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Matt hauls his gym bag over one shoulder, pushes the door open from Fogwell’s Gym, and is met with the muggy, oppressive, choking heat of a New York August. He’s already hot and sweaty from working out for an hour and now he has the two mile walk home with the summer heat pressing itself against his skin. As he walks, cane tapping a path in front of him, he focuses on the promise of a long, cool shower as soon as he gets back to his apartment. Nothing sounds better than standing under the spray, letting the water cool his skin and ease the tension in his muscles.
When Matt finally steps into his blissfully air-conditioned apartment, he drops his bag by the couch and heads directly into the bathroom. He tosses his sweat-soaked clothes into the corner, turns on the shower, and steps in. Matt sighs with contentment; the water is perfectly cool and refreshing and he spends several long minutes simply letting it wash over him. Eventually he picks up his shampoo and scrubs it into his hair, the light scent of peppermint filling the bathroom. He starts to rinse when the water pressure suddenly drops, the shower head now only spraying weakly.
Matt knows he shouldn’t be as annoyed by this as he is. The building is old and the plumbing isn’t great – if anyone on the same floor tries to take a shower, the water pressure drops to a frankly pathetic level. But Matt had spent over a half an hour walking home in the heat and humidity, thinking only of how pleasant it would be to rinse off once he got back to his apartment. And now some asshole on the third floor feels the need to take a shower at the exact same time.
Matt listens, trying to determine which shower is in use so he can at least have somewhere to direct his resentment, and identifies the sound of water as coming from the other side of the bathroom wall. His apartment and the one adjacent to it are joined on the back wall, and happen to have bathrooms that mirror each other across it. At least now he can be annoyed with the jerk in 3C.
To be fair, he’s never met the occupant of 3C, and for all he knows they could be great, but right now they are simply The Jerk Who Ruined My Long Awaited Shower. Nevertheless, Matt figures he should continue washing off, even with the subpar water pressure, and he lathers the bar of soap between his hands. The shower is still refreshing and cool and he’s almost forgiven 3C when –
“WHEN I WAKE UP, YEAH I KNOW I’M GONNA BE, I’M GONNA BE THE MAN WHO WAKES UP NEXT TO YOU!”
3C is singing – if it can even be called that – at the maximum possible volume and unbelievably out of tune. It’s so out of tune Matt would think it was intentional, except for how this man (he can now identify him by the voice) is singing absolutely earnestly, doing a ridiculous Scottish accent and everything. Matt’s annoyance ratchets back up because not only is this man ruining the water pressure and singing as obnoxiously as possible, he clearly has terrible taste in music. Matt hates this song and its annoying, repetitive lyrics and its annoying tune and its annoying accent. He decides to cut short what would otherwise have been a long, relaxing shower because he doesn’t want to be forced to listen to this awful rendition of a truly awful song.
“WHEN I GO OUT, YEAH I KNOW I’M GONNA BE, I’M GONNA BE THE MAN WHO GOES ALONG WITH YOU!”
Matt rinses the soap off his body and goes to turn off the water, but hesitates. Because, when he puts aside his annoyance about the water pressure, the situation is actually pretty amusing. 3C is really getting into the song, accent becoming even more overdone. Matt can picture him dancing around in the shower and singing into a shampoo bottle. Whoever this guy is, he’s got enough of a sense of humor to sing despite a complete lack of talent and not worry about anyone listening. Matt hasn’t known someone that goofy and uninhibited in a while; living in Hell’s Kitchen kind of sucks that out of you.
3C keeps singing and Matt can’t help but crack a grin as he listens to him come up on the chorus.
“BUT I WOULD WALK FIVE HUNDRED MILES! AND I WOULD WALK FIVE HUNDRED MORE! JUST TO BE THE MAN WHO WALKED A THOUSAND MILES TO FALL DOWN AT YOUR DOOR!”
3C slams something – presumably the shower wall – on the chorus to simulate the pounding, obnoxious backbeat. Matt actually laughs out loud at this point, guffaw echoing around the bathroom. He slaps a hand over his mouth, hoping 3C hadn’t heard, but the singing continues as if nothing had happened.
As Matt listens, he’s struck with a bizarre impulse – he wants to join in. Matt’s never been a goofy or spontaneous person, but 3C’s joie de vivre is contagious. Matt admits he’s not a great singer, never in the church choir or anything, but his doesn’t think he’s going to receive much judgment for that. He tells himself he’s going to join in on the next chorus, but he loses the nerve. Because… well… he’s about to sing a duet naked with a naked stranger. He’s aware they’re separated by the shower wall, but it still feels strangely intimate and also a little weird. But at the very least it will make a good story, he tells himself, and he may never have the opportunity to do something like this again. So finally, when the chorus comes around again, he joins in the singing at the top of his lungs.
