What Lovers Do

Please just let me die if you can’t prevent the aforementioned from happening.

Yours truly, regards, sincerely, amen,

Dr. Basic Sophie Ryan, OD

The bathroom door opens, and I wait to hear the click of the guest bedroom door shutting. It’s bedtime. We have an early morning. Everyone just needs to go to bed.

“Sophie, what’s going on?”

I glance up at tipsy Shep as he crosses his arms over his chest, looking down on me in what feels like a literal and proverbial way.

Forcing myself to swallow the dry, bland bread, I grab the edge of the counter and pull myself up. “It’s late. I’m going to bed. Night, Shep.”

“Too much juice?” He narrows his glossed-over eyes.

“Too much juice …” I murmur, making a beeline for the bathroom.

I barely get my pants to my knees before Shep knocks on the door again. “Sophie, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Fine!” I cringe at my sharp tone. “I’m showering. Go drink.” I reach for the exhaust switch and turn it on for some noise, but it’s not enough so I turn on the faucet.

That’s still not enough. Next, I turn on the shower.

The first explosive burst releases. I suck in a big breath and freeze, willing my ass to cooperate and hold it in a little longer until I can find more ways to drown out the sound. My last option is my phone, so I turn on a song. Any song. And I turn the volume all the way up.

For the next sixty seconds, I thoroughly detox to AJR’s “Burn the House Down.”

Since the bathroom is filled with steam anyway, I go ahead and shower. How is this my reality? What did I do to deserve this? I am a vessel for life—the ultimate gift and what feels like the ultimate sacrifice at the moment.

Wrapping a towel around my body and hugging my clothes to my chest, I slowly open the door. Lucky for me, if I can call anything “luck” at this point, it’s that they are still outside. Bolting into my room, I shut and lock the door.

CHAPTER THIRTY

“Feeling better, Peanut?” Dad asks as I round the corner to the kitchen. Shep’s door is closed, and Taryn is nowhere in sight.

My dad only calls me Peanut when he thinks I need to be coddled.

I shrug, grabbing a mug and pouring my one allotted cup of coffee. “Fine.” I act as though it’s a silly question.

Dad sips his coffee as I lean against the counter and sip mine. “You really tore it up in the bathroom last night.”

“Daaad!” I turn my back to him and stare out the window to the patio. I don’t care who it is. Mom. Dad. Best friend. It’s embarrassing to talk about explosive diarrhea with anyone, even a doctor. It’s the most unflattering thing a human does. My face burns with embarrassment.

“Maybe you should ease off the cleanse. Are you going to be able to golf today? It could be a trek to the restroom if the urge hits.”

“Jeez … just …” I shake my head and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m fine. Can we not discuss this like … ever again?”

“I’m just saying we were a little concerned about you last night.”

“We?” I cringe, slowly turning back toward him.

“It was a little …” He smirks behind his steaming mug of coffee. “Loud.”

My heart sinks into my stomach. “Who heard?” I whisper past my dying breath.

Dad rubs his lips together, and that’s my answer. Everyone heard.

“Dad, I need you to take Shep golfing. I’m going to drive home after you leave. I’ll buy him a one-way ticket back to Phoenix if you’ll kindly drive him to the airport.”

“Soph, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It happens to everyone at some point. When Taryn did her cleanse, she was a little bloated and gassy for a few days while everything worked its way out.”

“You heard me,” I whisper yell. “I wasn’t ‘a little gassy.’ I was a goddamn volcano. Taryn and her stupid green juice and detox soup. I’m not on that kind of cleanse. I’m not really cleansing at all. I’m simply temporarily restricting a few things from my diet. Is that okay? Can I do that without some long explanation as to why I’m doing it?”

My dad is the best. Really. I have to hand it to him; he’s doing a phenomenal job of holding back his reaction as he clears his throat. “Sorry, Peanut. You’re right. Taryn went a little overboard. I’ll tell her to let you do you, and no one will say another word. Okay?”

I frown. “I’m going to get ready.”

“Here.” He tosses me a banana. “This will help slow things down.”

“Why me?” I mumble, sulking toward the bedroom.

Before I can close the door, Shep’s door opens, and we make eye contact for a full second before I avert my gaze to the floor. “Morning,” I murmur while closing my door.