“I’m glad you were able to make it,” he said, sitting in an armchair across from me. “How are you doing?”
“Fine.”
“You look good.”
“So do you.”
Sitting there as a guest in the place that used to be my home, I felt like a stranger and I guess I was now. I still couldn’t figure out why Chris had asked me to come over and his refusal to tell me over the phone made me think the worst was about to come. I worried he was sick or that something had happened to his parents. And, to make matters worse, my urge to pee had grown intense. My bladder felt like it was about to burst, but having to ask Chris for permission to use the bathroom annoyed me. I used to live here! I used to get up and use the john whenever I needed, and now I squirmed in my chair because I had to ask for permission to use the fucking toilet.
“What’s wrong?” Chris asked.
“I need to use the john.”
He laughed. “Then use it. You know where it is.”