“BUT I WOULD WALK FIVE HUNDRED MILES! AND I WOULD WALK FIVE HUNDRED MORE! JUST TO BE THE MAN WHO WALKED A THOUSAND MILES TO FALL DOWN AT YOUR DOOR!”
It’s an exhilarating feeling, acting like a complete idiot with someone he doesn’t know and Matt has to hold back is laughter. They sing the “da-da-da-das” of the bridge back and forth to each other before they come up on the chorus for the last time. Matt sucks in a deep breath and scream-sings as loud as he possibly can. He only just finishes before collapsing in a fit of laughter. 3C applauds and wolf whistles which only makes Matt laugh harder.
Matt turns off the water and grabs a towel from the rack to dry off. He finds himself humming that stupid song for the rest of the day.
xXx
Matt doesn’t have another shower duet for a week and a half, and not for lack of trying. He gets in the shower the following day at the exact same time he and 3C had been there the day before, hoping he won’t be the only one trying to recreate the incident, but the water pressure stays consistent for the entire time. No duets. He starts showering twice a day – morning and evening – to see if he can catch his shower duet partner, but he’s unsuccessful. Matt even listens for the water or off-key singing, thinking he could coincidentally end up in the shower at the same time, but he never hears anything. Either 3C has a very weird schedule or he seriously neglects personal hygiene. Either way, Matt’s a little frustrated that they haven’t met up again.
Finally, almost a fortnight later, as he’s washing up before bed, the water pressure dips. It could be anyone else on the floor – not necessarily 3C – but Matt’s heart skips a beat anyway. He listens closely and… Yes! That is definitely the water running on the other side of the wall. He doesn’t have to wait long until –
“I THREW A WISH IN THE WELL! DON’T ASK ME I’LL NEVER TELL! I LOOKED TO YOU AS IT FELL AND NOW YOU’RE IN MY WAY!”
This selection only confirms Matt’s assumption that this guy has the worst taste in music of anyone Matt’s ever known. “Call Me Maybe” is a horrible song, no question. But it’s also a horribly catchy song, and as much as Matt hates to admit it, he’s pretty sure he knows all the words. However, like last time, he waits until the chorus before belting it out.
“HEY I JUST MET YOU! AND THIS IS CRAZY! BUT HERE’S MY NUMBER! SO CALL ME MAYBE!”
Again Matt is hit with the adrenaline rush of doing something absolutely stupid and embarrassing with a complete stranger. It’s incredibly freeing – therapeutic, almost – to sing these awful songs and make an utter fool out of himself. They keep singing, Matt unable to keep a goofy grin off of his face, He even finds himself dancing a little by the end of the song. 3C applauds again before shouting “Encore! Encore! Encore!”
Now, Matt supposes, it’s his turn to initiate the duet. He prides himself on having pretty excellent taste in music, but he follows 3C’s lead and picks a ridiculous scream-your-heart-out-with-a-stranger-in-the-shower type song. He takes a deep breath before beginning with –
“SOMEBODY ONCE TOLD ME THE WORLD WAS GONNA ROLL ME!”
3C laughs and whoops before joining.
“I AIN’T THE SHARPEST TOOL IN THE SHED!”
xXx
Over the next few months Matt and 3C share several more duets, the more notable including “Teenage Dream,” “Don’t Stop Believin’,” “Bohemian Rhapsody,” and (Matt’s personal favorite) a flawless rendition of Sir Mix A Lot’s “Baby Got Back.” Shower duets become the highlight of Matt’s week, but despite how much fun he has with 3C, he doesn’t feel compelled to meet him. In fact, he is pretty adamant about not meeting face to face, ever, even though it would only require him to take about ten steps down the hall. It’s partially the anonymity that Matt likes, that he can act like a complete idiot with this guy without ever having to reveal himself. A good deal of it, however, is that fact that this is the first time he’s been able to interact with someone since the accident without being The Blind Guy. He understands why people treat him as fragile or damaged – really, he does – but that doesn’t mean he likes it. With his shower duet partner, however, he can just be a regular guy and isn’t forced to deal with the odd mix of pity and discomfort with which people typically regard him. Fortunately, 3C has not come knocking at his door, so Matt assumes that they have a mutual agreement to limit their interaction to off-key singing.
This agreement works extremely well until one late October evening. Matt steps in the shower and starts wetting his hair when the water pressure drops. He waits, anticipating, before he hears –
“I STAY OUT TOO LATE! GOT NOTHING IN MY BRAIN! THAT’S WHAT PEOPLE SAY MMHMMM! THAT’S WHAT PEOPLE SAY MMHMMM!”
