It’s a common sight for girls to go to the washroom in ‘packs.’ I have always thought of it as a kind of sisterly solidarity. But it wasn’t until the day I went alone to the second floor washroom in the Accounts, Business, and Finance Building that I realized it might be for a whole different reason.
Our professor had given us a 15-minute break and I wanted to retouch my makeup to look more presentable. I would have asked one of my friends to accompany me, but they all seemed engrossed in some tea being spilled, so I decided not to interrupt their momentum.
The washroom was only a short walk from our classroom. Once I got there, it was empty, just like I had expected. The lights seemed to be a little dimmer than usual, but the bulbs probably just needed changing. I chose the mirror in the middle as it had better lighting.
The stall that had an “UNDER MAINTENANCE” sign stood in my peripheral vision. It had been tagged like that since the first day of classes, so it was really nothing new to me.
I was applying some caramel-colored lip balm with my pinky when I heard it. It was so faint that I doubt it would have been noticeable if it weren’t for the complete silence of the empty washroom.
Hm. Hmm. Hmmm.
It must have been from someone passing by. The humming was soft, in a tone that was almost feminine. It momentarily filled the air as gently as a lullaby would. Turning on the faucet, I tried to wash off the smudges of makeup that stained the tips of my fingers. Once I had gotten most of them off, I reached for a tissue to dry my hands.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed a blur pass me by, donning a shade of green similar to the Institute polo shirt I was wearing. I was about to put the finishing touches on my look and hair when I suddenly felt a sort of tingling crawl on my skin. An uneasy feeling covered me from head to toe, and I suddenly grew conscious of my every move, as if someone was watching me.
Glancing behind me, my blood ran cold when I realized that I was still alone. No one occupied the sinks beside mine nor was anyone in any of the stalls. I could have sworn that someone walked inside just seconds ago.
I still could not shake the feeling that someone’s eyes were focused on me.
Another flash of green flickered on my left. I turned, only to find empty air.
I blinked several times, rubbing my eyes harshly until they started to sting slightly. The fluorescent lights left faint smudges of color wherever I looked, patches lingering for a second before fading away. Maybe that was it. A trick of the light, an aftermath of staring at myself for too long.
Returning my gaze to the mirror, I still couldn’t bring myself to look directly at the space where I thought I had seen it.
Hm. Hmm. HMMM.
I don’t know how and I, most certainly, don’t know why, but the humming seemed to have grown louder. Perhaps I was simply becoming more aware of it? It bounced off the walls, making it difficult to pinpoint the source. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that it came from the stall in the far corner. I stared at the bold letters that spelled out “UNDER MAINTENANCE” and the subheading that politely apologized for any inconvenience caused.
The exact stall that none of us had ever been able to use.
I have watched enough movies to know that I shouldn’t stay here to find out.
Snatching my makeup kit off the tiled counter, I practically flew out of the washroom, desperate to put as much distance between myself and the stall as quickly as humanly possible.
I had arrived back at the classroom just in the nick of time. Our professor was asking the class to settle down as he prepared to start the discussion. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding as I sank back into my seat.
“Hey,” my friend, Bea, whispered from my right. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I merely looked at her, biting my lip as I tried to find the words to explain something I couldn’t even understand myself.
When she raised a brow in further question, I simply shrugged and gave her a reassuring smile. Not having enough courage to say it out loud without having to explain it all:
I should have asked you to come with me.
- Toni Gabrielle L. Eusores
(Photo courtesy of Franchesca Collantes/When In Manila)