Phobia (4 page)

~ 8 ~

I emailed Colin privately to ask for help with my ‘homework’ assignment. I didn’t really need help. I was making more progress than he probably expected and best of all, I was learning something valuable in the process. I just wanted an excuse to talk to him; to have him notice me.

To my delight, he emailed me back almost immediately, asking if I wanted to chat live via Skype. I amazed myself by answering in the affirmative, then proceeded to have a panic attack.

What had I done? Skype was even worse than the phone! Not only was I going to be put on the spot by talking live, I would have to let him see me on camera! The webcam was even more invasive than the cursed phone that I went to such great lengths to avoid.

I couldn’t deny my real motive for agreeing to Skype chat. I was dying to see what he looked like, even if it meant going on camera myself. I rushed to apply some makeup and fix my hair. I thought I looked pretty, but wasn’t sure. I hoped he would like me.

Normally, the thought of someone invading my personal space filled me with dread, but Colin made me feel at ease. I wouldn’t mind a little invasion from a guy like him.
Dirty mind!
I scolded myself. Colin’s interest in me was purely professional. His website and group activities were nothing more than research to him, and practice for his future career as a shrink.

Heart thumping in my throat, I loaded Skype and waited to connect to Colin.

“Dana? Can you hear me?” he asked.

“I can hear you just fine, Colin. Can you hear me?”

Silence.

“Colin?”

“Dana? I know you can hear me, so I’m just going to talk, okay?”

To my disappointment, the program wasn’t working properly. He couldn’t seem to hear me, but apparently he could see me, because he was talking to me. I could hear him, but couldn’t see him. The screen where his face should have appeared was black. Still, it was great to communicate with him, even with the annoying limitations.

He told me about himself and said he wished he knew all about me. I was still feeling painfully shy, so I didn’t say much. I was content just to listen to him and try to look pretty for the camera. He didn’t seem to mind talking.

He was a student, which I already knew, and his father was a respected psychiatrist. I snickered, thinking how ironic it would be if his father turned out to be Doctor Know-it-All, whose appointment I had refused. No way. Couldn’t be. Colin was too smart to have such a jackass for a father.

He told me that he had wanted to be a veterinarian when he was growing up because he loved animals. He had a dog named Charlie, and he wished I could meet him. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I was afraid of dogs. I had been chased by one as a child, and had never gotten over my fear of them, even the little cute ones.

* * *

After that first conversation, I waited every day for his call. I listened in on group therapy every week, but connected privately with Colin almost every day. He seldom let me down, but some days he had classes and couldn’t get away. I emailed him and told him he could contact me anytime, night or day and I would be there, even if he couldn’t hear me.

Our conversations were about the same each day:

“Hello, beautiful,” Colin would say.

I would giggle nervously, self-conscious about my appearance even though I had painstakingly applied makeup and fussed with my hair prior to letting him see me on camera.

As usual, he couldn’t hear me, so then next thing he would say was, “Dana, can you hear me? I’m here.”

“I know you’re here, Colin. How was your day?” I would reply, even though I knew he couldn’t hear me. I was content to listen as he told me about his day. Most days, he would tell me that he had a lot of homework, and ask if I would mind if he worked on it while he was visiting with me. Of course I never minded. I found his work fascinating. He often read me his essays and research papers in preparation for oral presentations. I loved being his sounding board. It made me feel like he considered me intelligent and valued my input.

The chemistry between us was unmistakable. I was pretty sure he felt the same attraction to me as I did to him but I was too shy to ask. I let him do the talking, while I listened, spellbound.

Our relationship, if you could call it that, had taken a distinctly personal turn, but I told myself not to get my hopes up. Colin was way out of my league and he still hadn’t divulged whether or not he was single. That probably meant he was married. If he was attracted to me, he was likely a cheater, which didn’t surprise me in the least, given my track record for attracting cheating assholes. Still, I was interested enough to pursue the relationship, such as it was. Colin was great fantasy fodder and what was life without a little fantasy?

Our lopsided online flirtation was fun. I felt like Colin was in the same room with me. It was the ideal arrangement; if Colin couldn’t hear me, I couldn’t embarrass myself by saying anything stupid. Colin had a way of making me feel at ease; my usual self-consciousness melted away as soon as I heard his voice. He didn’t demand answers or pressure me to talk on my most hated device – the telephone. I felt natural and relaxed; desirable, even.

I kept reminding myself not to get too close to him. A real relationship with someone like Colin was just a fantasy. No decent man would want to become involved with a cripple. Emotionally, that was exactly what I was: A cripple. It made no difference that I’d found someone who made me feel the exact opposite of crippled.

More than anything, I wanted to be with Colin in person. I wished he wasn’t so far away – at least I
thought
he was far away. Oddly, Colin never told me his location, even though he talked about everything else.

When I was with Colin, my limitations fell away. I was no longer trapped inside my four walls, bound by phobias. I felt free, even if it was just for brief periods of time. I wanted to live that freedom, to leave my walls behind forever.

Freedom meant conquering my fears and leaving the house.

I started taking my antidepressants again. I didn’t know how long I’d been off my meds but I knew from past experience that the medication worked well enough after a few weeks that I would feel able to leave the house for necessities. My one-month supply would be just enough. If I could muster the courage to leave the house on short errands, then maybe I could be brave enough to meet Colin in person.

I continued to work on my phobia list, which had become more detailed, with more sub-headings and more information. It was fascinating research and I was learning a lot about myself in the process.

At Colin’s suggestion, I began another list, which consisted of things I was absolutely NOT afraid of. These were things that were phobias for some people, but that I could face fearlessly.

