As promised, here’s the first chapter of Social Phobia. If you want a little more info on the story and characters, they can be found [HERE]. Questions, comments, and constructive criticism are welcome and appreciated.
Social Phobia
Chapter 1: The Piano in the Window
I stood alone in the middle of my room, scanning all around me, lazily trying to identify something I had missed while attempting to keep my mind from wandering. Nothing obvious jumped out at me. I looked down at the open duffle bags on my bed. They were all filled to the brim and I reached down and battled with the zippers until I managed to close each and every one of them. After plopping down on the bed next to the bags and sighing, I fixed my eyes on the open door.
Just then, my dad wandered into the doorway. “All packed up for the new semester?” he asked in his hearty, cheerful voice.
I took a quick look around out of habit. “I think so…I’ve got some shirts hanging up in the closet, but I think I’ve got everything else all squared away,” was my response.
“You got your contacts?”
“Yeah.”
“Contact solution?”
“Yup”
“Toothpaste?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Checkbook?”
“I’ve got everything,” I finally cut in. He would have kept going down his mental list had I not interjected.
My dad frowned a little. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t forget anything,” he muttered rather dejectedly.
“Thanks, I appreciate it,” I replied, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. I was not entirely sure if I succeeded to that end.
“C’mon, I’ll help you load what’s left into the car,” he offered, moving swiftly across my room with his long stride and hoisting up one of the larger bags. He grunted as he lifted it and I could almost hear his body groaning. I smiled a bit to myself, but I made sure he didn’t notice.
I stood back up, grabbed another bag, and followed him downstairs and out the front door. I reached into my pocket and felt around the little remote on my key ring, searching for the trunk-release to my car. It took a moment, but finally, the car let out a loud clunk and the trunk popped open.
My dad gently set the bag he was carrying in the empty compartment and took the mine. The weight of the one he chose seemed to have taken quite a bit out of him. “Why don’t you bring out the rest of the bags and boxes and I’ll pack them away in here, alright, bud?” he proposed with a smile.
I nodded and turned to head inside before replying simply with, “Alright.”
It took the better part of fifteen minutes to transport all of my belongings from the house to my car. Occasionally, I’d check my dad’s progress in fitting everything into the little sedan. It seemed like an impossible task. I swear, though…my dad must have been the Tetris world champion in his day. Not a single square inch of that trunk was wasted before he started loading things into the back seat. Finally, I left the house with my laptop stored away in my messenger bag – arguably my most valuable possession. I walked around to the passenger’s side of the car and very carefully set the bag on the floor in front of the seat.
“Is that everything?” my dad inquired, looking into the car. It was jam-packed. Even my TV fit in there somehow.
I nodded. “Yeah, I think so…”
For a moment, I thought my dad was going to go through the list of things I’d probably forgotten again, but he didn’t. “Do you need anything else before you head out?” he asked, staring at me very seriously.
“No, I’m pretty sure I’m good to go. I’ll probably pick up something to drink when I gas up to hold me over until I get there,” I responded.
“Okay…call when you get to school,” he requested.
“Will do,” I promised.
“Keep me updated on your finances, too. I’ll throw some more money in your account when you get low. Oh, and don’t forget to call every Sunday so I know you’re doing alright out there,” he added. I could just pick up on a slight pleading tone in his voice when he said that last part.
“I know, I will,” I responded. Just then, I felt a pang of guilt in the pit of my stomach. I always made this promise, but I usually forgot half the weeks, often resulting in my dad calling after awhile just to make sure I was still breathing. He never called me out on it, though.
He paused for a moment and frowned, visibly searching for what to say. “I…Your mother would be very proud of you, Matt…I just wish…” He cleared his throat and held out his hand. “Good luck, this semester,” he stated.
I nodded and took his hand. After a firm handshake, my dad backed away from the car, allowing me to slip into the driver’s seat. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll, uh…I’ll do you both proud,” I responded with a reassuring smile. He nodded back at me as I closed the door and started the car.
