I just wanted to use the bathroom

I just wanted to use the bathroom. That's all I wanted. I'd been walking around aimlessly for hours by then, and I was kind of lost, and I needed to use the bathroom. Had I a bit more spine, I would have simply peed in some street corner, or a bush, and been done with it. Well, had I more spine, none of this would have happened anyway.

I chose a harmless-looking cafe for my needs. That was an important criteria, for I sure wasn’t going to enter any scary places “for the locals” or some such. Of course, I simply needed to use the bathroom, in-and-out in 5 minutes, but still.

At first, things seemed promising. The place was nearly empty, save for a woman in a booth and the owner behind the bar. Oh, and a sleeping man in a different booth. All seemed peaceful.

Of course, I immediately noticed that the woman was quietly sobbing; and the owner made very sure he wouldn't look at her, anywhere but her, save for the mean glances he still couldn't help but shoot her from time to time; and the man in the corner reeked of alcohol. It was 11 in the morning, you know. I noticed all of that, but it didn't seem important at the time. I was only there to pee, after all.

I approached the owner by the bar. I had no real reason to think he was the owner; he just didn't have a wage-earning, regular-hours energy to him, you know? I politely waited an appropriate amount of time for him to acknowledge me on his own, and he didn't. So then I coughed softly, and then again, and then said, "Excuse me, please," and then I had to say, louder, "Sorry to disturb you," and only then did he finally glare at me as if I'd crashed his wedding. That largely set the tone for our subsequent relationship.

"How can I help ya?" He spewed the words very unhelpful-like. I must admit, such rudeness may be trivial, a trifle, really, but it knocks me out of balance. When met with unwarranted hostility, I get this weird subconscious urge to, I guess, endear myself to that person, win their favour, sort of. I asked him for a menu, as politely and smoothly as I could. He grunted back that they don' gots one. That derailed the whole conversation, as it's hard for me to go off-script like that in a social setting. How can they not have a menu? After a pause, I just stammered out, "Whatchu gots then?"

Now, in hindsight, I can see how that may have come across as rude, antagonistic even. It's another silly trait of mine — I'm very good at adapting to others' accents or strange ways of speaking. It’s almost instinctive. I read somewhere businessmen use it as a negotiating strategy; I think I do it just to please. Regardless, many people really don't like it and think I'm mocking them. Klaus was one of them, unfortunately (the owner's name was Klaus, by the way).

Well, Klaus finally levelled his gaze at me and, boy, I wished he hadn't. He's got that heavy, withering stare you read about in books; knows how to hold a pause, too. After a bit I squirmed a little, half out of an actual need to do so, half out of a desire to satisfy the man so we could move on. He was satisfied, and even smirked, which I didn't appreciate one bit, if you don't mind me saying, and told me, "We've gots beer, wine, tea, hard liquor, coffee. We'se a cafe." No further details were forthcoming.

Now, I admit it was foolish, but next I said, "I'll have a tea. What kind you's gots?" See, I can't help it sometimes, even if I know it's a bad idea. Instead of a response, he just grunted and disappeared through a doorway in the back.

I was dismayed at that whole interaction. The only reason I asked for a menu was to order something cheap before inquiring about a bathroom, for there was no way in hell I was walking into a cafe and asking to use a bathroom for free. No, sir, I have some manners and courtesy to me, some common human decency like that.

But now he'd vanished before I could ask about a bathroom, and the way he vanished seemed like he'd gone to fetch a baseball bat to teach me — a ruffian giving him lip at 11 in the morning — a lesson or something. And even if he'd just gone for tea, it was still bad. I didn't want to drink anything. I wanted to pee.

Then I heard Mary sobbing; Mary was the woman's name. Once Klaus left she must have stopped holding it together and really started the waterworks. I was alone with her now, save for the drunk. What do I do? Stand there and ignore her till Klaus comes back? I don't have the heart for that.

Now, talking to women in the best of circumstances is a tall order for me, and these were indeed dire circumstances, so I didn't do a very good job of it. I just approached, stood there hesitatingly in case she addressed me first, and then stammered out, "He-hey, you're okay there?"

Well, to my credit, that stopped her crying and forced her to look at me in mild astonishment. 'Cause, you know, obviously she wasn't okay. Might be making her laugh would have been a better way to stop her crying, but, well, you've met me. We both know I wasn't making her laugh.

As she gaped at me and the silence stretched uncomfortably, I couldn't not fill it. So I continued with, "I hope you don't mind me asking, but you've been crying a lot, and I was wondering if I could help you in any way." That was smooth. Would have been even smoother to offer her the clean handkerchief I had in my pocket, but I forgot about it in the moment. Oh well.

