Thin Doors
The obsessive compulsive woman living next door to me woke me up again this morning. Every day when she leaves for work she locks her door, then pushes and pulls it shut five times. These five bangs are a nice snooze alarm; they happen a few minutes after my alarm goes off. Her back door, attached to her kitchen, mirrors mine, and at night I can see when she’s hungry. Her kitchen light turns on with five blinks. I can see when she’s done, because her kitchen light turns off with five blinks. Sometimes I leave my apartment the same time she does. I follow her down the stairs. She pauses after descending five steps, then again after the 10th. She descends four more, takes one step into the lobby, then pauses again. I smell her perfume, Yves Saint Laurent Rive Gauche. It was discontinued in the US for five years, then relaunched a year ago.
The woman who lives next door to me is obsessive compulsive. When she’s in the kitchen she turns the light on five times to cook, then turns it off five times when she goes to bed. When she leaves her apartment in the morning at 8:10, she pulls her door shut loudly five times. She is my snooze alarm, making five loud bangs five minutes after my alarm goes off. When I have to go to work early, I follow her out of the building. Going down the stairs she pauses after every fifth step. She smells like Rive Gauche perfume, which I’ve smelled only on five women; my mom, my sister, the woman at the buffet line in Marseilles, and a gay man who lives around the corner.
I set my alarm to go off every day at 8:05. I normally go back to sleep. At 8:10 the obsessive compulsive woman who lives next to me wakes me up. I hear five loud bangs when she jolts her door shut to be sure it’s locked. The staircase leading outside is next to my front wall; I can hear her make five creaks down the stairs, pause, then creak five more times, until she leaves the building. Sometimes when I have my windows open, her Rive Gauche perfumed air flows under my door and into my room. Sometimes if I hear her in the hallway I wait for her to pass before leaving my apartment. I don’t want to interrupt her cycle. If my back door is open, sometimes I can see the light from her kitchen turn on five times, remain on, then turn off five times.
Obsessive compulsive disorder affects the woman who lives next to me. When I’m at my computer, working or looking at porn, I can see her kitchen light turn on five times. I imagine how much stress this adds to the pull chain on the kitchen light and wonder how many times she’s had to replace it. There is a store down in Roscoe Village that sells beaded chains; the owners have a minivan whose license plates say BEAD LDY. I wonder if she’s gone there to buy more pull chains. Yesterday, I had to leave my apartment early. My neighbor was pulling the door shut five times as I passed her. She carried her garbage in a white plastic bag. In it, I could see a flattened blue, silver, and black box that packages Rive Gauche, the perfume by Yves Saint Laurent. I thundered down the steps before she did so I could make it to the early meeting at work.
My obsessive compulsive neighbor, the woman who lives next door, wears Rive Gauche perfume. This morning I was leaving at my usual time to go to work; she was leaving at the same time as well. This is an hour later than she normally leaves. I was locking my door as she exited her apartment; I said, “Good Morning!” She looked at me, then stepped backwards into her apartment, closed the door, then opened it, walked out again, and said “Hungh.” She turned to lock her door. As she was locking it I said, “How are you?” She made another noise; with full body she leaned into the door jam and pulled her door shut; I counted one, two, three, four. Four. She didn’t close it a fifth time. She looked at me, one eye was trembling. I unlocked my door, went back inside my apartment, then closed it. I heard a fifth bang. The refrigerator started humming, and I realized I was holding my breath. I heard five creaks down the stair, a pause, then five more. I exhaled and left my apartment.
The woman who lives next door to me is obsessive compulsive. When she’s in the kitchen she turns the light on five times to cook, then turns it off five times when she goes to bed. When she leaves her apartment in the morning at 8:10, she pulls her door shut loudly five times. She is my snooze alarm, making five loud bangs five minutes after my alarm goes off. When I have to go to work early, I follow her out of the building. Going down the stairs she pauses after every fifth step. She smells like Rive Gauche perfume, which I’ve smelled only on five women; my mom, my sister, the woman at the buffet line in Marseilles, and a gay man who lives around the corner.
I set my alarm to go off every day at 8:05. I normally go back to sleep. At 8:10 the obsessive compulsive woman who lives next to me wakes me up. I hear five loud bangs when she jolts her door shut to be sure it’s locked. The staircase leading outside is next to my front wall; I can hear her make five creaks down the stairs, pause, then creak five more times, until she leaves the building. Sometimes when I have my windows open, her Rive Gauche perfumed air flows under my door and into my room. Sometimes if I hear her in the hallway I wait for her to pass before leaving my apartment. I don’t want to interrupt her cycle. If my back door is open, sometimes I can see the light from her kitchen turn on five times, remain on, then turn off five times.
Obsessive compulsive disorder affects the woman who lives next to me. When I’m at my computer, working or looking at porn, I can see her kitchen light turn on five times. I imagine how much stress this adds to the pull chain on the kitchen light and wonder how many times she’s had to replace it. There is a store down in Roscoe Village that sells beaded chains; the owners have a minivan whose license plates say BEAD LDY. I wonder if she’s gone there to buy more pull chains. Yesterday, I had to leave my apartment early. My neighbor was pulling the door shut five times as I passed her. She carried her garbage in a white plastic bag. In it, I could see a flattened blue, silver, and black box that packages Rive Gauche, the perfume by Yves Saint Laurent. I thundered down the steps before she did so I could make it to the early meeting at work.
My obsessive compulsive neighbor, the woman who lives next door, wears Rive Gauche perfume. This morning I was leaving at my usual time to go to work; she was leaving at the same time as well. This is an hour later than she normally leaves. I was locking my door as she exited her apartment; I said, “Good Morning!” She looked at me, then stepped backwards into her apartment, closed the door, then opened it, walked out again, and said “Hungh.” She turned to lock her door. As she was locking it I said, “How are you?” She made another noise; with full body she leaned into the door jam and pulled her door shut; I counted one, two, three, four. Four. She didn’t close it a fifth time. She looked at me, one eye was trembling. I unlocked my door, went back inside my apartment, then closed it. I heard a fifth bang. The refrigerator started humming, and I realized I was holding my breath. I heard five creaks down the stair, a pause, then five more. I exhaled and left my apartment.
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