Chapter Five
Sissy
Did I really just do that?
I race to the sink and grab the bleach out from beneath it. My hand starts to sting as I pour it onto the wrench. It causes me to drop it in the sink. A tiny cut I hadn’t noticed before graces my palm just below the burn bandage, turning an angry shade of red from the chemical.
Must have been from the teacup earlier.
I quickly scrub down the wrench and dry it off with a hand towel hanging on the oven door before dropping the wrench and the bleach back under the sink. My feet take on a mind of their own and begin pacing the floor like a marathon runner. My hands aren’t in much better shape as they twist and untwist the towel around my hands and wrists. Both move faster and faster like they are in competition with one another until they have my heart pounding.
I come to a stop in front of my medicine bottle. I can’t take anymore pills. I am already over my limit for the day and I fear that not being in a completely sober state of mind was one of the reasons I struck Mark to begin with. Plus, I barely have enough to make it to my next refill.
Whimpering in frustration, I scurry to the bathroom and start the tub. The steam fills the air as I strip off my clothes and add oils to the bath. My reflection in the mirror is a sad one. Blah, stick-straight, light-brown hair rubs my shoulders. The flat color worsens my complexion and makes me look sick. I always thought I resembled a cancer patient waiting for their hair to fall out.
I sigh and yank the hair back on my head putting a tie around it. Then, I sink into the water and rest back against the ice-cold tub, closing my eyes as I wait for it to finish filling.
“Jesus Christ!” The shout startles me and I jerk up, sliding in the tub and almost beneath the water that is overflowing onto the floor. “I get it! You have water, I don’t. Are you trying to prove to everyone in the building that you have water too?”
Lydia twists the handles on the old clawfoot tub. The water shuts off, but not before the pipes groan and rattle. It sounds like they are mocking her. Her hands go to her hips, and she turns on me with her lips pursed.
The fact she is in my bathroom—one of us nude, the other almost nude—finally clicks in my foggy brain. My knees slide up to my chest, and my arms wrap around them as I look at her with confusion.
“How—why are you here? In my bathroom?”
“Really? Of all questions, you’re gonna ask me that first?” Her head bobs, and she wags her finger at me. “Okay, I’ll play.”
I watch in wonder as Lydia lean down and runs her fingers over the top of the water. Obviously satisfied with it, she lifts one leg and steps into the tub.
I can feel my eyes growing larger, my breath catching in my lungs as her other foot follows the first one. I scramble backwards, and she sits on the other end, sloshing more water over the sides of the tub. She stretches her arms along both sides, gripping the edges, and cocks her head staring at me.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asks in all seriousness.
“What’s wrong with me?” I sputter out, waving my hand in her direction. “What’s wrong with you? You just walked into my bathroom and got into the bath with me!”
Lydia’s brows jerk up to her hairline. “After you broke into my apartment and clobbered our landlord with a wrench. I don’t really think you can point fingers right now, Susie Q.”
“Sissy!” I shout as I frantically stare over the side of the tub, wondering how long the water was running to have the small ocean in my floor.
“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes. “The real problem is this. I have a pissed off Mark, who is thankfully fixing my sink right now, but doesn’t believe that I was so hot that he knocked himself out trying to get a better look at me. Capiche?”
Her statement keeps the words from falling out my mouth, and it flaps open and closed several times as I attempt to register what she said.
“I know. I’m shocked too. Who the hell wouldn’t knock themselves out to get a look at me in this getup?” She pulls at one of the straps of her lingerie. “It would hurt my feelings if I gave a fuck, but I don’t. What I do care about is having to deal with Mark’s wrath when I didn’t do shit except offer him some ass to fix my sink today.” She settles back against the tub and shuts her eyes on a loud sigh. “All I wanted was fucking coffee.”
All I can do is stare at her. I thought I was brave, sneaking into her apartment to do a neighborly deed so she wouldn’t have to deal with Mark. But here she sits, in my bathtub of all places, rubbing against my nude body, and she isn’t even fazed by it. I must be dreaming.
I reach over and pinch her. She slaps my hand away as she jerks up in the tub.
“What the fuck?”
My shoulders rise and fall on their own. “I thought I was dreaming.”
Exasperated, she spits, “Pinch yourself, then. Not other people.”
“Why would I do that? It hurts.”
She opens her mouth, but snaps it shut just as quickly. Her intent stare makes me wonder if she can read my thoughts and is shuffling through my mind. I think I feel her in my head. The disturbing part isn’t that I can feel her, it’s that I don’t think it feels half bad. Only bad things can come from that. It has to stop.
