Agoraphobia

Chapter 2

I wake up maybe an hour later, judging by the light outside the window; my head is resting on a pile of dirty laundry on the sofa. The bottle of vodka is half empty and the TV is now showing some ‘Into the West’ show- I hate those kinds of shows but I ignore it for the moment. I sit up and look for Georgia by the light of the flickering TV. Fuck! She’s lying by the front door, where I’d noticed she’d been when I came out of the bedroom after Brian left. She hasn’t moved. Her position is like she’s expecting him to come in through that door any minute.

She really likes that guy.

“Georgia?” She looks at me and thumps her tail. “Hungry, girl?” I get up, wincing at the hangover that’s already taking root in my brain; I go into the kitchen and turn on the dimmer lights on low. I get out a can of food for her and a bottle of water for me. She wanders over, her tail wagging. “So, you really like Brian, don’t you, girl?”

Her tail seems to wag harder, although I know that’s my imagination.

“Yeah. Me too. He really got to me. But I can’t figure him out. He’s so bluntly honest. Too bluntly honest. He doesn’t seem to follow normal social etiquette- I mean, who would ask me ‘You don’t ‘get out much - or you don’t feel safe to leave this apartment?’ I’m no conversationalist, but when someone says something about not leaving the apartment- several times- I’d leave it alone and not push it. He’s just too direct for me. I appreciate honesty, but I have too many demons I have no interest in sharing, y’know?” I tell her as I shake the congealed dog food into the bowl, grimacing. She loves this shit though. Maybe it actually tastes good, but ugh. As I bend down to put the bowl on the floor, I notice there’s a paper at the front door.

As Georgia scarfs down her meal, I go over and pick it up. It’s the menu, with a post-it on it that simply says, ‘Thanks. –Brian.’

I stand there and look at it. It’s nothing, you know? Just a note saying nothing. But I can’t help but think I somehow lost an opportunity this afternoon. I mean, the only ‘real’ person I’ve talked to in years: and I basically drove him off. The only person I can imagine talking to without having a panic attack.

…A man so beautiful he turned me into a babbling idiot. An apparently very honest man, an intelligent man… ah fuck. A man who wanted simply to have dinner with me. I finger the note, then toss it all on the counter. It scatters the neat pile Brian made not too long ago of the other menus. I just look at the fanned out mess of menus and leave them. I *am* a slob.

I go into the bedroom, kicking clutter and dirty clothes out of my path on my way. And I get dressed. I mean, like, in jeans and a tee shirt- not my usual sweats. I haven’t worn these jeans for years- they’re a little tight now- such is the sedentary lifestyle. Oh well. I steel myself and look at the front door from my bedroom entranceway.

I walk slowly to the front door, noting the time is about 7:00. I like winter- it gets dark early. Summer always makes me feel like a shit for staying in, late evening light shining through the windows and the sounds of families having barbeques and playing Frisbee outside make my stomach hurt. They have a life. I have a crummy apartment. 900 sq. feet of barely an existence. In winter at this hour, the only sounds from outside are from traffic and an occasional faraway train whistle.

I slide open my front door and look over the 10 yards of hallway to my new neighbor’s door. There’s a light shining under the crack; a nice warm light. I notice Georgia is right next to me, looking at me strangely. Like she’s thinking, ‘What are you doing?’ Then she bolts out into the hall unexpectedly.

“Georgia!” I yell. “Come back here!” Shit shit shit! “Georgia!” I try to step out to chase her but that’s laughable- I immediately feel dizzy and step back into my apartment to prevent a panic attack. She heads for the entrance to the building, where she scratches the door to get out. “No, Georgia! Come here, girl!” Fuck.

Just then, Brian’s door slides open loudly like he’s angry. And he is. “What the fuck is all the racket out here!?” he yells. Then he looks from me, frozen at my front door, to my dog, scratching at the building entrance to get out. “Why don’t you just go fucking get your dog instead of standing there and yelling loud enough to wake the dead?” he bitches. As soon as Georgia hears Brian, she goes over to him and slips past him into his apartment. Strange.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Brian.”

