Page 17 of Bang it Out

Am I losing my mind by making enemies with my sink? Probably. But my frustration and temporary insanity are giving me the energy and confidence to tackle this sink issue by myself, so I'm going to run with it.

I run to the back where Archer left the tools we got last week for this very same problem, then return to the task at hand. Squatting down, I open the cupboard doors and get a good look at the pipes underneath. Once again, I feel overwhelmed and not quite sure what I’m staring at.

I recognize the white section of the pipe we replaced last time, so I guess that's where I should start. Maybe I didn't fully tighten something when Archer let me help him last time. I'm sure it's a reflection of me, and not of the quality of work Archer does.

Wielding a wrench in one hand and my livelihood in the other, I begin tightening up all the bolts I can see. Things are going pretty well, even if I have to contort my body into ridiculous positions to find the right angle to do some of these things.

I find myself twisted up into a pretzel when it all goes wrong. So very wrong.

I must have either tightened the bolt too much or maybe I loosened it on accident since I’m all twisted up and losing track of the “righty tighty, lefty loosey” principle. Either way, whatever colossal mistake I made is ten times worse since I’m just now realizing I forgot the very first rule of plumbing: turn off the main water valve.

Water sprays everywhere, drenching me in seconds and covering everything within a ten-foot distance in water. The stream is so powerful in some areas, that the petals on some of my arrangements fall off, leaving them in a sorry state.

I’m frozen for a moment, unsure of how to even go about fixing this catastrophe. God, my mother was right. I’m a fuck up. A pathetic loser.

Tears stream down my face, but at least they are masked by the water I’m currently covered in. I plop onto the wet floor with a splash, and I wince, knowing the water is flooding everywhere and I’ll likely have standing water that will cause what I’m sure will be ridiculously expensive to fix.

My pity party comes to an abrupt end when I realize the water is leaking into the store next door… Archer’s construction site. None of the crew is there to catch it or fix it or do anything to help.

“Frick,” I mutter. “I can’t do anything right.”

Knowing I’m ruining not only my shop but all of Archer’s hard work as well, gives me the motivation I need to stand and wade through the water into the back closet, where the water valve is. I crank the small wheel to the left, noting that it’s much more difficult this time. Probably on account of the high-pressure water currently blasting out of my sink.

“Come… on… you… stupid… piece of– ah!”

My foot slips on the slick concrete floor in the back hallway, and I lurch forward, trying to break my fall with my hands. Instead, my head makes contact with the metal wheel on the way down, pain exploding on the right side of my head.

I manage to pull myself up, using my anger and humiliation as motivation to end this disaster once and for all. Yanking the wheel to the left, I let out a satisfied yet weary grunt, knowing at least part one of the problem is fixed.

Trudging back out to the front of the shop, I'm frozen once again as I survey the damage. I don't have any tears left to grieve my beautiful flowers and plants that got destroyed, let alone the property damage I caused to the flooring.

My phone rings, making me jump out of my skin. It's sitting on the far counter, which is miraculously unscathed by the Great Floral Flood of '24. Archer's name flashes across the screen, making my heart twist up painfully. He has no idea. He doesn't know I screwed up and not only put my shop at risk but his big remodel as well.

He’s going to break up with me. Why wouldn’t he? I knew he wouldn’t stick around forever, I just hoped we’d have more time together before he figured out I’m not worth his time. But now…

My phone rings again, and I know Archer is just going to keep calling until I answer. I can’t deal with his disappointment tonight, however.

Taking a deep breath, I reach for my phone and answer the call, putting on my best cheery voice. “Hey, Archer!” I say in what I hope is a normal tone.

“Is everything okay?” he asks. Damn. This man already knows me too well.

“Yup,” I’m quick to respond. “How was the supply run? Successful?”

“Sure, it was fine,” he says, his voice skeptical and a bit concerned. “What’s going on, Delilah?”

"Oh, nothing. Just tired from working late on inventory and whatnot. It'll be a long night, so I probably won't see you until tomorrow."

Not that I’ll have a solution by then, but it buys me some time to do… something. Flee the country, maybe?

“I can come over and help. We got done early so I’m actually just getting back to town. I can be there in five minutes.”

“No!” comes my desperate and all-too forceful tone “I mean, no, that’s okay,” I say, trying to recover. “You’re probably tired, too. Just rest and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Delilah…”

“Ope! I have to go grab the roses before they wilt!” I ramble, though that excuse makes no sense. If I received a shipment of wilted roses, they’d be promptly sent back with a request for new ones and a discount on my order. I only accept the best for Bushing Blooms.

I hang up before Archer can object or talk me into letting him come over. I can’t deal with that right now. Not when my life is already falling apart. I need to spread out my heartbreak over a few days, otherwise the grief might just shut my heart down completely.

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