The toilet

TEST

The toilet had proven itself as a very suitable place to think. Maggie had been sitting on the toilet for about an hour now, twisting her thumbs around each other. Bart had already stood by the door many times, trying to persuade her to leave her safe little room. Just when she thought he’d given up, she heard his loud footsteps stop in front of the bathroom door.

“Maggie? How long are you going to stay in here? Please, just… come out so we can talk.”

They had talked too much these last few months. Maggie had become fed up with their ‘talks’. As if talking would solve everything. Not the slightest chance. She already knew that Bart’s mind couldn’t be changed. He was so stubborn, just like she was.

“Maggs, we really need to talk about this. Now.” No answer, obviously.

Bart thought that it was a problem that she didn’t want to have kids. Ever. Kids creeped her out. Thinking of having kids creeped her out. Pushing three kids or so out of her vagina made her want to puke. Kids weren’t going to happen for her. For them. But Bart desperately wanted to be able to show his capabilities of being an ‘awesome dad’.

“You can’t stay in there forever, you know.”

She had got sick of these expectations. Not only those from Bart, but also those from her friends.  “Once you have them, you’ll love them”. Yeah, right. If they wanted to sacrifice their lady parts for a couple of kids, fine, but no way that she was going to do it. This whole “I don’t want kids thing” had driven a wedge between her and her friends. Every time they met, they looked at her in a certain, unpleasant manner. As if they judged her for not using her womanhood for producing screaming little monsters.

Meanwhile, Bart had lost his patience.

“You need to come out now, Maggie!”

“Just one more minute!” she sneered back at him.

Maggie had been afraid that Bart wanted to leave her. That would seem a logical thing to do, wouldn’t it? She and Bart had lost intimacy over the past few months. The last time they’d had sex was about three weeks ago, when she’d reluctantly agreed to make-up sex after one of their many fights. And now, she sat on the toilet, sitting out those excruciating couple of minutes, hoping for a miracle.

Suddenly she heard mumbling from the other side of the door.

“What?” she yelled.

“I want a divorce.”

Not paying attention to what Bart was saying, she looked anxiously at the small stick that has been staring at her the whole time she sat on the toilet. Here we go, she thought. Sighing as she picked the stick up off the sink, she opened the door, and showed Bart the pregnancy test. It was positive.