He sighs. “It’s okay. Why don’t you come over and get her? I’m waiting for a call from a client.”

I start to get mad. Didn’t he hear a word I said this afternoon? “I *told* you- I *can’t*!”

He looks at me, perplexed a moment. “So it *is* that you don’t feel safe- not just to go outside, but to leave your apartment entirely- even a few steps- isn’t it?” he asks – not in a mean or teasing way- in fact, his tone is of slight concern.

He approaches me and stands right in front of me. “Come here.”

“No.”

He comes over and stands next to me, and puts an arm around me. I shrug him off. “NO.”

I look at him and then the hallway. It suddenly seems to expand into the size of a football field, the walls undulating and the ground quivers like Jell-O. I start to feel faint. Panic…

“Hey, hey- calm down. Never mind. I’m sorry- shit. This was stupid of me. Look, I’ll go get Georgia, okay? You just stay here in your apartment.”

I swallow and nod stepping a few paces back. He goes; I try to catch my breath.

He gets to his door from inside his apartment with Georgia by the collar but when he tries to get her into the hall, she puts on the brakes and he has to drag her. When she chokes he blanches and releases her and she runs back into his apartment. “Fuck, do you abuse her or something?”

“Fuck no! Fuck you, never!”

“Then maybe she’s trying to help you…”

What the fuck? “What the hell does that mean?”

“Maybe she wants you to come get her,” he says simply, smiling.

Huh?

He closes his door and comes over to me, takes me by my hand and leads me to my sofa. We sit and he looks at me. “You’re agoraphobic,” he states.

Duh. Yeah. “I know. I thought that was obvious,” I mutter.

“Well, it was. It is. But I didn’t want to jump to conclusions. I mean, I thought you might have been trying to avoid going to dinner with me without directly telling me that you just didn’t want to go to dinner with *me*, earlier.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Justin, my mother was agoraphobic. I saw the telltale signs in you but you can’t always make that assumption.” Surprisingly, he puts a soft hand on my cheek. I gasp but I don’t pull away. “I typically believe that sorry is bullshit- but I guess I’ve been bullshitting you a lot today, so why stop now?… I’m sorry I pushed. I didn’t know the degree of your agoraphobia. I mean, my Mom never left the property into the ‘real world’, but she’d garden and play with us in the yard. “How long have you been here?” he asks gently. “If that’s too personal- forget I asked.”

I look in his eyes to see if he’s ready to tease me or put me down as a weak little idiot. Or worse, to see if he’s pitying me. I see no signs of any of that- just understanding and concern. Fuck me if his eyes aren’t beautiful- every time I look into them, I’m amazed. I can’t look away. It’s like he’s a vampire or something. “Since… since 1998,” I whisper hoarsely.

I get ready for him to whistle, like ‘fuck, that’s a ridiculously long time- get help’. But he just nods. “My Mom didn’t leave the house for 20 years. She was miserable- it was painful for her to feel so helplessly trapped yet so terribly afraid to go outside.” He removes his hand from my cheek. I wish he didn’t. “Of all the human conditions, of all the world conditions- agoraphobia is the one I’m sensitive to.” Then he chuckles. “All the other shit out there, I could care less about, for the most part.”

I look at him oddly. “What?”

He shakes his head. “Never mind. But Georgia seems to be very aware of what’s going on with you and I think she’s trying her own brand of ‘doggie psychology’ to help you.”

I laugh at his lame joke. I haven’t laughed since… fuck, I don’t know when I last actually laughed. He smiles.

“Well, Sunshine, what shall we do? I don’t want to choke your dog dragging her over here, and at the moment, you can’t come to my apartment to fetch her. Dilemma, huh?”

“’Sunshine’? What’s that for?” I ask, more intrigued by that than Georgia at the moment- more intrigued by Brian. Georgia’s just fine.

He shrugs. “I dunno. When you just laughed, your face lit up. It fits, that’s all.” He suddenly looks a little embarrassed.

Wow. I don’t know what to say, except that it seems out of character for him to give someone a nickname like that and I’m genuinely touched. “Thanks.” I say quietly.

