing, my father said, was one of the things he had to offer us
that our mother didn't. Ricky and I hated sailing. Ricky got seasick and
I got in the way. Somehow, whenever I was around, a sail would end
up trailing in the water or a thermos would sink to the bottom of the
lake.
Rhoda said, "Don't look at me. I've got work to do." So my fa–
ther decided to take
J~icky
and me sailing, alone. He would give us a
sailing lesson. "I'll turn you into sailors, yet," he said to me with a smile.
Rhoda packed a canvas bag with bologna sandwiches, potato chips,
kool-aid and beer. Soon Ricky and I were sitting in the car. As my fa–
ther backed down the driveway, I looked over at Jeanie's house. Their
newspaper had come undone and pieces of it were blowing across the
yard.
