Here’s my dilemma:
I have to pee. Urgently. Except we are less than one hour into our journey. Before we left the house, Noah made a big deal about how I should use the bathroom, and I told him I wasn’t a child who needed to be told to go before we took a trip. I retained my dignity, but now it seems that it came at a terrible cost. I’m worried one violent sneeze might result in a tragedy.
But how can I ask him to stop to use the bathroom? He’s going to say I told you so. And he’s not going to say it in a teasing way. He’s going to say it in a mean, patronizing way in front of four of my friends. And he will hold it over my head for the next several hours, if not for the rest of our lives.
I look at the gas gauge. It’s hovering a little below half. Maybe I can spin this.
“I think we should get some gas,” I announce.
Noah looks down at the gas gauge in astonishment. “What are you talking about? We have plenty of gas. The tank is half-full.”
“Well, it’s half-empty.” I cough. “And the minivan goes through gas really quickly. You don’t know, Noah. This is my car.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “You need to use the bathroom, don’t you?”
I let out a huff. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why are you so obsessed with me needing the bathroom?”
“Because…” His knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. “We’ve barely gotten on the highway and now we’re already going to have to stop. I told you to use the bathroom before we left. You always do this.”
“But I don’t need the bathroom. I think we should get some gas, that’s
all.”
“We can get gas in an hour or two when we stop for lunch.”
An hour or two? My bladder will have exploded by then. Why did I drink so much water with breakfast? “We don’t want to run out of gas on the highway.” I point to a sign on the road. “There’s a rest stop coming up. Let’s just get the gas.”
“So if I stop and get gas,” he says, “you’re going to stay with the car and not use the bathroom? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Well…” I can’t lie and pretend I’m not going to use the bathroom. Because he will absolutely watch me and make sure I don’t go. He will drive this point home, just out of spite. “I might use it if we stop…”
“You are so full of shit, Claire.”
Even though Rihanna is singing on the radio, the rest of the car is silent. Everyone is listening to this embarrassing argument. If we weren’t traveling at seventy miles per hour, I would open the door and jump out of this car right now.
“Actually,” Lindsay speaks up in a small voice, “I need to use the bathroom. Could we stop?”
At least Lindsay has my back. Noah glances behind his shoulder, then grumbles, “Fine.” Then he proceeds to cut across three lanes on the highway all at once, resulting in one near collision and a slew of angry horns. Apparently, Noah is trying to get us all killed during this trip.
I let Lindsay use the bathroom first, just to keep up the pretense of not actually needing the bathroom, even though I’ve got my legs crossed as I’m waiting outside the Porta-John behind the gas station. The whole time I’m fuming at Noah. We’re barely an hour into the drive, and he’s already making things miserable for everyone. This was a mistake—I should never have agreed to this trip. But thank God we have separate rooms. Even though he seems angry about it, I’ve never been happier about that decision. When I get out of the bathroom, Jack is waiting outside. He’s typing something on his phone, and he brushes a strand of his shaggy dark hair out of his eyes. He’s got a five o’clock shadow on his face, and it suits him—I always liked the way he looked with a little stubble. When he sees me, he
lifts his puppy dog brown eyes. “Hey,” he says.
“Hey,” I say.
He shoves his phone into the pocket of his jeans. “Are you okay, Claire?”
I drop my eyes. “Yeah.”
He glances around. The Porta-John is behind the gas station convenience store, hidden from the view of the gas pumps. My minivan is nowhere in sight. Everyone is probably back in the car by now. Or maybe buying snacks for the trip.
“He was being a real jerk to you,” Jack says.
“Yeah,” I agree. Even though Lindsay shot me a sympathetic look, it’s good to hear somebody else say it out loud. Sometimes I wonder if I’m partially at fault for the way Noah behaves. But no. I didn’t provoke what he did in the car. He was being a jerk to me for no reason.
“I’m sorry you have to deal with that,” he says. “Noah didn’t used to be like that. He’s changed.”
I nod. Jack knows my husband almost as well as I do. After all, they lived together before I lived with him. When we were in our twenties, Noah didn’t have a friend closer than Jack. But in the last few years, they’ve grown apart. Hell, we’ve only had dinner with Jack and Michelle a dozen or so times since Emma was born.
“You don’t deserve to be treated that way,” he says.
My breath catches in my throat as he takes a step toward me. “Well, what can I do?”
He shakes his head. “I wish it could be different.”
“Me too.” My voice is shaking. “You have no idea.”
He takes another step toward me, and this time he lowers his lips onto mine. I melt into him, allowing him to press me against the jagged brick wall of the convenience store.
“Did you get the separate room?” he breathes in my ear. “I sure did.”
“Perfect.” He grins at me, his eyes crinkling. “This is going to be a fantastic week. I’m going to make you forget all about him.”
And even though everyone is waiting for us back at the car, I let him kiss me again.