As usual, Matt has to laugh at 3C’s choice of music. He’s been listening to the radio a lot more lately – mostly to prepare for these duets – so he’s pretty confident he knows all the words to this song. And hey, 1989 is a great album, no shame in jamming to it.
Matt and 3C sing, acoustics in the bathroom magnifying the sound. For that moment, Matt’s world is narrowed to the water and the singing and the man on the other side of the wall; he can block out the rest of the noise of the city.
Matt even starts dancing at the second verse, a little twisting motion. He’s not a good dancer, never really knows what to do with his limbs, but no one can see him and he lets loose, head bobbing to the beat. It’s fun and goofy and perfect until –
CRASH!
Matt jolts at the spectacularly loud sound of something very heavy hitting a very hard bathtub. It’s not just the crash of dropping a shampoo bottle – Matt’s pretty sure 3C slipped and fell.
“Hey?’ Matt calls out. “You okay over there?”
There’s no response.
“Hey man, are you okay?”
Nothing.
Matt strains to listen through the wall for the man’s heartbeat, managing to detect a slow thump. It’s the heartbeat of someone unconscious. Matt hesitates only a moment before shutting off the water and leaping out of the shower. He rubs a towel quickly over his hair and down his body, throws on a pair of sweatpants, grabs his cane, and races out the door. Despite his reservations about meeting face to face, he’s not just going to let 3C lie on the shower floor knocked out.
Matt raps on the door of the apartment out of courtesy, but doesn’t expect a response. He tries at the handle, and it’s thankfully unlocked; Matt didn’t want to have to kick this guy’s door down. He slips inside, met with the pungent smell of a day old pizza lying half eaten in the kitchen and a bit of Febreeze lingering in the air.
The sound of water running is coming from the back of the apartment, and Matt follows it into the bathroom. It’s humid and extremely warm – this guy obviously likes really hot showers – and he’s aware of a man lying supine in the bathtub, the smell of copper indicating that he’s bleeding.
Matt turns off the water and throws a towel over the man’s hips in an attempt to preserve his dignity before trying to wake him up.
“Hey buddy,” Matt says, shaking his shoulder gently. “C’mon, wake up.”
The man’s heartbeat picks up; he’s coming to. Matt takes a step back, allowing him some room to breathe.
“Wha’?” The man asks groggily. His heartbeat’s almost normal.
“Wait what the hell?” he demands, sounding somewhat scandalized. Definitely conscious now.
“Yeah, hey, sorry to barge in on you but, um, I think you fell. You hit your head and knocked yourself out so I had to come over and check on you.”
“Woah, okay, first of all – thanks, I appreciate the good Samaritan act and all that but… who are you? How did you know I was in here?”
“Well, I’m Matt,” Matt offers. “I’m… um… the guy you’ve been singing with the past few months. I heard a crash and I asked if you were okay and you weren’t responding so I came over to check on you.”
“You’re the guy I’ve been singing these stupid songs with?” the man asks, shock evident in his voice. “Oh my god!”
This is exactly why Matt didn’t want to meet this guy, this whole “oh my god blind people exist in real life and you’re one of them and I don’t know how to treat you now” thing. He tries to come up with a response but the man keeps talking.
“But, like, you’re really, really hot!”
“What?” Matt asks, because that was not the response he was expecting.
“I mean with the abs and the face and the big, dark eyes. Seriously dude – wow! If I had known I would have tried to impress you with a better music selection.”
“You clearly hit your head pretty hard,” Matt says, half flattered, half uncomfortable, and fully aware that he didn‘t take the time to put on a shirt before coming over. “How’d you even manage to fall over?”
“I was dancing.”
“Dancing?”
“Yeah!” the man explains. “I was trying to do a pirouette! I took ballet as a kid and I was really good at all those spinny moves and I just got so into the song that I wanted to try one.”
Matt throws his head back and laughs because this guy is living up to all his expectations; he’s funny and wacky and a little bit awkward in a very endearing way.
“Why don’t I call you a cab so you can get down to the urgent care?” Matt offers. “You’re probably going to want to get checked out for a concussion.”
“No, it’s cool, I don’t want to spend money a cab.”
“Well I don’t think you should be driving or walking after hitting your head like that and I can’t exactly drive you because –
“Of the whole inability-to-see thing, yeah,” the man interrupts. “But I’ve got a friend, Marci, who I can call to take me down there.”
“Okay, cool. Can I just wait around with you until she gets here to make sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, of course,” the man says, getting up from the bathtub and wrapping the towel around his waist. “I’m Foggy, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you,” Matt says. “In person, anyway.”
“I’ve just got one question, Matt. If you don’t mind.”
Matt braces himself for Foggy to ask the usual “how long have you been blind?” question that Matt dreads.
“Yeah, go ahead.”
“How did you manage to do all of ‘Baby Got Back’ without messing up a single word?”