Agoraphobia

Chapter 4

Within an hour of Brian leaving, I’m kind of a basket case- it’s too quiet in my apartment, even with the TV on. I keep hearing weird noises outside and imagine it’s some crazed lunatic hellbent on breaking in and killing me. Then I hear noises in the hall and think the same thing. Within 3 hours, I’m a mess. Without Georgia, it's just too weird. And I feel like I actually *need* Brian- so calm, cool, collected, confident… safe and beautiful. Those words keep coming up when I think of him, which as of about 5 plus hours ago, is fucking constantly, dammit.

I rub my arms like I'm cold even though I'm not- actually, I'm sweating- and am pacing a hole in the crap on my floor. The weird noises I keep hearing have me now so jumpy and scared my teeth are literally chattering.

I start feeling like I may have an all-out panic attack as I whimper and my teeth clatter and I hug myself in fear. I go to the phone and pick it up about 20 times and then chicken out each time trying to take deep breaths to calm myself instead of ringing Brian. After all, he’ll believe I’m stalking him or something. Finally, I *really* chicken out and actually dial. What the hell am I doing? Calling a man I practically just met because I’m scared shitless- scared shitless of what he'll think is nothing? What *is* nothing- probably? Calling a stranger to whom, yes, I’m unbelievably attracted but really don't fucking know? A newcomer to town with whom I for some fucking reason feel safe? Some guy I don't know from Charles Mansen who has my DOG? I've gone insane!

I'm about to hang up, march over there and get my dog -(ha ha ha- riiiight, my mind thinks; 'march over there' my ass! But I block out that voice in my head for a moment).

Then, I'll march back home with Georgia and latch every lock on my door and put a chest of drawers in front of it –(ha ha ha- riiiight, my mind thinks again, also reminding me that I have a sliding door. What good's a chest of drawers in front of it going to do? And again, like I'll march *anywhere* outside of this apartment- my ASS.).

All these conflicting thoughts are racing through my head and I feel the beginnings of a panic attack- my chest constricts and my peripheral vision closes in. Shit! I'm going to pass out! But suddenly Brian answers, barking, “Hello!? Do you know what fucking hour it is?”

His voice cuts through the haze of my impending attack and I freeze- I hadn’t even really looked at the clock.

"Look, whoever this is: NOT funny! And if you call here again, I've got caller ID and I have means to track you down!"

Somehow, I find my voice even though I'm quaking. “I- I’m sorry, Brian- I didn’t look at the clock. G… good night.” I’m practically whispering- fuck me, I’ve already pissed the man off! 'Well, it’s been nice knowin’ ya, Brian,' I think to myself. Hm, at least I've got some sort of really lame sense of humor in my brain's crazed inner dialogue. “S- ss- sorry,” I repeat and hang up quickly. Shit, I feel all-out tears pouring down my cheeks now- I haven’t cried this much in *years*- but in the last 6-7 hours, I guess I’ve been making up for lost time. I hate it. My emotions go all over the place when anything out of the ordinary happens in my puny life and this is WAY out of the ordinary.

There’s a sudden knock on my door which makes me jump.

“Who is it?” I ask tentatively with a whimper, half scared that it’s the axe murderer I keep imagining is going to break in. Yeah, sure! Axe murderers knock. Fuck, my brain is in a fog.

“Brian!— Who else would it be?“ he asks a little impatiently.

I slide open the door after wiping my cheeks, although I know he won’t be fooled to think I haven’t been crying. I step aside so he can come in. All he has on is a pair of sweat pants cut off above the knees into shorts. They’re old and frayed, obviously his pajamas or alone-in-the-apartment pants; and they’re unbelievably sexy. He looks tousled like he was sleeping. "I'm so s…s-orry for calling and at th… this hour, Brian. I really am." I HATE stuttering.

“Sunshine, what’s wrong?” he asks hoarsely, his voice gravelly from sleep.

“I'm so sorry I woke you!" I apologize again.

“Justin, it's alright- sorry's bullshit. I just get grumpy when I'm wakened. But I just fell asleep in front of the TV, that's all. Nothing to get your panties in a twist over. "My bark is worse than my bite, okay? But, Justin, please, tell me what the *fuck* is going on? You sounded and sound terrified! Are things going bump in the night over here?" He pauses and snickers slightly. "It's probably rats breeding in your dirty underwear.” He doesn’t sound mad like he did on the phone. At all.

I smile now, but I don't comment on his rat theory. “I’m a little scared. It’s just too qui- quiet except for all these weird noi- noises. I’m not used to being without Geor-gia. And I kinda…" my voice trails off before I mention missing him. My words hiccup from crying so fucking hard a few moments ago. "What a baby, I know," I add quickly.

“Justin, fuck all. You’re scared, not a baby. It’s weird to suddenly be alone without your companion. I had a dog growing up, and when I’d hear strange noises, I’d believe she'd protect me. It was a lot less scary that way.”

I approach him, unable to keep from licking my lips at his toned, naked, lightly bronzed torso. Then I look into his eyes, which are sleepy but alert and questioning, unsure of what I’m doing.

