Golden Hour

Chapter 22

Unfortunately, the rest of the morning goes about as smoothly as Roseanne's orgasm that morning - in that it is not smooth at all.

Because what most of the world thinks is handicap accessible never really fits what handicap people need to be handicap accessible

Sure, it's a wide scale to try and cover every need of every person that may or may not pass through this motel - but to think that one shower chair stuffed in a regular fucking shower is accessible is borderline ignorant.

So when Roseanne rolls into the bathroom to take her morning shower, she's immediately met with a fucking obstacle course to try and actually do it.

While there is a bar for her to grab onto to help get in the shower, the door itself is pretty narrow and the goddamn toilet is just...right in the middle of everything.

Roseanne decides to try a different approach. She uses the toilet first, then goes from the toilet to the shower - a three step move.

She makes it into the shower well enough, a bit exhausted from the effort and annoyed that she'll have to cross toilet mountain again just to get back to her chair, but she's in and she's ready and then...

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

The showerhead is just...a showerhead. Bolted into the wall and so far above her she couldn't even reach it if it was detachable - which it is not.

Which means that Roseanne is going to have to use a washcloth to rinse everywhere the water won't reach.

Meaning she'll be in here for the next forty-five fucking minutes with a spray of water (that is going to be cold as fuck when she fires this up) barreling down on her.

Still, still, she will do it. She will not let this ruin her morning because she had sex this morning and woke up next to Lisa and they're going to spend the day together.

So Roseanne takes a long, lukewarm shower, with water pressure that matches the strength of a dangling hose.

It's so much fucking work, but she manages to do enough to feel clean and by the time she turns the water off, her fingers are wrinkly.

When she's about halfway across the toilet and pulls her chair over to get into - where her towels are sitting - there's a knock on the door. "Roseanne? Are you alright?"

"Yeah!" She says, the frustration of her hand almost slipping off the sink she's pushing against for balance seeping into her voice. "The showerhead didn't detach so I had to take my time to wash everywhere."

"It didn't?" Lisa says, her tone now the one frustrated. "What's the point of calling it an accessible room if it isn't fully accessible?" This sounds like she's just talking to herself.

Roseanne makes it to the chair, where one towel is covering the seat to dry her back end and another waits to dry the rest of her. She lets out a long breath, glad that fucking nightmare is over, and starts to dry off. "It's fine, I made it work," she says, lightening her voice.

Because she did, it's over now and she's clean and they'll leave tomorrow back to where her shower is so routine she hardly has to think about it.

Even if there's a new voice in the back of her head telling her that this dream she has to see the world will be filled with shit like this.

It's too big of a thought for this morning, for this weekend. She's already dealt with her body enough today - she's determined to not let it ruin this.

So when Roseanne puts on her clothes and rolls out of the bathroom, hair still wet and both towels now balled up on her lap, she gives Lisa a bright smile. "Sorry, all yours now."