March 2019 Third Place: Inconvenienced by Andrea Hunter

Inconvenienced

By Andrea Hunter

The man behind the counter greets me cheerfully as I barge in, frantically searching for the telltale arrow indicating ‘restrooms this way.’ Barely an hour since my last stop, and too few miles behind me, I fight the panic that's beginning to set in. Still, I smile; a quick, distracted offering, and blurt out a tense, “hi,” as I navigate around a cardboard cut-out of bigfoot clutching a fistful of spicy beef sticks. Taped to the glass door on the other side of the small but stocked to the brim mini-mart is the sign I'm looking for. 

Separating the gas station store from an adjoining fast food restaurant is a narrow alcove where the public restrooms sit. The plastic plaque next to the women's is broken, only two letters remain: 'WO.' I shoulder the door open. At one time, this place might have been a welcome respite for road weary travelers - three roomy stalls, a double sink, tiled walls that coordinate with the countertop and the tile on the floor - bordering on ostentatious in its newness. Chipped tiles, dripping faucets, and broken locks on the stalls make no difference to me. But the piss on the seats, the filthy socks discarded on the floor of one stall, and the fast food bag hanging out of the sanitary napkin bin make my stomach lurch. I bump my bruised cheek and flinch as I pull my hair back with one hand before leaning over the closest pee-riddled toilet seat. Pain lightening-bolts through my face and stomach. 

I let my guts empty out to Steely Dan’s Deacon Blues crackling through a speaker somewhere overhead. I finish, wipe my mouth with a wad of cheap, one-ply toilet tissue, and realize that this pregnancy might kill me after all.

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Andrea Hunter is a writer, poet, and consultant situated in the burbs of Chicago. She has been published previously in WOW! Women on Writing, Ink and Voices, and in various print publications.