Author: R. J. Erbacher
I had just stepped into my shower, having had to wait a full five minutes for the water to become hot enough. It took forever for the water temperature to get up to at least tepid in my apartment. Usually, it was either freezing cold or scalding with no middle ground. The shower was a small stall, plastic walls, glass doors, low water pressure; thoroughly apathetic. Not even a tub in this dump, if I wanted a bath I had to check into a hotel. As I gazed through the not nearly clear doors, I noticed the profusion of dried soap dots and realized it had been a while since I cleaned in here. Put it on the to-do list. I rinsed my torso and took the bar of soap off the shelf and started to lather up.
My thoughts went to all the other stuff that was on my list for today. I was swamped at work, and I had that big project the boss had dumped on me yesterday. Even getting there on time was going to be a hassle with the reported train delays. And then tonight that stupid party I was obligated to attend with undoubtedly bad food and boring people. God, that was going to be terrible.
I was about to step into the spray to wash off the detritus when the lights flickered out. I sighed. Not uncommon in this old building, the circuit breakers were popping all the time. With no window and the bathroom door closed the room was unviable black. It was so dark that there was no difference with my eyes open or closed. Well, the towel was on a hook right next to the shower, and I knew where everything was on my body and as long as I didn’t drop the soap, I should be fine. I let the water wash over me and it was invigorating. Maybe with no sight my other senses were sharpening and it felt amazing. As if I wasn’t just washing the scum from my skin but I was scrubbing my soul clean.
I happened to look through the door and I noticed the pattern of white spots had multiplied and become impossibly brighter. I shouldn’t even be able to see them in the dark. I reached out a wet hand to see if the image would wipe away and realized there was no glass panel. I wasn’t looking at soap specks but…stars.
What the hell?
I reached for the towel and it wasn’t there. The towel wasn’t there because the hook wasn’t there, and the hook wasn’t there because the wall wasn’t there. Perplexed, I groped around for the control handle to turn off the water and paused. At that moment the wonderful spray was the only tangible aspect I still had, and I didn’t want to lose it, so I let it run.
Up above me I saw more miraculous stars. There should have been a ceiling and five more stories of my apartment building. They were all gone. The stars were more beautiful than I had ever seen. In the city you barely catch a glimpse of their splendor except on that rare clear night but even then, they never looked like this.
I held onto the built-in handrail and tentatively put my toes out, stretching for the floor mat. No mat; no floor. My entire reality was ultimately limited to three walls of plastic and a showerhead.
Well, I still had the pleasing cascade of warm water, so I went back to my shower. I didn’t have to worry about how I was getting to work or if I was late. And my workload had just been reduced to zero. No party to attend so I was good there. As a matter of fact, I didn’t have a care in the world. For the first time in my life, I was going to take a nice long relaxing shower.
And marvel at the spectacular stars.