*I* don’t even know what I’m doing.

I go to him and hug him and rest my head against his shoulder. His scent is intoxicating and it’s all I can do to keep myself from tasting his skin. Then I just can’t stop myself and I begin kissing his firm chest, savoring every nip and kiss. He tastes like heaven.

“Justin?” He pauses; I feel his breathing increase under my lips, presumably as he responds to my ministrations. But then, “Justin, no. This isn’t right. We’re neighbors- you’re not a trick. We've talked about this. You're hotter than hell, and I can't believe I'm putting a stop to this, but we shouldn’t… do…do this.”

I note his slight stutter and smile slightly. With all my strength, I make myself pull back. “I… I’m sorry. It’s just, earlier you kissed me and…”

He's suddenly in greater command of himself. “Justin, I probably shouldn’t have done that. I didn't like that you were feeling so unhappy; besides, Sunshine, it wasn’t exactly a carnal kiss.”

'It was to me,' I think to myself. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Jus, sorry’s bullshit, remember? STOP apologizing. I’m not mad at all nor do I like you any less- and again, it’s not that I don’t find you attractive, Sunshine. I just… I don’t know. I'm strictly a one-night-stand type of fag and you’re someone I’ll be seeing around regularly. Well, I mean, if I run your dog every day," he adds quickly.

I nod slowly, sadly.

“Listen," he says finally. "Let’s get Georgia over here. I’ve got this sort of rapport with animals that’s kind of weird. I can probably coax her over from my apartment if I really concentrate on it. She’ll keep you good company. Then I can pick her up for her run tomorrow morning, okay?”

I nod but feel like curling up into a ball and dying. I pull farther back and go sit on the couch. I feel incredibly depressed. My moods can turn on a dime when I'm engrossed in a movie- and this is *real life* -- I feel totally all over the place. I hate this. I hate it!

“Justin, what’s going on?” he asks, noting my sudden withdrawal and mood change. He doesn’t sound exasperated, but I think I’m kind of starting to get on his nerves. I wouldn't blame him for that- *I'm* getting on my nerves. He comes over and sits next to me on the couch, grimacing a little as he removes a few old greasy paper plates and puts them on the table in front of us. “Yuck. Justin, hire a cleaning service or throw all this shit out and make a bonfire in your yard,” he mutters.

I snort. “I could just torch this apartment and be done with it all.” Did I just say that aloud?

He looks at me oddly. “What did you just say?”

Shit. “Nothing.” SHIT!

“Justin…” he moves closer to me on the couch and puts an arm around me; and suddenly I find I’m holding him and bawling. Fucking AGAIN. Maybe I’m just allergic to this man and that's why I'm so weepy around him. “Shhhhh… Sunshine… are you… what are you saying? Are you…?”

Ready to end it all? Ready to end this ‘blissful existence’ I lead? Ready to off myself now that my Georgia has a buddy she loves who will take good care of her? A buddy who’s a man I'm feeling very strongly for but who doesn't feel the same way about me? I stay silent except for my stupid sobbing. I'm crying all over his georgeous naked shoulder and I try to keep from getting him all wet and gross.

“Justin, I’m going to go and get Georgia right now. Look, I should have known- routine is often very important for people in your situation, and Georgia's part of your routine; it's fucking with you without her here—so, I'm gonna go get her and then I'm staying till I know you're okay.”

I should have known- and from my experience before I even holed up in this apartment, I *do* and *did* know not to say shit like that, about offing myself. He probably thinks I'm a pyro or something now too. Still, I'm simply fed up with myself and how weak I am, how pathetic I must seem to Brian. It's just, for some fucked up reason, I still tend to blurt shit out to this man without censoring myself. “No, Brian. I’m just being stupid. Don't bother Georgia. Go on home, really- I say stupid things around you for some reason-" saying stupid things just like that, Justin? Fuck! And yet, I go on!–"Please don't worry! Oh- wait here.” I get up, tearing myself from his embrace and I go to the kitchen to get a can of food for Georgia's breakfast.

I need to change the mood here and fast. He's seeing too many of my demons and it's scaring both of us. “Give Georgia just a half a can in the morning- probably about an hour before your run,” I say, trying to control my fucking tears. “I forgot to give her food to you earlier. Again, I’m sorry about waking you up and being so childish.”

“Justin, I’ll be right back- hang on a sec,” Brian says, ignoring me, his voice still full of concern.

“Brian! Don’t make Georgia come back here!” Fuck fuck fuck. “She doesn’t want to!” Shit, he thinks I'm a complete freak- I can't even spend the night alone without my dog, without a brand new neighbor I'm becoming oddly quite fond of; without being scared out of my wits by 'things that go bump in the night'. Shit. I hate this.

He’s left the apartment already without even taking the can I’m holding out to him. Confused, I go to the sink and splash my face with cold water and am pulling off a paper towel from the roll when he’s back.

“Okay," he says, brushing off his hands.

“What’d you do?” I ask, my voice still thick from crying. He didn’t bring Georgia over or anything else that I can tell.

