Suede to Rest by Diane Vallere Page A

done. Charlie had a good thing back here in her private quarters. No wonder she didn’t tell people about it.
    As I rinsed the lather from my torso, a pulse of cold water alerted me that my four minutes were almost up. I tipped my head back and pushed my hair away from my face one last time, then tried to turn off the water.
    The knob came off in my hand. Cold water replaced hot and pelted me. I pushed against the door. It didn’t budge. I put more of my weight into it and pushed as hard as I could against it. Again, no luck.
    That’s when I realized the water pooling at my feet was halfway up my calves.

Seven
    The spray of water turned cold against my skin, making it harder and harder to move. I grabbed the interior handle on the shower and shook it, trying to loosen it up. Nothing worked.
    The water level rose to my hips. I turned around and pressed my back against the door, leveraging my foot under the place where the water knob had been. With all my might, I pushed. Nothing.
    I didn’t know much about the chemical principles of caulk, but I was starting to think something more threatening was at play. I screamed for help and slapped my palms against the interior of the shower unit.
    As the water climbed past my midsection, I gave up my efforts to open the door and looked for a new way out. There was no top on the shower unit. I stood on my tiptoes, thankful for my five-foot-nine height, and peeked over the top of the door. Steam interfered with my line of vision, but not enough to see that the door to the shed was now open.
    I was running out of options. As I repositioned my feet in the water, now up to my chest, I realized the buildup of water pressure might be my answer. The makeshift shower rocked slightly and I knew the only way out was to try to climb out the top. I moved my body from one wall to another, grabbed ahold of the top of the unit, and pulled myself up, seeking traction with my bare feet on the walls. The unit tipped precariously and crashed to the ground.
    A seal of caulk broke open on impact and water gushed out across the gray plastic flooring. I crawled out of the top of the unit, shivering from the now-icy-cold water. My ribs hurt from slamming into the ground. I gasped for breath. My air had never been cut off, but the fear of drowning in a two-foot-square shower had been enough to start me hyperventilating.
    I pulled a plush white towel from the folding chair and covered with it, unable to do much more than that in my cold state. It wasn’t enough. I reached into the basket where the dirty towels were and pulled out two more, wedging them around my feet. My teeth chattered like a windup set of teeth from a gag store. When I pressed them together to make them stop, my jaw jumped with the same movement.
    A male voice sounded from the doorway. “What’s going on in there? Charlie, is that you?”
    â€œN-n-n-n-no. It’s P-p-p-p-poly M-m-m-m-monroe.”
    I curled myself into a ball and wrapped my arms around my legs. The towels, sizeable bath sheets, only slightly helped. Water from the broken spout sprayed the interior of the shed, dousing everything. I crawled to the wall where a spigot was hidden under a bench. With a cold, shaking hand, I grabbed the knob and turned it several times to the left. The spray of water transitioned to a trickle, and then nothing.
    I leaned against the bench and stuck my legs out in front of me. The calendar pages on the walls were tipped at angles and spotted with drops. The plastic walls of the shower lay in a pile on the floor, bent and cracked. I spied something under the wreckage. It was the triangle-shaped rubber door stopper that Charlie had moved away from the front door before she’d left. What was it doing by the busted shower unit? I tried to stand, but fell down, tripping over my own feet. At least this time I had more than a lack of coordination to blame.
    I wrapped a towel around my torso and tucked the edge under my