“So, about your dog?” he asks, quickly changing the subject back to the matter at hand.

“I don’t know.” Being this close to him is making me nervous and I put my hands over my lap, hoping to cover my hard-on.

“Want me to keep her overnight, run with her tomorrow morning and then leave her in your yard? My yard has a gate to the outside by the side- does yours?”

“I don’t know- I’ve never been out to check.”

“Oh- yeah. Here, let me go out and see. Do you have an outside light in your yard? Or do you have a flashlight?”

Fuck, I envy the ease at which he can ‘just go out and see’-- to simply go into the night without concern, dread- absolute *terror*. “There’s a light,” I say simply. I’m reluctant to leave Brian’s closeness, but I get up and go flip on the light.

“Thanks.” He goes to yank on the sliding door. “It’s locked?”

Hell, yeah, it’s locked! What, are you nuts? “Yeah.” I go over to a drawer and get a key for the deadbolt.

“A deadbolt? My door doesn’t have that.”

“I put it in. You probably don’t lock your door at all, huh?”

“Well, I’ve only been in town a couple days- but not so far. I hadn’t thought about it.”

“The locks that they originally installed on the doors here are pretty flimsy; that’s why I put this one in.” Paranoid. Yes, I’m paranoid.

“Oh.” He doesn’t ask any other questions.

I open the door for him and he strides out easily and looks around. He disappears around the side and I’m momentarily terrified, wanting him back in with me and with the deadbolt locked again. Brian makes me feel safe. I met him only about two hours ago, but still, he makes me feel safe. “Found it!” he calls from somewhere around the darkened corner. “I’ll unlatch it so I can get Georgia in tomorrow morning!”

Shit. I’ll be up all fucking night now, waiting for someone to break in through my unlatched gate. He comes around the corner, brushing off his hands. As soon as he’s in the door I slam it shut and lock it. He jumps at the slam. “Fuck!” he yells. “What’s the hurry, Sunshine?”

I eye him. “I… well. I um…” Fuck me.

He looks at me and simply nods. “So, I guess if I don’t see you, you’ll see Georgia tomorrow, waiting for you in your yard. Does she sleep on the bed or the sofa? I mean, I guess I don’t mind if she sleeps on the bed with me…” Brian looks a little ill at the thought but then seems to shrug it off. “But my sofa is kinda expensive.”

I look at him sheepishly. “Well. She’s… well, look around.” I gesture around at my cluttered, dirty, disgusting apartment. “She’s allowed to go anywhere, I’m afraid. I have nothing of value. Maybe just… just close your bed… bedroom door with her with… with you, so she won’t get on your sofa. Um… and she doesn’t get much exercise; watch her while you’re running. She’s not… not young and isn’t used to much running- just romping around the yard.” Fucking *stammer* much, Justin!?

He smiles. “I’ll run slow and we won’t go far. And I’ll keep a close eye on her while we’re out- if she starts to look at all fatigued, we’ll stop. I’ll bring water, too. Do you have a leash for her?”

Shit. Somewhere in this mess… “Somewhere. I.. I don’t have cause to use one… I’m not sure where it is…”

He smiles. “I think I know where I have one.”

I kind of wonder if the leash he has was meant for dogs and I inadvertently giggle.

“What the fuck?”

“Nothing… noth…nothing.”

He eyes me. “You were wondering if the leash I have is meant for dogs or tricks, weren’t you? You’ve already figured I’m a pervert, eh?”

I smile, a little amazed he figured that I was wondering that. I mean, there’s been no overt behavior on his part around me at all (unfortunately) that would lead me to think he’s promiscuous. I guess it’s just because he has this aura of raw masculinity, sexuality and charisma. I’ve had a hard-on since I first saw him through the peephole two hours ago. “Not a perv…pervert. Just… adventurous.” Again, I am *so* sick of stuttering like a moron in front of Brian! I mean, I don’t stutter! I really don’t! At least not when I’m talking to myself or Georgia.

“’Adventurous’? Nice euphemism, Sunshine,” he says, leering. “Well, I gotta go, neighbor. See ya.”

Just like that. 'See ya,' He says. Shit.

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