THE STRAIGHT POOP (Part Two)

Hank grabbed a bottle of champagne and said to W.S. and me, “Let’s the four of us have a private toast before the wedding.” “But, you’re not supposed to see the bride are you?” I said. “Don’t worry. We can do this without me seeing her,” he replied. “Follow me!”

He led us up the stairs into a bedroom and then into the adjoining bathroom. “Shut the door,” he whispered. Then Hank stepped into the oversized bathtub and knocked on the wall. It was then that I noticed the hinges and the secret door on the other side of the tub. “Get in,” he said. “There’s plenty of room.” So, W.S. in his tuxedo and I in my chiffon dress, climbed into the tub.

“What is this?” asked W.S. Hank replied, “Elsa had a nanny when she was growing up. The nanny’s room was on the other side of the bathtub, so Elsa’s Dad had this secret door cut into the wall in case Elsa needed her nanny in the middle of the night. That way nanny could get to Elsa without disturbing anyone else.” “And arrive clean,” W.S. added, but Hank ignored him as the door opened, and Elsa stuck her head into the bathroom.

“What do you want?” she asked. Hank said, “I thought we’d have one toast before the big event.” “Okay,” she replied, “But you can’t see me. Just hand me the glass.” Well, it was extremely good champagne, and who can drink just one glass of extremely good champagne? True to his word, Hank didn’t peek around the door, but kept filling the glass of the extended gloved hand from the other side.

Thirty minutes had passed and by this time, Hank, W.S. and I were comfortably getting pickled in the tub, when Elsa’s mother barged into the bathroom and shouted, “What is going on here? Over one-hundred people are sitting in my living room waiting for a wedding, and you are---you are—What are the three of you doing sitting in the bathtub?” Then she spied the door above the tub slowly closing, and wailed, “Elsa are you getting married or what?”

From the other side of the door we heard a muffled, “Yes, Mama. I am definitely getting married.” Elsa’s mother left the bathroom as we clambered out of the tub, and Hank tapped on the door, “Are you okay in there?”

“I’m fine,” Elsa giggled. “This is going to be one hell of a wedding. I love you, Hank. I love you W.S. and I love you too, Kiddo---dog shit and all!”

It turned out to be a pretty nice wedding. The bride was reasonably sober, the groom was happy, and the parents were relieved. However, when I got home, I threw out those shoes before I entered our apartment. The best man made me do it.

Esther Blumenfeld

CROSSING WITH THE BLUE LIGHT, Blumenfeld c. 2006