The list included, but was not limited to:

Horses

Flowers

Cats

Scraping a fork on plate

Nails on chalkboard

Driving (maybe)

Dirt

Frogs

Turtles

Midgets

Balloons

As my list of non-fears grew, I began to see what Colin was trying to accomplish. Once I had a basis for comparison, my phobias looked insignificant. I saw that the things I didn’t fear far outnumbered my fears. I felt empowered, confident. I dared to believe that with Colin’s help, I might be able to reclaim my life. For the first time ever, the future looked bright.

I also decided it would be safe to take a Valium at night. It was time I got a good night’s sleep without any more crazy dreams. I hadn’t touched the pills in a long time, so the Valium took effect quickly. I snuggled into my pillow, feeling the drug’s warmth flowing through my veins.

~*~

~ 9 ~

I was running, but couldn’t see where I was going. Something was chasing me through what looked like a dark forest. I heard the hot breath of my pursuer, wheezing and panting behind me. I imagined ravenous jaws with long, sharp teeth snapping inches from my ankles each time I took a step. Taxed to the limit, my shaking legs threatened to give out but I forced them to keep moving.

Is it a wolf? A dog? Or something supernatural?

Maybe it was a pack of rabid wolves. I wasn’t about to look back for fear of stumbling and becoming a meal for whatever it was. All I knew was that I couldn’t let them catch me or they would surely tear me to shreds.

How did I get here?

I didn’t remember leaving the house, and I certainly wouldn’t have voluntarily gone walking through the woods at night. I didn’t like the dark, especially when I was someplace unfamiliar.

I could hear it panting, and wheezing.

HISS. SUCK.

HISS. SUCK..

Oh no!
I knew that sound.

SLURP. SLURRRP.

Drooling jaws.
I imagined it foaming at the mouth, delirious from rabies.

“Help!” I gasped. “Somebody, please help me!”

Nobody came to my aid. I was alone, except for my pursuer, in an unfamiliar place.

I couldn’t see a path ahead of me, yet somehow I managed to keep running without falling. My lungs burned and my mouth felt dry and parched.

I tripped over something in the dark and fell, down, down, down. I landed gently, on a soft surface that felt very much like my bed.

I woke, heart pounding. I surveyed the familiar surroundings, confirming that I was indeed safe in my bedroom. I pulled the duvet up around my chin and curled up in a ball until my heart rate returned to normal.

The dream reminded me of the time when I was a child, and our neighbor’s dog had frightened me. It was a large German Shepherd that always barked at me when I walked past on the way to and from school. I was terrified of the dog, even though it was securely chained in the yard. One day, the dog wasn’t on its chain. It came to meet me on my way home from school. The dog stood on the sidewalk between me, and the safety of my home. It curled its upper lips in a cruel sneer, baring its long white fangs. At that moment the concept of mortality became crystal-clear to my seven-year-old mind. I understood that I was about to die, and that dead was forever.

I tried to edge around the dog, but it blocked the sidewalk. Each time I moved to one side or the other, it moved with me in a sadistic dance, upper lips twitching, fangs showing. Why hadn’t it bitten me yet?

Finally, I made a break for it. I dashed past the dog and ran toward home as fast as my legs would take me. I didn’t see the crack in the sidewalk. I tripped, and down I went, skinning my hands and knees. I covered my head, trying to protect myself as I felt the dog on top of me.

Strangely, I didn’t feel any pain as the animal mauled me, just wetness on my legs, which I presumed was blood, gushing from all the bites.

I felt someone take my arm and help me up. I looked into the face of Cora Jensen, the dog’s owner.

“Are you okay, honey? I’m so sorry Duffy scared you. He just wants to play.”

Yeah, like he plays with his chew toys
, I thought.

Cora’s son, Josh, had the dog by the collar and it stood obediently by his side, long tongue lolling out the side of its mouth.

“Call an ambulance,” I whimpered. “I’m bleeding to death.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Cora said, “you’re just fine. Just a few scrapes is all. Come to the house and I’ll get you some band-aids,” she said.

“But – the dog!”

“He won’t hurt you. He just wanted to play. I’m sorry if he knocked you over, he didn’t mean any harm.”

“He was snarling at me and showing his teeth!”

Cora laughed. “Oh, no! He wasn’t being mean! He was smiling at you. We taught him to do that. Josh, show her.”

Josh turned to the dog and said, “Smile, Duffy. C’mon, give us a smile!”

The dog curled its upper lip into a sneer again, and the sight of his teeth made me want to wet my pants, I was so frightened.

“Come on, you can pet him. He won’t hurt you, I promise,” Josh said. “I’m holding him so he can’t knock you over.”

“But the blood… my legs are wet,” I said, looking down at my legs in confusion. My knees were scraped, and my sundress was smudged with dirt on the front, but there were no dog bites. I reached down to touch my calf where it felt wet.

“He was licking you when I grabbed him. If you feel wet, it’s just gross dog slobber,” Josh told me.

Humiliated, I declined Mrs. Jensen’s offer of band-aids and went home to tend my wounded knees.

Knowing that Duffy the dog was just playing and not trying to hurt me did nothing to alleviate my fear of him, and all dogs. As I grew older, my fear of dogs became more firmly ingrained in my mind. I felt the fear was rational and justified. Big dogs were dangerous because their powerful jaws could crush bones. The little ones had needle-sharp teeth that reminded me of raccoons and other rabies-carrying vermin.

A bite from anything could result in rabies, and the only cure for rabies was a series of painful injections. My fear of needles fueled my fear of anything that might result in an injection, hence my fear of rabid animals, especially dogs.

~*~