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“You know I already think Valentine’s Day is overly commercial, I don’t see why I must be continuously tortured with things like this.” David was a talented multi-tasker, so he was able to gripe while still making progress setting up the display.
“Overly commercial? Well, good thing we’re celebrating this fake holiday in our commercial enterprise! Feel free to completely ignore in your personal life.” Patrick was perched at the counter with his laptop and tea.
David looked up from where he was sitting cross-legged on the floor assembling the temporary wooden stand. “Okay, when I said that you could have more creative license in the seasonal displays, I did not anticipate that it would involve me hand-drawing a sign advertising ‘National Bubble Bath Day’. Also, I have not forgotten about the plunger incident.”
Patrick walked across the store to stand in front of David before lowering himself into a squat. He cupped David’s cheek and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Thank you for trusting me.”
David blinked, surprised.
“And I would be more than happy to add you to the email list I get previewing upcoming holidays with potential product tie-ins.”
David only groaned, turning back to his project.
“Maybe we should pitch it as bubble-palooza instead,” Patrick rose and walked back to the counter.
“Okay, okay, back to the spreadsheets with you.”
Unfortunately for David, the people of Schitt’s Creek loved fake holidays, bubble baths, and the combination thereof. It felt like the whole weekend was bubble-bath themed, and the “holiday” wasn’t even until Wednesday.
“Oooh, do you boys have any bubble bath plans for the holiday?” a customer would ask as David rang up their order, carefully wrapping the bath bombs in a parchment paper.
“Um, apparently just selling bath bombs and bubble bath!” David would reply.
David had this conversation multiple times. Sometimes with the same customer.
“I mean it’s possible that it’s just the power of the display,” he suggested to Patrick during a quiet moment. “Prominently placed, products carefully arranged. People might have bought all this regardless.”
“Based on how many times it’s been brought up, I don’t think that’s true, David. Plus it’s so soon after Christmas. Though I must say you did a beautiful job with that arrangement.”
“Thanks,” replied David, softly and somewhat unwillingly.
When the next customer came in, looking for skincare and some apple cider, Patrick made sure to mention the upcoming holiday to them. “And we’ve got both bath bombs and bubble liquid in scents that go really well with the moisturizer you already love.” The customer left happy, carrying two bags of assorted Rose Apothecary goods.
“You’re not being subtle,” David said after the customer left.
“That video on upselling you had me watch a month ago is really coming in handy,” Patrick said in return. “I can’t believe I sold four bath bombs in one go.”
“Yes, that was very impressive. And you only mentioned that this is allegedly a national holiday twice in the conversation. Compared to the approximately seven times you told Roland.”
“Hey, whatever works. He bought one bath bomb in every scent! And gave me a little too much information about his and Jocelyn’s plans for using them. To be clear, I told him that the bath bombs should probably not be used in a jacuzzi, but he didn’t seem deterred.” Patrick was unsuccessfully holding back a smirk.
“You deserved it. Terrible conversations with Roland about upcoming nudity, you absolutely deserved it.”
The arrival of Wednesday, January 8, could not have come sooner. David tried to approach it with optimism - the fake holiday would soon be over.
“I’m taking down the sign as soon as we close. Like, you’ll need to lock the door because I will be busy with that.”
“Sounds like a plan, David.”
The day was busy, as Wednesdays typically were. A steady stream of customers picking up cheeses and vegetables, as well as some browsing for skin care who David was more than happy to assist. What was disconcerting was the way they entered the store.
“Happy National Bubble Bath Day!”
“Mmmhmm!” David would reply, forcing himself to bite his tongue.
Their departures were even worse.
“Can’t wait to use this, I’ll send you guys a picture!”
“Oh, well I hope you enjoy, but please, no need!” David’s commitment to customer service was being severely tested.
By mid-afternoon they had only a few products left on the display. Patrick decided to take pity.
“Hey, since the display is looking sparse now, maybe we should disassemble it early? We can just leave the last few on the counter as impulse buys.”
David had never moved more efficiently.
“I mean, of course I’ll still mention it to anyone else who comes in, really make the effort to clear out the stock -”
Patrick’s stream of thought was interrupted as David whipped around with a withering glare. He tried to recompose himself.
“Happy National Bubble Bath, David. I think this has been a great success.”
After talking up the product all week and having to refill the display multiple times, Patrick decided to take part himself. It was a holiday after all.
The evening of January 8 found him dropping a bath bomb into the tub, hot water immediately working to create aroma, color, and bubbles. He added a little more bubble bath liquid as a treat, then sank beneath the froth, stretching out as best he could in the cramped confines.
The scent was gentle, filling the room without being overpowering. A good choice, even though it was the only scent they hadn’t sold out of. He cracked his neck and closed his eyes.
A few minutes later, his phone chimed.
He reached one hand out of the tub, drying it on a towel before opening his phone on the floor next to him. A message from David awaited him.
My family is driving me absolutely insane I cannot be in these rooms for one more minute
Are you at home?
Yes, he quickly responded. Come over! Ray ran out to the grocery store and the door should be unlocked. Let yourself in and come upstairs when you get here.
Patrick spent the next 15 minutes in pure relaxation, occasionally topping off the tub with a little more hot water. He made a mental note to do this more often. Once they got a restock on bath bombs.
He heard David open the front door followed by his steps on the stairs.
“I’m in the bathroom, come in!” Patrick called out.
“Ew, what?” It sounded like David had gone looking in his bedroom only to return to the hallway.
“Come here!”
“Okay, bathrooms are a private space for private activity and I’d like to keep it that way in our relationship for as long as possible.” David’s voice sounded strained through the door.
“It’s a clean activity. Just come in!”
The door squeaked as David opened it as slowly as possible, tentatively peeking his head around the edge before gazing upon Patrick in the tub, a thick layer of bubbles still covering the surface of the water.
“Oh my god,” he sputtered, closing the door gently behind him. “Is this a fucking joke?!”
“No!” laughed Patrick, sinking deeper into the bubbles while trying not to create waves. “I didn’t even know you were coming over at all until five minutes ago!”
“Are you naked?” David whispered.
“Yes, David, you’ll be shocked to hear this but since I am taking a bath at home, where I live, I am in fact, naked.”
David leaned back against the countertop and crossed his arms.
“Well, good to know that the products live up to the hype. I take it this is the lavender one?”
“With a little lemon. Relaxing before bed, you know?”
David covered his eyes with his hands. “Yes, I only heard you give that spiel seven thousand times this week.”
“Hey,” said Patrick. David looked up slowly.
“You okay? I’m glad you came over. I can get out so we can hang out.”
David shook out his hands. “No, no, it’s okay, I didn’t mean to interrupt your bath, I can —”
“Really, I’m just about pruny anyways. Let me rinse off and get dry and we can watch some Food Network?”
David scrunched his shoulders but gave a small smile. “Okay,” he said softly. “And also thank you for not mentioning pruny fingertips to our customers.”
David left and Patrick drained the tub before quickly rinsing the soap suds off his body with the shower. Soon thereafter, he and David were cuddled up on the couch with some stove-popped popcorn and Worst Cooks in America playing on the TV.
David was half-draped on top of Patrick, the stress that had sent him fleeing the motel seeping out of his body as Patrick rubbed his back.
“You know, feel free to take a bath of your own, if you want. Have a holiday observance.”
David looked Patrick right in the eye. “No.”