“Well, anyhow,” Pick went on. “I wouldn’t sweat about any dream you have. I’ve had some crazy-ass dreams that don’t mean shit. Okay, bud?”
I nodded, and strangely enough, I felt better. Listening to the guys openly admit to having thoughts about other women while over half of them were in committed, faithful, monogamous relationships let me know I wasn’t as awful or alone as I thought. I was just a typical, flawed human.
Once again, I couldn’t sleep. Awake at two in the morning, I sat up in bed, turned on a night-light and began to write. I was quickly coming to realize the stories I wrote in the middle of the night were some of the craziest yet most colorful and eventful ideas I’d ever come up with.
So, I made me some hot chocolate and went to town. But as hot chocolate was wont to do, it went straight through me, so I had to pee before I could finish the last page of my short story.
My mind was elsewhere as I flushed, already planning out the final paragraphs. I didn’t even realize the water was overflowing until I was washing my hands and cold wet toilet water crept in over my toes.
Yelping out a startled scream, I jumped back and gaped in horror as it kept flowing over the toilet seat.
“Oh my God. No!” I leapt forward, not sure what to do, but the water didn’t stop flowing. Thinking there had to be a shut-off valve somewhere nearby, I peered behind the tank and tried to ignore the ick factor of more water covering my feet.
I was no plumber. I had no idea what did what, but I knew I had to do something, so I turned hard on the first lever-looking thing I found.
And the stupid thing came off in my hand.
Water spurted out the hole I’d just created and sprayed me right in the face. I gasped and lifted my hands to protect myself.
No way was I going to touch anything else after that. Soaking wet, I sprinted out of the bathroom and pounded on Cora’s door before shoving it open. “Cora! Cora?”
The light from the hallway splayed over an empty, neatly made bed.
Oh God. She couldn’t be gone now.
Trying to calm myself, I blew out a breath, but I could hear the water still drenching the bathroom. Water dripped off my face and coated my clothes as I raced barefoot from the apartment and down the hall to the elevator. I would’ve run the entire eight flights down, because I was in a running mood, but the elevator was faster...even though it felt like it took forever since I had to just stand there and wait for it to take me to the ground floor.
Henry, the faithful doorman, was not in his usual spot. I stared wide-eyed and gripped my head, not sure what to do now. I was sure there had to be a super somewhere in the building who could help me, but Cora had never told me who or where to go for emergencies like these.
So I had to ride the elevator back up to our apartment and find my cell phone in my room to call her. But her phone immediately went to voice mail.
She’d told me she was going to spend the evening with Quinn before she’d left earlier, so I didn’t even think. I called him next.
Surprisingly, he sounded awake when he answered on the second ring. “Hello?”
His voice sent a jolt through me, but I shook it off as quickly as possible. “Hi,” I rushed out. “I’m so sorry for waking you. It’s Zoey. I’m looking for Cora, but her phone’s turned off. Please tell me she’s still there.”
“Still...here?” he sounded vaguely confused. “She’s not with me if that’s what you’re asking. I thought she said she was doing something with you tonight. Everything okay?”
My roommate had lied. Again. What a surprise. But I had no time to dwell on that right now.
“Um...sure.” I cringed. “No, not really. I broke...something in the bathroom. Water is spraying everywhere, and I don’t know how to turn it off or where the number for our building’s superintendent is. Then Henry wasn’t at the front door. And Cora’s...” Who knew where Cora was.
“I’ll be right there.”
Even as my insides leapt with relief and joy, they shuddered with worry. Him, me, alone. Not such a good idea. “No, Quinn. You don’t have to—”
But he’d already hung up.
Well...
I scowled at the dead phone, but the sound of rushing water from the bathroom called my attention back to things at hand. So I hustled down the hall and peered in at the disaster. Everything inside was splattered and drenched.
Hoping to catch as much of it as possible, I dashed to the kitchen and threw open cupboards, looking for as many bowls and pots and pans as I could find.
Ten minutes later, I’d devised a system where I held a bowl right over the direct spray and could aim it to pour into a pan on the floor. When that one got full, I aimed it to the next pot in line beside it and tried to wrangle the full bowl into the bathtub with one hand to drain it. My arms were screaming in agony; I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep this up. So it was a relief to hear someone knock on the front door.