The first time I saw her, she was brushing her teeth. She had just moved in with her boyfriend in the unit below me. It was a U-shaped apartment building in Albany Park and my kitchen window was on the wall that was adjacent to their bathroom window. She always stood for a long time in front of the mirror as she brushed her teeth. I was surprised they never put a curtain or shade over the window. I don’t think she and her boyfriend knew how easy it was for me to view them. That was the only room in their apartment where I could see them. I would watch her at night as she stood by the sink, tossing her long black hair away from her face while she brushed with vigorous strokes. I never saw anyone brush their teeth so hard.
Even though their bathroom window was small, I was able to see the profile of her face and her body about down to her knees. Sometimes she wore underwear, but most often she was nude. I never made it a habit of waiting for her because there was no predictable rhythm to her habits. At random points throughout the day and evening, I would look through my kitchen window to see if she was there. Most often the bathroom was dark, but then there were those times when I would see her standing by the sink. I would always turn off the light in my kitchen and stand in the dark to watch her.
On some nights I felt disappointed when I saw her boyfriend standing in his boxer shorts brushing his teeth. He also used quick vigorous strokes. I always thought he was brushing his teeth in an angry manner. His whole elbow would bounce up and down and his biceps bulged as he brushed away. I always thought using a toothbrush was merely wrist action.
I had been watching her for the last three weeks. It was during the time that I had to stay home from work. I told my boss, Sidney, that I had some mental health issues and I needed a little break. It was panic attacks. For three weeks I stayed at home when the panic attacks started. I only felt safe inside my apartment. I was always prone to some minor panic attacks in the past, but they were never bad enough to keep me at home. The major attacks had started three weeks ago when I saw a fire burn through an apartment building that was across the street from where I lived. It was a large apartment building where all the druggies in the neighborhood lived. I, along with other neighbors, was convinced that most of the crime in the neighborhood was committed by the people who lived in that building. That night I stood on the sidewalk and watched the fire blaze through the building, flames leaping through a number of windows on the first floor while on the upper floors people screamed for help. A few fire trucks rumbled down the street and the roar of their engines vibrated my chest while the pitch of their sirens made my eyes tear. As I watched the scene, a panic grew within me that made me feel light headed. I felt a strong sense of urgency to get back to my apartment. It was difficult to walk the few feet back to my building because my knees felt rubbery and I could hardly breathe. By the time I got home, I had a full-blown panic attack. My heart pounded so hard that I felt like I was going to die. Since that incident, I have felt a panic attack coming on whenever I tried to leave the house.