I sat there for a moment, perfectly still, before donning my sunglasses and kicking the car into reverse and pulling out of the driveway. The driveway to my house had a bit of a bend in it and less-experienced visitors to my house had taken out the landscaping lights on numerous occasions. But I knew what I was doing; so after checking to make sure I wasn’t going to hit one of the neighbors on their morning jog, I allowed myself to take one last look at my house before I pulled out.
It was the kind of house I wanted to live in when I grew up; the kind of house that you invited all your friends to. It wasn’t anywhere close to a mansion, but it was pretty big. Suddenly, I had an image of my dad wandering around the house alone. It was the same image I had every year when I went away, and it always made me a little sad for leaving him behind.
I forced myself to suppress those thoughts as I shifted into drive and took off down the road. I stopped at a nearby gas station to fill up the car. While the gasoline pumped into the tank, I leaned against the side of the car and looked around. I was on the edge of the quiet little suburb I’d grown up in – on the border between my relatively sheltered life and the rest of the world. There was a time not so long ago when I’d have been terrified of what was out there; but when what was out there came here, those fears sort of slowly drifted away. At least, that’s how I rationalized it all.
The pump made some annoying sound, like someone dropped a hammer on a hunk of metal, announcing that it refused to fill my tank further, and effectively tore me from my thoughts. I returned the hose to its home and ran inside to buy a soda for the road. Before long, I was off once again.
On my way to the expressway, I always passed my dad’s practice. I always read his name off the sign out of habit: “Dr. Gregory Burns.” Those three words on the clinic were always a source of pride for me. More recently, they were a source of comfort. Everybody loved my dad; they told me he was one of the most knowledgeable physicians that they actually enjoyed talking to. I always took that to be some sort of generalizing remark about how good doctors are mostly all humungous assholes, so I accepted it as an especially generous compliment. It also assured me that, even though I was gone, my dad wouldn’t be lonely.
I sighed. One day, I’d be more like him, once I start my career. One day, I’d be able to go through what he went through and still come out the other side a decent human being. But for now, I was just a leech, draining ever more from his surprisingly endless funds until I am strong enough to break away and live independently.
I mentally punched myself in the gut. There are a lot of people who would kill to be in my position and here I was feeling almost ashamed of it. What can I say? I wasn’t raised to take it for granted.
After another few minutes, I was on the expressway. At this point, I turned the CD player on and let my mind wander while my body went into autopilot. It was a little over two hours’ drive down to school, and I’ve found that getting lost in my thoughts was the best way to cope with the boredom of driving past cornfield after cornfield that characterized most of the Midwest.
Before I knew it, I had reached the city of Star Falls, named after the Star Enterprises Corporation that sat at the center of the city and towered over the area like a benevolent king. I always thought it sounded like the name of a level from any number of popular Nintendo franchises. From what I heard, Star was the heart and soul of the town, supplying the vast majority of jobs for the area and keeping the local economy active and stimulated. Every time I caught sight of the Star Enterprises tower, I always wondered what it is they actually did in that building. This time was no different. I’d driven in the shadow of this building probably a couple dozen times now, and its mysterious workings still eluded me.
I kept on the expressway until I reached the other side of the city before exiting. The street I turned on to always had such a neat effect in the spring and summer. Houses and apartment complexes filed all the way down the street. However, there were trees between most of the buildings and the road, creating a natural, verdant tunnel that always made me feel like I was taking some sort of secret passageway, hidden away from the world.
At the end of my favorite little tunnel, the world opened up again, revealing the gates to Calligow University. I guess they were really just gates in the symbolic sense, since they never closed. Come to think of it, I didn’t know if they even could close anymore, or if they were ever intended to. Who knows?
I was stopped dead by the line of cars as parents were moving their kids into their new dorms… typical move-in day. There was nothing to do but look around at the all-too-familiar buildings that I’d basically called my home for the better part of the last two years. It was a small university, but the campus was open and beautiful, with tree-dotted quads sandwiching the main drive towards the academic buildings. The dorms stood closer to the gates and led off to the side down long parking lots. Straight ahead of the gate stood the crown jewel of the university: Calligow Hall, which claimed home to the vast majority of departments in the college; its old-timey, Victorian architecture was incredibly inviting, as if to say “we’re classy, so you know you’ll learn a lot.”
