Anecdote
The day after my wedding I broke a glass in the bathtub. It shattered into three large pieces, and then into six million smaller shards, carpeting the the bottom of the tub. I’d craved that hot soapy bath for three damn days, and when the glass smashed against the side and the pieces sunk to my feet, I didn’t flinch. I didn’t even sigh. I just squatted over the water and then opened the drain, shoveling the glass down the hole with my bare hands.
I’d read a book where the main character was killed by a glass-laced hamburger. It wasn’t the same thing, I decided. I wasn’t going to swallow the glass, not on purpose. So I waited until I didn’t feel it anymore and refilled the tub with lukewarm water. I spent twenty minutes sitting stiffly, thinking about glass in my hair and my stomach and my face, too afraid to use the soap.
But wouldn’t it be funny to walk out of the bathroom bloody. Face all cut up from a stupid water glass. Who brings water glasses into the bathtub, anyway. Not grown-ups. Not that funny, this type of thing, anymore. In the living room Chris asked if I cut myself shaving. There was a small spot on my ankle, just above the bone. Yep, I replied. That’s what happens when you don’t shave in three months, am I right? You forget how to hold the damn razor. I forgot how to do it, can you believe it, all of it, so clumsy, the whole thing.
Posted by: Zosia | 12-22-2006 | 01:12 AM
Posted in: General | Comments Off
