One November night, Adam engaged in the aforementioned routine, and, it being a chilly winter night, I decided to make some hot chocolate for a post-shower warm up.
As an aside, my mother had a habit of getting up, regardless of what was happening in the house, around 11:30pm to pee. It just so happened to be 11:42pm.
With two mugs out, and the packets of powder poured in with hot water, I pick up one of the vessels and lean against the kitchen counter. I stir said cup of hot beverage.
I hear the bedroom door open.
I hear sloppy, sleepy, swishy footsteps.
The bathroom door opens. She sits down on the toilet and begins to talk…
“So I was thinking, this weekend we could go hit the outlets and – oh, that woman at work was terrible! I can’t get over what she said…”
My mother continues to talk to who she thinks is me in the shower. After a good two minutes of banter she recognizes a lack of response. A long pause occurs. “You’re not Stacey are you…?”
Adam’s deep voice perks up casually from behind the shower curtain, “Uh, nope… It’s Adam.”
She starts laughing hysterically and to both mine and Adam’s dismay – she stays on the toilet and finishes peeing!! Still frozen but continuing to stir the hot chocolate, I hear the bathroom door open again and see her walk down the hall to go back to bed like nothing ever happened.
Midnight bathroom habits apparently yield fortune-teller-like signs (I think in that moment I knew Adam and I wouldn’t last). His lack luster response was a reflection of our lusterless relationship. I should have looked at that hot chocolate as if it were tea leaves.