Flow
by Joshua Scribner
Nola pushed and pushed, but it wasn’t coming out. The load in her midsection seemed to be growing, and hemorrhoids were starting to flare. The situation had begun last night, right before she went to bed, when all the parts of her were usually functional.
“A hot shower,” she whispered to herself. “That’ll loosen things up.”
She stood and opened the shower door. She looked down at the last shower’s water.
“Damn! The drain’s clogged.”
She shut the door and pulled up her pants. She needed coffee, some of that really tough stuff they served at the gas station down the street. That would get her going. She walked hunched over into the hall and then into the living room.
Travis was asleep on the couch. She took a little pride in that she’d put him there. He could go on thinking he was right, or he could get back into his bed.
She was smiling, even though she was in great pain, as she walked out the front door. She wasn’t quiet shutting that door, and she relished the idea of coming back with a coffee for her and having nothing for him.
Their little rental was right on the highway. She wondered what she must look like to the many passersby, a young woman hunched over like an old lady. She hoped no one would stop and offer help, but she grinned thinking about how fun it would be to lie and say he’d hit her. Maybe he’d get his ass kicked then. She knew she wouldn’t really like that, but the thought was still fun.
She made it into the gas station and aimed herself at the pots. She stopped and gaped in horror at the “Out of order” sign.
“No coffee!” she exclaimed.
The counter girl looked up from a newspaper and said, “I’m not sure what’s wrong. I think something’s blocking the flow of the water supply.”
She wondered if maybe an energy drink would have the same effect. She could use it to wash down a laxative. They probably had individual packets of those here.
She stopped thinking of these things, though. Something about what the counter girl had said was stuck in her head, resonating. She decided she could take another quick trip to the store later, if necessary. She turned and walked out the door. The pressure inside her was still increasing.
She made it home and resisted the urge to go straight to the bathroom. Travis was sitting up on the couch, staring emptily. She sat down beside him.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I never should have yelled at you while you were writing. I promise I’ll never break the flow of a story again.”
His expression did not change. She knew her apology would have to sit for a while. She had to go, though. She was fairly certain it was ready to come out.
She was surprised to hear what he said as she rushed away.
“No big deal. The story was crap anyway.”
Joshua Scribner is the author of the novels The Coma Lights and Nescata. His fiction won both second and fifth place in the 2008 Whispering Spirits Flash Fiction contest. Up to date information on his work can be found at joshuascribner.com. Joshua currently lives in Michigan with his wife and two daughters. Contact Joshua..
