Selapher

     Selapher hangs her bath robe on the bathroom door. It is not in the middle though. Out of the consideration for space there is a towel rack that is very long hanging from the top. It occupies the middle. To the right of it is a hook we got at Target. It is plastic and sticks out about five inches. This allows the user to hang something on the hook as well as to put hangers on. The door is white and so is the hook. Come to think of it the towel rack is as well. White in a bathroom is sanitary. You don’t even need to clean when everything is white.
     My favorite towel is white. It is think and soaky. Selapher stole it when she went to a nice hotel once.
     The towel and the towel rack are nice. I also enjoy our other towels. When I was fat I hated towels that didn’t go all the way around me. It made me very self conscious of my girth. Now I am comfortable with all of our towels. I cannot say at this time that I am bothered by any of them. It is pleasing to like all of the units of a set.
     I am not enamored at all with the bath robe that hangs on the hook. It has been a bone of contention for me for about two years now. The robe is extremely heavy. It is beige and yellow and has a pattern. The pattern is square-esqe. You know, squares. I suppose it is square. A square by any other name….Well you could call it plaid. I think the pattern is the official hotel Selapher took that from. Yeah, she stole a robe too.
     Weight is the key here. I am certain of this. I took a physical science class once in college and ripped up the fucker. King of the class, I was. The fact I got an 81 isn’t indicative of my ability. The professor was jealous of me. All the ladies in class just sat there staring at me the whole time. Slack jawed and in rapture of my beauty. I was coy but they did not escape my notice.
     I learned enough in that class. To know why the towel caused me such great annoyance. It is physics. Physics that I learned in class, in lab, in life. It was evil physics.
     Every time I open the door the robe was in my way. If I tried to close the door to go to the bathroom the robe impeded the closing. The action of the door actually swung the towel. The inertia of the robe continued even after the door changed direction. So when I went to close the door the robe would fly halfway out and squish.
     Wedged in the door.
     Now, you may think, what’s the big deal? Well I will tell you. It is called paranoid uptightness. I have a little psychological issue. I thought that every time I used the bathroom, someone was outside listening. Whether I was standing or sitting, the fear of a terribly human noise escaping the confines of the lavatory were too much for me. I cannot stand public toilets and I still can’t. I still always run the sink to cover up any possible noise.
     Wedged in the door.
     Selapher kept the robe there. She didn’t know my quandary, I thought. It hung like the sword of Damocles over my head. In a figurative sense. I could not bring myself to think that any one does anything out of malice. I was convinced that everything bad is done out of disregard or insanity.
     The brain is a machine.
     The body is a machine. It is the greatest machine ever made. An organic achievement beyond anything we can ever imagine. The problem is that like all machines, the body breaks. The brain breaks. There is no warranty, no money back guarantee. You can change the oil and replace the parts but eventually it all breaks down. Stops, just stops working eventually.
     Especially the brain. My computer up there doesn’t work like it used to. It gets confused and confounded.
     I felt her listening to me that night. In the bathroom. She must’ve been awakened by the constant shutting and then slamming of the door. I closed the door, the robe swung to block. Ten, twenty times it went on. I smashed my fingers trying to keep it out. Finally I pushed the door to ever so slightly when the robe wasn’t looking. It was preoccupied by the Pol Pot painting on the wall of the shower. Sometimes I think they would communicate. The arm of the robe rose for a salute and there was my chance. SLAM! Door shut. “In your face robe”, I thought. I sat down and listened.
     I turned on the faucet and relaxed keeping ever vigilant. A few moments passed and I was certain I heard a creak outside of the door. The old house would give away anyone trying to sneak up on me. All bodily functions ceased as I made myself more aware than ever before. Pol Pot seemed to stare at me and I drew the shower curtain too. Nothing. Silence. I relaxed again and there was the tell tale creak. I leaned forward. Nothing more.
     This went on for what seemed hours. Agonizing hours. Me, Pol Pot and the robe. Crowded together in that bathroom. Somehow I was able to finally calm down enough to do my business. At that very moment a loud knock came at the door. I jerked in a fit of fright and my heart seized. The pain was excruciating and I fell over onto the ground. It seemed as though an iron hand was chocking the life out of me. I lay there, losing consciousness and breath. The life draining from me.
     The heart attack was swift and it was my end. As the last light of life faded from my eyes I heard Selapher as if in a distant voice speak through the door. In my darkness I heard her say,
     “Charlie, have you seen my robe?”