Page 46 of Innocence

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“Where are they? Where are they? I need that professor’s information!”

“Did you say something?” asked the woman in the administration office.

“Oh, no, ma’am. I was looking for Lenny and Zane. They’re friends of mine.” The woman nodded, giving an odd look.

“I’m sorry. They don’t work here any longer. In fact, I don’t think they attend school here at UNO any longer.”

Without a word, the individual turned and left the building. The need was so great, so tempting, they were almost willing to do it themselves.

Traipsing across campus, pushing fellow students aside, their own fears were creeping up. Breathing was becoming difficult, vision was blurred, and the blood was pumping at an alarming rate.

“Get home. Get home. Get home. Get home.”

“Did you say something?” asked a male student. “Are you okay?”

“Go away!”

“Fuck. I was just trying to help.”

“Home. Home.”

Repeated over and over again, it was like a song that kept their feet on the ground. Opening the door to the apartment, the stark furnishings were a reminder of the many phobias plaguing the mind.

Fear of intimacy. Fear of wood. Fear of television. Fear of music. Fear of red meat. Fear of milk products. Fear of telephones.

There seemed to be nothing they were not afraid of. Nothing except anonymity.

CHAPTER THIRTY

“Good morning, everyone,” said Mary. “Today, we’re going to be doing something a little different. Asst. Professor Anders and I have come up with an interesting way to try and help everyone overcome their phobias and fears. First, we’d like to chart them all out. Professor Anders.”

“As you can see on the very long chart here, we have written every possible phobia or fear we are aware of clinically. There may be one that we do not know of. If you have that phobia or fear, please just write it in. If it is something you do have a fear or phobia of, just place your initials. You can see other classes have done the same.”

“What is this?” asked a young woman in the front row.

“I am sorry, what is your name again?” he asked.

“Laura.”

“Laura, we simply wish to chart everyone’s fears and phobias. We are going to be taking a little trip next week, and this will help us.”

“How will it help us?” asked Beatrice. “I mean, I fear being stared at. If I get up and write on that, everyone will stare.”

“Okay,” nodded Noah. “Everyone, turn your backs to Beatrice.”

They all obediently turned, and she had a small grin at the corner of her mouth. She quickly went up and wrote down her phobias, then ran back to her seat.

“Thank you for that,” she said to Noah.

“You are welcome. Okay. Everyone else now.”

They repeated the act over and over in each class session. When they were done, it was overwhelming to look at.

“How does this happen?” asked Angel. “I mean, everybody fears something. Snakes, spiders, thunderstorms. But some of these people have a phobia of the oddest shit I’ve ever seen. Loose hairs, their teeth falling out, the color orange. Orange? Seriously?”

“It’s not my place to understand it,” said Mary. “I just want to try and find this person. Whoever it is, they will most likely observe all the others. Let’s get this rolled up and take it back with us. We can review it as a team back home.”

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