Last Thursday evening, I stayed up ridiculously late with Steven. It isn’t uncommon for us to stay up watching movies or talking as we are both nocturnal, however, this particular night, we were awake later, or earlier, depending on how you want to look at it, than normal. Steven mentioned coming by Friday morning to insure I would be awake on time. I assured him it was unnecessary but he insisted. When we’ve stayed up far too late in the past, he’s made mention of this same gesture, though he has never followed through so I assumed this case would be the same.
I live with my sister Audrey, nearly 21 years old and my friend Kelly, ten years Audrey’s senior. The three of us have varied schedules. Audrey works during the evening, while Kelly leaves an hour before I awake. I make mention of this because Kelly and I make concerted effort not to rouse Audrey from slumber in the am hours. While I am able to sleep through considerable noise, Audrey is awakened by the slightest of sound.
I awoke Friday morning, groggy and tired after only a handful of hours of sleep. I entered my shower, as I do every morning, half asleep. My bathroom is attached to my bedroom and when both the bedroom and bathroom doors are shut, little can be heard on the other side of the doors. While rinsing the shampoo from my hair, I open my eyes to discover the 6 foot tall silhouette of a man through the frosted glass shower door. Initially paralyzed, I released a blood curdling, guttural yell which even alarmed and frightened Steven, the man behind the blurry shadow. Startled and exhausted, Steven stated through laughter, “I told you I was going to wake you up. Wow! Your scream scared me! Who else could it have been?! You had to have known it was me!” Obviously, I did not upon initially discovering the creepy “Norman Bates” like figure in my bathroom. I still owe him one for the near heart attack.
Oddly, Audrey did not hear a thing. I am not sure which is more unnerving, the incident itself or Audrey’s oblivion. She normally hears a pin drop, a feather fall, but she didn’t hear the sound of my voice at its highest pitch. Eek.
I can recall times in the past when I showered with one eye open, periodically pulling back the shower curtain to confirm I was the only one present. Perhaps my psyche has been tainted by too many scary movies, or maybe I opted to weigh on the side of caution. More perplexing, the “Psycho” shower scene has never been thought of in my current residence. I attribute this to the absence of a shower curtain. This is further proof worry and fear are often needless, but I’ll probably still lock my bathroom door. As a child, I always wondered if Jaws was going to appear in the swimming pool (I really did,) so perhaps I should also swim with my eyes open. I can just see Steven, swimming in the pool, shark fin atop his head. Duh-nah-duh-nah-duh-nah...Gosh, I'm probably giving him ideas. Maybe I should tell him I'm afraid of the Cinderella story. A girl can never have too many glass slippers.
I'm not sure who is more frightening in this photo...