“Nothing much,” he answers, sitting on the couch. It's quite obvious he hates this apartment- it’s filthy: clutter and shit everywhere- but still: he’s here. I smile inwardly, my mood lifting a bit. He carefully removes one leftover dirty sock from the couch, then he examines under the cushions and groans. Dog biscuits that Georgia didn’t feel like eating but wanted to ‘bury’ for later are lodged under the cushions and in the frame; same with pizza crusts I’d given her that she had no interest in and buried as well- among other things like some rawhide bones and a couple of tennis balls- I stare and am kind of amazed. I never look under the cushions.

“Fuck me! I never knew Georgia was such a little stasher!” I exclaim. “I never look under the cushions!”

He eyes me. “Well, either you *really* never look- or you’re an unsanitary *slob*. Oh- wait- dingdingding- I win on both counts,” he smiles. “It’s alright, Sunshine. There’s nothing like a dead animal carcass or anything here- and even if there was, it would appear that all of this shit is petrified anyway. We won’t get sick.” He pushes the cushions back down. “We’ll just pretend I didn’t look, shall we? Or, at least I will. After all, you *live* with this.” He holds his nose and makes a face.

Not expecting something so goofy like that from him, I smile. In fact, I giggle. Fuck. What is it about this guy that puts my emotions into a rapid spin cycle?

But, whatever it is, I’m no longer crying as he finally sits down. “You want something to drink? Beer? Wine? Water?” I ask.

“Wine would be good—wait- you didn’t stamp the grapes with your own filthy feet, did you?” He grins.

I roll my red, swollen eyes. “My feet aren’t filthy and neither am I! I’m just not a good… housekeeper… or something. And it’s wine from a box, by the way.”

Brian pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. “Oh, fuckin’ hell,” he mutters. “Fine. I’ll get bloated from all the sulfites but I’ll suffer through it for an evening. Or more like an extremely early morning by now.”

“All I have are these mason jars for glasses, is that alright?” I waggle two mason jars to show him.

Brian looks at me incredulously. Just then there’s a scratching at the door that makes me jump. I almost drop the jars.

“What the fuck?” I gasp.

Brian’s grinning. “Get the door, Sunshine.”

Hesitantly, I go to the door and look through the peephole. No one’s there.

“Just open the damned door.”

I open it, and there’s Georgia, wagging her tail. She looks up at me with a smile (Georgia does smile- it’s disarmingly endearing). She trots past me and jumps up onto the couch and puts her head on Brian’s lap.

“What the fuck?” I exclaim. I look over at Brian’s apartment through my still-open door; and *his* door’s open. That’s what he went to do a moment ago. I look at this whole thing with a mixture of surprise, awe and a little bit of horror. “Who are you, Dr. Doolittle, Brian?”

He’s had Georgia wrapped around his little finger ever since he came into our lives- which was just today, mind you- well, yesterday now. And she’s followed him everywhere, and even refused to come home from his apartment earlier- even with Brian trying to drag her.

Basically, I’m freaking out and he’s worried I’m suicidal- so he leaves a few minutes and then two minutes later, she’s scratching at my door!

He winks at me. “Nah. As I said earlier, I just have a kind of rapport with animals, that’s all. I can kind of talk to them. I just have to concentrate on it sometimes- sometimes not. This afternoon when she refused to leave my apartment, she was just being stubborn- it bothered me, but I've found she knew perfectly well what she was doing. When I finally kind of 'spoke' to her, it turns out she *was* trying to help you. Oh, by the way, sorry I accused you of abusing her. She eventually 'told' me that she was trying to get you out of your apartment.”

“This is unreal,” I whisper.

“I used to think it was weird. It is, I guess. But now I just figure, ‘what the fuck?’ and go with it. Most animals are *much* more interesting than people.”

“Are you serious about this? You really talk to animals?”

“Sometimes, yeah; Georgia has a lot of interesting tales to tell- so to speak,” he chuckles.

“Fuck! You *are* like a Dr. Doolittle!” I exclaim.

“No. I don’t have any pets. But actually, I don’t know much about Dr. Doo-Whatsis… I haven’t read the book or seen the movies.”

“I haven’t either- I’ve only seen the movie previews… Brian, that’s kind of magical, you know. In fact, it is magical! This is getting weird. Time for me to wake up.” I concentrate on waking up, scrunching my eyes closed. “Wakeupwakeupwakeup…” I chant. I suddenly feel arms around me.

"Justin…" I open my eyes. I relish that Brian's holding me. "Justin, now you're making *me* feel like a freak."

"Oh, fuck- I'm sorry, Brian. You aren't a freak- you're just kind of… you're amazing."

"Not really. I am actually *more* of a freak than amazing." He pauses to yawn. "But I need sleep, Sunshine. Are you okay now that Georgia's back? No drastic bonfires planned?"

Ha. Not funny. I bite my lip. "Yeah. I'm okay. No bonfires." I don't want Brian to go, fuck it!

"Good. Then I'll be by to get Georgia in the morning for our run. You up around 7?"

Fuck, I'll *still* be up at 7. "Sure."

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