She eventually took cigarettes and matches out of her purse and fumbled with them, hands shaking all over the place. I thought about lighting it for her, all movie-like, but I wasn't confident in my match skills — could have fumbled even more than her, you see. Besides, there was this big no-smoking sign hanging right over her head. Now, I ain't policing what others do when it's none of my business, but I ain't helping break any rules neither. No, sir-ee, not me.

She fumbled with it a while, then took a couple deep drags, staring off into the distance, thinking and stuff. Owner still hadn't come back, and there was nobody else around, 'cept the drunk guy. Mary seemed like she wanted to talk, which wasn't my intention — I just wanted her to stop the waterworks. Mostly, though, I wanted to pee. But then leaving now would've been rude. I also wasn't sure if I should sit in her booth, so I stayed standing (didn't want to presume nothing) and watched the drunk guy, giving her time to collect her thoughts.

Oh, the drunk guy? Yeah, he was sleeping. Beyond that? Well, you've seen him — big burly fella, could have been in a Lombroso textbook. Well dressed, though, so I didn't fear him as much. You know, didn't think of him as a dangerous anti-social element. A rich guy wants to be drunk at 11 a.m.? That's his well-earned, God-given right, I say; he ain't doing nothing bad because of it. Well, I mean, this one did, but that was later.

"Do you ever look back at your life and wonder — where did I make the first wrong turn that led me all the way here?" That's the first thing Mary told me. Pretty heavy opener, eh? Thought so too. I did think about it a bit, but then figured I'd rather take it as rhetorical and just shrug my shoulders, exhale solemnly and nod gravely all at once. Real foolproofer, that move; learned it from my mum talking to my drunk dad.

She went on, "I used to wonder that all the time, because the life I had felt like one I ended up with — surely I couldn't have chosen this." (Deep drag of cigarette) "But I could never pinpoint the moment it went wrong. Or so I thought — it's not that I couldn't, I refused to. Today I can finally see it went wrong the day I met Klaus."

Oh boy. I was on my fifth shrug-exhale-nod by then, worrying they might not cut it much longer. I'd guessed Klaus was the owner, what with the scene I walked into. Now I kept glancing at the door he'd disappeared behind, hoping he'd come back so I could ask where the toilet was, 'cause I really needed to pee.

"It's unsurprising it took me so long. For the longest time I thought Klaus was my ticket to happiness. He was so alive when we met, so much ambition. So many promises too… he promised me the world, and, God forgive me, I believed that pus—!" (Here I bumped into her leg as I sat down in front of her. It interrupted her, and for a bit she smoked again, but I really couldn't stand anymore for fear of wetting myself) "I should have run years ago, but I kept choosing that image of him over my own eyes, for years. Well, not anymore. I see now the peak of his ambition — no, his ability — is to manage this run-down place, and all his promises amounted to me being a glorified cleaning lady, washing his bar and his toilets with my youth…"

Oh, you bet I perked up there. The toilets! Where were they? I almost asked her there and then, so critical was the situation, but luckily even I am not that uncouth. I just did an extra-heavy sigh.

"But maybe this is my limit too, and I shouldn't blame Klaus alone. When I finally did find the strength to break free, this—" (she vaguely pointed her cigarette at the drunken man) " — was all I could manage. What a spectacular failure. We might deserve each other after all, me and Klaus. Two colossal failures…"

Now the drunk guy is part of it too! Just my damn luck, to walk into this soap-opera cafe when I just needed the bathroom. I was getting desperate. Best I could come up with was mumbling, "Let me get you a drink to calm down," and stumbling away. She didn't even look at me, luckily. I didn't matter to her beyond being an abstract listener.

Using my desperation-sharpened intuition, I scanned all the doors and locked onto the one I thought had to be the toilet (I was wrong, by the way). I barrelled towards it, but of course that was the moment Klaus returned from the back with a whole box of tea bags, no less. I've never seen a better tea selection in my life, damn him! So I stopped dead in my tracks and started choosing from the myriad of options (what the hell is non-sour lemon even?), since I was going to drink it later and might as well enjoy it. I don't like wasting money, see.

Well, there I stood, doing a little dog's shake and wiggle, browsing teas, with Klaus standing over me all sour, occasionally throwing mean glances Mary's way. Mary, though, was no longer crying; a cigarette and a good monologue-dump on a stranger had rekindled her spirits, and she was now spoiling for a fight. I gathered as much from the way she stared at Klaus unblinking, still doing deep drags of her tiny cigarette butt.

I should have quickly chosen a tea, asked for a bathroom, and barricaded myself there till the storm blew over. I really shoulda. But this glacial mint versus alpine mint thing was giving me a real bother; I'm indecisive, believe it or not. So when the tension finally exploded into a confrontation, I was smack dab in the middle of it.

