The Stench Left Behind

I am 13 years old living at home in a three bedroom apartment in Montreal with my Mom and Dad, three brothers and Grandmother. We only have one washroom so my whole life I have learned what will power is. One day my stomach begins to gurgle and I needed to use the washroom immediately. It is late Friday afternoon and the apartment already reeks of boiled fish that my grandmother is preparing for dinner. I race to the bathroom but it is occupied by Grandma. She doesn’t speak English so my Mother is yelling at her through the closed bathroom door that I have to use the bathroom urgently. Finally after an eternity I am able to use the bathroom to relieve myself but not before yelling in silence “Oh my God, what happened in here”.

It is now July 1981. I am 23 years old, a salesman driving in Hamilton going to my next client. It is mid-afternoon and suddenly my stomach is gurgling possibly due to the lunch I had or the stress I am feeling starting a new job. My only thought is finding a washroom ASAP. I am too far from my apartment and reluctant to have to use the facilities at my client’s place. I scour the unfamiliar area of town and notice an independent donut place, not your typical franchise place and quickly pull up to the front of the store. I rush in and head to the back of the place and breathe a sigh of relief when I notice the men’s washroom is vacant. It is a private bathroom with an open stall, not particularly clean but this is no time to complain. In the middle of doing my business I hear a knock on the door and respond shyly with “It is occupied, I will be out shortly.” I quickly finish and head out the door. As I am leaving the donut shop I hear in the background the waiting patron yell “Oh my God, what happened in here”. I go to my car and drive off.

While I am both relieved and embarrassed by the stench I have left behind, I smile and think back of my Grandma and the days of sharing one bathroom. Even the “bad” smells can bring back good memories.