I immediately begin to turn the locks on the door. As each lock clacks
into place I begin to grow more and more excited.
I have my hand on the third lock when I realize that someone is standing right behind me
I have my hand on the third lock when I realize that someone is standing right behind me
“Were not supposed to ever unlock that door, never ever,” says
Jonathan causing me to jump out of my skin. “How did you get in here?” I
stammer. “Were not allowed to have a lock on the bathroom door” he says spittle
forming in the corner of his mouth. I look at him and can feel that my eyes are
wide. “Come to think of it I don’t remember locking the bathroom door,” I think
to myself. How long has Jonathan been standing there and how does he think it’s
ok to come into the bathroom while I’m in there.
“What’s behind the door?” I ask. “Not supposed to open it,” Jonathan
quickly responds. “Aren’t you curious?” I ask. “Not supposed to open it,”
Jonathan says again. I can tell that he is getting slightly agitated. “No?” I
ask clicking back the last lock. “Not supposed to open it,” Jonathan adds
growing more agitated. He is an over medicated zombie so this must really be
making him nuts. I am enjoying seeing where our boundaries are and just how
much I can get away with him.
“No?” I ask grabbing the handle. Now Jonathan goes ballistic “Not
supposed to open it!” he screams. Just like in every good horror movie the door
opens with a horrifying squeak. Jonathan immediately stops talking and looks at
me. “Aren’t you excited?” I ask. Jonathan just stares at me as if I have opened
Pandora ’s Box.
I stick my head through the door and realize that I am upstairs in the
group home. It is clear that this door is supposed to keep the group home kids
out of independent living. I walk into the hall and somewhere I can hear
muffled talking. I walk further down the hall. There are three bedrooms
upstairs and at the end of the hall is a staircase. The talking is coming from
downstairs.
I look back up the hall and see that Jonathan has not come out of the
bathroom.
Slowly I walk down the first three steps. The talking gets louder but
it sounds like it is somewhere else in the house. It sounds as if someone is on
the phone because I only hear one side of the conversation. I walk down slowly
several more steps and peer around the corner. My head is in the kitchen and
through the next doorway I see a large woman with her back to me, one hand on
her hip and the phone pressed to her ear.
Quietly, I turn around and start to head back up the stairs and down
the hallway. I step back into my bathroom but the thought that Jonathan might
close the door and lock me out flashes through my head.
I close and lock the door to the hallway and walk back into my
apartment.
Jonathan is standing there in a Lithium haze and seems to have fallen
asleep again in mid thought. As I shout his name he teeters out of his haze and
looks at me. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he says his lips smacking together
while he tries to form his thoughts. “And you’re not going to tell anyone,” I
say pointing a finger into his face.
To be continued……..
Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.