Little Talks: Shower Cry

A series of short stories about a relationship starring a fictional couple who live rent free in Scott’s head.

“Is something bothering you? Anything you want to talk about?” she asks as I’m loading the dishwasher with dirty wares from last night’s late meal and I immediately being to wonder and worry what has precipitated this question. Maybe I’ve done or not done something, or just simply seem off in some way. It could be about anything. Could come from anywhere.

“Well, that’s kind of a loaded question,” I say. “Something is always bothering me.”

“Right, that’s status quo but, I heard you crying in the shower this morning,” she says.

Ah, yes — that. I suppose that behavior could understandably spur some concern about one’s well-being and what might be on their mind. Maybe even some slight alarm. I was hoping she hadn’t heard me in there, but my tears sometimes don’t hold back for anyone. Goddamn thin walls and weak-ass water pressure.

“You were really letting it out, whatever it is,” she adds.

“Well, you did hear correctly. I was indeed sobbing in the shower. I’m not going to lie or hide that from you.”

“Why? And one could say, not that I’m judging, that the shower seems like the perfect venue to try and hide some serious weeping from someone. Or everyone.”

“That’s how it all started. Simply put, I absolutely love a good cry. Always have, far back as I can remember. And I’m conditioned to be clandestine about it when I can be. Better to do it in my own bathroom than on the B-Train or at a wedding, which are both places I have shed tears in the past, to name just a couple.”

“Really?”

“Yes — but it’s not something to worry about.”

“How am I not supposed to worry about such a thing?”

“I promise it has nothing to do with you.”

“That makes me worry less — but only slightly. What does it have to do with?”

“Sometimes I just feel sad about all sorts of different things or even nothing at all, and I’ve learned through the years to not hold it in so much. Or else it starts to eat at you and before long there comes some damage from the repression that sometimes can’t be fully fixed.”

“So you’ve been doing this for a while then?”

“It’s a ritual unlike any other. Started when I was just a little kid. The shower was a private place where I wouldn’t get scolded or questioned for crying. I could get it out, spend some time in there trying to calm myself, throw on a happy face I’d examine in the mirror while rather seductively moisturizing my body and then go ahead and go about my day.”

“We all have our little things, I guess.”

“Sure do — and to me, the shower just makes sense. You can get really into it and have those heaving sobs that really get the demons out. You don’t make a big tear- and snot-soaked mess. You don’t know the tears from tap water, and it all gets sent down the drain, which is I guess a little bit symbolic. Then afterward you can wash some of the sadness off your back for good measure.”

“It hits different, somehow, these shower cries.”

“Precisely. Sometimes I even sit down in there. It’s a whole thing.”

“Sounds like it.”

“It’s really a great way to start the day.”

“A lot of people say that about Special K.”

“The cereal or drug?”

“Depends on the day, I guess — and whatever you need to do to make it through.”

“True.”

“I’m curious, though, and I don’t want to pry, but what was the impetus for this morning’s shower cry?”

“Just some of my little intrusive thoughts. Worries about things that I can’t control or that are likely to never occur tend to seep in sometimes, and I’ve learned to lean into the sadness for a little while without letting it completely overtake me.”

“Do you want to talk about any of it?”

“Not really — and I hope that doesn’t offend you. I’m being honest when I tell you nothing is wrong with us, and that nothing all that serious is off with me. This is just a thing I do.”

“It’s interesting to learn something new about someone so close to you. And no offense taken. Just know I’m here and always willing and waiting to lend an ear, even if that’s the maximum I can do.”

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that.”

“And honestly now I’m even more excited to go to our first wedding together, because I want to see how much you blubber.”

“Oh, it’s going to be intense. Like a torrential downpour of tears. But some things can’t be prevented. I’ve finally made some peace with the fact that I cry easier than most anyone else I know and that sometimes my sensitivity is going to be put on public display. One of several reasons why I habitually carry a handkerchief.”

“I love that you’ve reached a comfort level with public crying but, out of curiosity, do you ever worry that people are going to laugh a little bit at your sad boy temperament and public displays of emotion?”

“Honestly, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. Gotta have some fun with it, no matter what it is.”