In the Apple

Chapter 14

His apartment was nothing but a small bedroom with a single bed in the middle, a sink, tiny strip of counter and an electric ring on the wall facing the door, a chest of drawers on the opposite wall, and a tiny table with one chair against the wall at the end of the bed. There was also a door in that well, and Smithy pointed to it and said, "There's the bathroom. There's a clean towel and washcloth in there if you want them. Oh, the light switch is there," he added, pointing to the right of the door.

Timidly, I flicked the switch and turned the doorknob. The door seemed to meet resistance as it swung inward; I stuck my head around it and saw that the sink prevented it from opening any further. I edged around the door into the bathroom, and closed the door behind me. I looked for a lock, but there wasn't one. I stood, still feeling timid, and looked around me in astonishment. It was the smallest bathroom I'd ever seen, and everything in it was appropriately miniature. It had a little toilet bolted to the wall. At first there didn't appear to be either a flusher or a tank, but then I noticed a dangling chain, followed its path with my eyes, and saw a tank bolted to the wall higher up. Amazing, I thought. At a 45-degree angle to the toilet was a tiny sink, just barely wider than the faucet handles. Across from the toilet was the strangest bathtub I'd ever seen. It fit into a corner and was, perhaps, as high as my waist. There was a little door in the side, and I wondered how it worked without leaking around the door seals. On a towel rail suspended above the tub was a fresh-looking towel and facecloth and, after a brief hesitation, I accepted Smithy's offer, took the facecloth, and opened the taps in the sink. The cool water felt heavenly and I splashed and splashed it on my face, not caring how wet my hair got. I kicked my sandals off, removed my dress, and draped it over the bath. I wet the facecloth and began to wash my arms and armpits, savouring the feel of the water. I washed the back of my neck and bent over the sink to splash my face again. Just as I did, the door to the bathroom banged open fiercely, hitting me in the back of the legs. Startled, I jerked my head up. Reflected in the polished tin mirror above the sink was an angry woman's face. I tried to turn around but the door was still pressing against my legs. Without a word, the woman backed off enough to release the door's pressure. As soon as I turned and moved away from the sink, she slammed it open again and came nose to nose with me. "And just what do you think you're doing?" she demanded furiously.