The woman next door was a doctoral candidate at the university I'd graduated from two years earlier. One of my windows showed the courtyard of the apartment complex, and I'd see her sometimes, leaving in the morning or returning in the late afternoon. I didn't know her much, enough to chat a little if we passed in the courtyard. She was Ann, plain and pretty in spots. Her boyfriend was a big Sioux Indian with lots of scars from knife-fights on the reservation. The cops had show up at her unit a couple times. It wasn't my business, not even when I went over to borrow a bread pan one afternoon in the summer.
I knocked on the screen door and a moment later I heard her voice calling out, asking who was there? I said, "Alex." After a moment's hesitation she called out again, telling me to come in. I stepped inside, looking around as the door closed noisily behind me on a spring.
"I'm in the bathroom," she yelled.
It was a smallish apartment. The bathroom was to the right of the kitchen and the bedroom was left. The bathroom door was partly open and I stood there for moment wondering about it.
"Are you still there," she called.
"Yes," I said.
"I'm in the bathroom," she repeated.
I hesitated again and then stuck my head past the door thinking, OK.
"Hello, Alex." she said. "Just gonna stand there?"
I stepped inside the bathroom and sat on the toilet lid. She was lying in the tub, of course. The water was halfway up and had the remnants of a bubble bath. She wasn't smiling. Instead, she had a diabolic expression on her face-- measuring my thoughts, maybe. My first impressions were that she was either crazy or simply one of the uninhibited types.
"Close the door," she said. I pushed it shut with my foot.
"Do you like me?" she asked.
"What's not to like?" I said, "You're pretty."
She pushed her hips out of the water. "Is this pretty?" she asked.
"Yeah," I said, "it's pretty."
