She closed the book, placed it on the table, and, finally, decided to walk out the door. Rising from her position on the sofa, Agnus took a step forward.
“You can do this,” she chanted, voice wavering less with each repetition.
After five steps, Agnus did a harsh 180. She found herself staring, once again, at the book, which was now lying on the coffee table. It looked so innocent, helpful... hypocritical.
The author wasn’t practicing what she preached. As Agnus analyzed the cover, it became increasingly clearer that the woman was probably just as crazy as her. No, not crazy. Agoraphobic, she corrected with a sneer. After all, the author sat indoors for the cover photo.
“Indoors,” Agnus shouted, hands raised, face toward the sky, as if speaking to God himself.
“Who writes a book about ‘Breaking Down the Walls of Agoraphobia’ when they can’t even have the human decency,” she jabbed her finger at the book, “to take the cover photo outside!”
By this time, Agnus had backtracked. She was now a mere two paces from her starting position.
Why did I ever think that this book would fix me? Why do I have to be like this? Why do I even try?
Pools of water formed in Agnus’ eyes, ready to spill over the edge.
No, Agnus thought, wiping her tears away furiously. I don’t want to remember. She shuddered, but it was too late. The memories had already invaded, filling every crevice of open space within her mind.
Agnus was thirteen years old again, sitting across from her guidance counselor, Mr. Samuels, who kept glancing at the clock. She’d thought it odd at the time that he hadn’t said anything when she’d walked in. Normally, he would make attempts at small talk. It wasn’t until the cop showed up that she started to sweat.
“No, no, no!” Agnus shouted, trying to pull herself back to the present. She didn’t want to remember the moment the cop looked at her. The moment he put his hand on her shoulder, explaining that her parents had been in a car accident. The moment she learned both of her parents were dead. Instead, her brain honed in on another memory.
“Alright Agnus, my name is Gary, and I’ll be your test administer for today,” the short, overweight, balding man said as he maneuvered his way into the tiny Honda Civic.
Agnus’ hands shook as she moved them to ten and two. Ten years since her parents accident, and she’d only recently found the courage to get her driver’s license. In high school and college, public transportation and her bike had worked fine, but she was an adult now.
She felt sweat begin to form in the small of her back, her parents at the forefront of her mind. She took three calming breaths as she put the car in reverse and pulled out of the DMV parking lot and onto the smooth black tar, cautiously glancing every which way, waiting for something. Some car to turn too quickly, some person to run into the road. Something… anything.
Was this how my dad felt that day? Was he nervous? Did he see the semi coming?
Agnus’ vision began to swim, blackness creeping along the edges as her breathing became rapid. She heard Gary’s voice trying to get her attention, but she couldn’t understand him.
It was Agnus’ own scream that ripped her back to reality. She found herself curled in the corner. She was closer to the door now. Five years since her car accident, and she still hadn’t gotten her license. Five years since she’d felt the sun on her skin. 20 self-help books since she’d smelled fresh air.
The tears she’d tried so hard to hold back flowed freely down her cheeks.
This is a step forward. Agnus tried to convince herself as she rose steadily to her feet. “The best chance you have of getting outside is to let whatever hurt you in,” Agnus quoted from the book.
“Deep breaths Agnus, you got this,” she reaffirmed.
You can’t keep living this way.
“One.”
She started toward the door.
“Two.”
“Three.”
“Four.”
Almost.
“Five,” she announced, her hand now on the doorknob, just one small twist separating her from everything she’d spent so long hiding from. One small twist, and she could make up for all those hours indoors. Job opportunities missed, friends lost, birthdays spent alone.
Ring, ring, ring. The phone’s strident interruption caught Agnus’ attention. She looked back and forth between the door and the noise, caught between the two. Judgement screamed that she stay, but before she knew it, she found herself moving swiftly toward the sound.
It could be important, she reasoned.
She made it to the phone after three chimes.
“Hello, this is Agnus speaking.”
She waited, twisting her shoulder-length brown hair around her finger with her free hand.
“Hello,” she repeated, a slight quiver in her voice.
It has to be important.
There was a click.
“Hello,” an automated voice sputtered out. “Are you aware that your credit card could be up for--”
The voice trailed on, but Agnus had stopped listening. She hung up the phone, placed it on the kitchen counter, and slowly, made her way to the living room.
And so, Agnus resumed her position on the sofa, opened the book to page 210, and began reading the final chapter for the third time that day.
At least I made it to the door this time, she thought bitterly.