The Faucet: A Short Story

The Faucet
Drip — drip — drip.
The water faucet in my kitchen is leaking and getting it to stop is becoming more difficult. The drips were barely noticeable at first, coming every thirty-seconds or so, then faster, until the water became a steady stream of drips. The sound of the water hitting the steel sink could be heard twenty feet away on the sofa, my favorite spot to watch TV, and as the dripping increased, so did my frustration. 
Each time I used the faucet, there was an epic battle to stop the ferocity of the drip.
When the dripping stopped, I declared myself the victor. Temporarily, it ceased, the noise no longer torturing my nerves. Moments later though, the infernal sound would return, my ears ringing, head aching, the tiny drops of water crashing …show more content…
Sneer. Sigh. A quick glance and a snicker that said, “I know what I’m doing.”
My ego said, “I could have had this done already.”
She took off the extra black, rubber washer from the leaky faucet and put it on the new faucet.
“You don’t need to put on that second washer!” I said. “There’s one on it already! Where’s the crescent wrench?”
“What’s that?”
“The big silver wrench that we need,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “I know we have one around here somewhere.”
She held up her needle nose pliers. These were her go-to tool in almost every fix-it situation. Hammer, Never wanting to admit defeat, she took off the nut with her pliers, dropped back down under the sink, then turned the nut onto the threads of the faucet. My job was to hold the faucet in place to prevent it from turning. 
“Why don't you let me do that?” I said, growing increasingly frustrated. “If we find the crescent wrench it’ll only take me a second to fix.” 
“Your leg is bad, remember? I’ll do it.” 
Her insistence and determination were admirable traits. Right now though, they were traits that made me want to slam the cabinet doors shut with her trapped under the sink. 
“Okay,” I said, semi-sarcastically. “You let me