Page 35 of The Path to Loving Him
“Is there water coming out of the sink?” she asks.
I turn the knob for the sink, and water drips out, just enough to wash my hands and brush my teeth, but it’s not a steady flow.
“Uh, a little.”
“What about the toilet? When you flush it, does water move?”
When did Bower become a plumber?
I flush the toilet and watch it refill.
“Yeah, that’s working.”
“What about the kitchen?”
I head out of the bathroom and straight to the kitchen, where I turn on the water and watch it flow slowly.
“Yeah, that’s working. So what does that mean?”
She shrugs. “How the hell should I know? I’m not a plumber.”
“Jesus, Bower. I thought you knew what you were doing.”
“Nope, just interested if there is water coming out of places. Which makes me wonder, can you see water coming out of any walls?”
Hell, I didn’t even think about that. I look around in a quick panic. When everything comes up dry, I let out a deep breath and shake my head. “No.”
“Fascinating. Well, good luck with that. I’m sure you smell great after that long workout immersed in the briny salt air.”
“Bower, you can’t just check out.”
“Why not? This isn’t my problem. I can’t do anything from afar other than annoy you with suggestions as to what you might smell like right now.”
She’s right about the annoying part.
“You need to help me problem solve.”
“Okay,” she says. “How about this? You walk over to your landlord, tell him your shower isn’t working, and make him fix it.”
“I can’t do that,” I say as I lean against my kitchen counter, feeling defeated.
“Um, you realize that’s what landlords are for, right? They fix things in your place when they’re broken.”
“He just moved in today, Bower. Also . . . I sort of told him that I wasn’t going to need him for anything.”
“Well, that was dumb.”
I roll my eyes. “How did I know the shower wasn’t going to work?” It was of course working fine before I spouted off about not ever needing Ryland . . . for anything.
“That’s what they call karma. You say you don’t need him, then bam, you now have to go up to Daddy Landlord and ask him for help.”
“Do not call him that.”
“Sorry . . . Daddy Coach? Or Coach Daddy?”
“No daddy!” I shout, then drag my hand over my face. “You were right. You are not the person to be talking to right now.”
“Told you.”
