Page 23 of Deja Who
“You’re actually ahead of the game, Harry.”
“That must be why all the ladies want me,” he snapped.
“We know the root cause of your ablutophobia. Some people never find out why they’re afraid.”
Or they do, and they don’t care. Like you, Leah!
“That’s enough.”
“Sorry, Ms. Nazir?”
“Nothing, just scolding myself.”
“Does it work?”
“Hardly ever. Your paralyzing fear of bathing and washing is perfectly understandable.” It certainly was; in 1819, Harry’s stepbrother had drowned him in the upstairs bathtub when he was six.These kids today. And also back then.“But you can overcome it. Youcan. Look, keep up with the sponge baths in the kitchen, and I want you to get a sitz bath.”
“Baths don’t work,” he corrected her sharply. “I can barely stand to pee in there, remember? It took us over eight months for you to get me to stop pissing in the kitchen sink. It’s hard enough just to pee in the bathroom, never mind take a—”
“A sitz bath is small, and you’re only in water up to your hips.It’s what pregnant women use after they have a baby and are too sore for much else. Trust me, you cannot drown in one.” Probably. Not without considerable sustained effort, for certain. “Baby steps, right? Don’t get rid of the kiddie pool; store it in your garage for now and we’ll work back up to that. In the meantime: sitz bath. Pick one up or order it online. Today. I’ll put a note in your chart and your HMO will reimburse. Meanwhile, step up the sponge baths. The hottest part of summer is coming.” Oh, God, it was. If Harry was this ripe now... it didn’t bear thinking about.
“Okay, I’ll try. Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.”
“Of course. And we’ll have a longer session next week, when you can tell me all about the joys of your sitz bath.”
“Can’t hardly wait,” he said, and gave her a crooked smile on his way out.
If nothing else, she thought, giving her patient a wave as he left a trail of stink behind him before opening every window in the room, it’s nice to put my own problems in perspective. I’m due to be hideously murdered in the next several months, but at least I can enjoy many showers between now and then. I don’t smell. I don’t have sex with strangers in ball fields. This doesn’t make me a better person, just a less complicated one.
Yes, for some reason she was viewing the cup as half-full today, and she even knew why: it had everything to do with the man about to accompany her to the pit of horror she’d grown up in.
She realized, with equal parts unease and anticipation, that she couldn’t wait.