"So, when will he wake up?" Klaus was really snarky with that he; Mother Teresa would have been baited by it, and Mary was more of a crusader at the moment.

"I don't know. He drank a lot of my alcohol, and unlike certain failures, he can afford to sleep it off for however long he likes."

"Oh, so it's your alcohol now, ain't it? Ha, ha-ha." Strange that that was the part he reacted to. I was ready to order by then (I chose dandelion in the end), but for the life of me, a good moment to do so just wouldn't present itself.

"Yes, Klaus, it was my dowry that funded this dump, so everything in it is mine, no matter how self-important you may act behind your little counter." Oof. Yikes.

"Oh, really? It's all yours now, then. Ha, ha-ha." Boy, seems she struck a nerve. That was a no-good rebuttal. Mary didn't even grace it with a response; she just struck a match and lit another cigarette. I really needed to pee.

"Ha, ha-ha. You! That's real nice, Mary, real swell. Why then have you done absolutely jack shite for it, huh? I'm here every damn day trynna keep this place going. While you, you, you just smoke your cigarettes and nag, nag, nag. You ain't done shit!" Yeah, she still kept quiet. Didn't even look at him. Seemed Mary knew his buttons better than he knew hers. Klaus, at that point, went for a bit of a Hail Mary — me.

"'Sides, you call this place a dump, but it was good enough for ya to bring your little lover here while I was suppose' to be away. Hey, sir! You reckon it's okay to bring a rich ol' lover for a tryst to your husband's cafe? Ya think that's — ya think that's normal?"

Me personally I didn't think anything. I wanted to pee. Having said that, it did seem like Mary was winning, and I'm a sucker for a good underdog story as much as the other guy. Also, I did want Klaus to like me, from way back when he glared at me and all. I just thought I'd help him out a little.

"Mm, ye-yeah… mhm, real wrong, I guess." Klaus was delighted; really gave him some wind under his sails. I think we could have been friends under different circumstances, me and him, you know.

Well, being emboldened, he finished with his coup de grâce. "Damn right it's wrong. Hah! Seems your karma caught up with you, though, didn't it? He drank so much you couldn't even really cheat, couldn'tcha? You musta' nagged him so hard, you nagger, he had to get dead drunk to get away from ya! Hah! You're too old to start cheatin', woman!"

Yeah, that touched her buttons alright. Kinda regretted facilitating that. Mary turned slowly and threw Klaus such a murderous gaze, I would have pissed myself under it even with an empty bladder. She put her cigarette down on the table and got up, no doubt to give him a good slapping, a deserved one too.

"HOW DARE YOU!!!" That was the Chekhov's drunk guy finally going off. Oh, he bellowed loud — so loud, in fact, that, I'll admit it, I'll be honest, I let out just a little bit, if you must know. Not a critical amount, but a lil' bit. The big rich drunk guy got up, all dishevelled, bloodshot eyes rolling all over the place. If you think I was scared, which I was, Klaus was a' trembling. Mary threw him a triumphant, vindictive gaze, excited for the ass-whooping he was about to receive, and I must say that gaze alone told me their marriage is irreconcilable, you know?

But anyways, he slowly stumbled toward the counter like a huge zombie, bellowing "HOW DARE YOU" from time to time. Then he stopped, did the holy drunk trinity of hiccuping, burping, and farting all at once, and breathed out, "How dare you stop the liquor coming..?" Then he just fell face first on the ground like a statue — and he was a big guy, you saw him, so the rattling of his fall was tremendous.

The three of us, we just kind of stood there frozen. It was like the frozen-tableau silent ending of that Gogol book, Revizor. Oh, you know, the Ukrainian fella. Haven't read it? You should, it's real good… All right, all right, I'm getting to the point, gee! You said every detail. Anyway—

All that rattling must have rolled the cigarette off the table, and it ignited the wall. Real flammable wallpaper, not up to fire code, probably — no wonder there was that sign. So the fire's spreading, Mary's screaming, Klaus is running around looking for an extinguisher, big guy's snoring. And me? Oh, sir, me — I saw the hand of God in the whole thing. Here was a quick-spreading fire, requiring vast quantities of liquid to put it out, stat! And there I stood, bladder bursting, desperate for any excuse to do the business.

So yeah, I stepped right up, zipped it out — never mind the lady, desperate times and all — and I un-leashed. Whoowee, a solid two minutes of unbroken stream, just what the situation called for. The fire was contained, and then Klaus finally found the extinguisher and finished the job. Ain't that crazy?

So yeah, officer, like I said — total accident, no arson at all; even though Klaus and Mary probably would have liked it to burn down, what with the insurance and all. It's a real shame about their marriage…