It took quite some time, but I was finally able to find a parking spot near my new dorm: a building called Providentia Hall, apparently named after some Roman goddess or something. All of the dorms were tied to mythology in some way.
I grabbed only my messenger bag and got out of the car to go get my room key. The lobby was lively as freshman and their parents were filling out forms and signing agreements. I asserted my way to the front desk and requested my key. The student attendant asked to see my student ID and then found my room key for me.
“Welcome back to Calligow University!” the girl at the desk welcomed warmly as I turned.
“Thanks,” I responded automatically. My room was on the first floor, so I walked over to another set of doors that led to the actual dorm rooms. They had this thing about needing to use your key multiple times to actually get into your room. I walked down the hall, reading the numbers on the door descend until I had located mine: 104. It was at the far end of the hall, almost right next to the back exit to the hall. I checked the knob first: the door was locked, so I used my key and opened the door. I had apparently beaten my roommate back to school.
The room was empty and, well frankly, it was kind of depressing not having anything in it. That would soon change, of course. At least it started off clean. I liked what I saw. This dorm had lofted beds, situated over an area perfect for a small couch or futon to sit on and our TV and mini-fridge. There was a long desk along one wall that ended where one bed began. Across from that was the closet, which filled the other wall to the opposing bed. I picked that one for my side; I liked the option of putting things on top of the closet. It was a huge improvement over the other dorms I’d been in where the beds were supposed to be pushed in to make little couches for seating. I set my messenger bag down on the desk.
I left the room and headed for the exit; the back door was propped open with a brick to make sure that people could more easily move their belongings into the dorm. I stood in front of my car for a moment before taking a deep breath and diving in to start pulling out boxes. It took me about half an hour to get everything into my room. Then I had a new problem: there was this massive blob of stuff in the middle of the room. I wasn’t entirely sure how to attack such a daunting creature. It was easy enough to hang up my button-downs in the closet when I brought them in, but there were just so many containers to go through.
This wasn’t good. I just got here and was already battling with motivation problems. I forced myself to grab one of the duffels I knew to house some of my clothes and opened it. Slowly, I started to distribute my clothing articles amongst the drawers that made the support-structure for the bed. It was slow work, mostly because I made it slow. I looked around for a place to sit while I sifted through my clothing. The room had come with these little desk chairs that didn’t look too terribly comfortable and my roommate was bringing the futon, so it looked like I was without a comfy seat for awhile. I made a note to go out and buy a real chair later that afternoon.
My newly formed plans to obtain a desk chair had the strange effect of energizing me and I unpacked quicker. After a couple of hours, I had finished and there was now a neat pile of flattened duffle bags on top of the closet and a stack of empty boxes outside the door by the trashcans. All that was left was my television and the large bag containing my video games and consoles. Those would have to wait for my roommate’s arrival when he brought the TV stand. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket to check the time; it was almost noon. As if in direct response to seeing the time, my gut began to churn and gurgle. “I guess it’s time for lunch, huh?” I said aloud. I don’t think I was really talking to anyone. Maybe I was talking to my stomach to reassure it that its pleas had been heard.
It would suck to give up my parking space so soon. I probably wouldn’t get it back. Then again, I figured I could just park in the parking deck from there on out. It wasn’t too far from the parking deck to Providentia.
As I walked out the door, my phone started to vibrate. I looked down at the screen – it was my dad. Crap. “Hi, Dad,” I greeted as I answered.
“Well hey! How was the drive? I assume you made it down there alright?” he responded cheerfully.
“Yeah, I did…sorry I forgot to call right away. I guess I got lost in the excitement of everything and then I moved my stuff into my room,” I explained. It was the first day and I was already forgetting promises I made to him.
“Don’t worry about it. That’s what I figured, anyway. Well, I just wanted to call and make sure everything was alright. I’m sure you’ve got a lot to do today. Give me a call if you need anything.” He didn’t sound all that put-off about it, but I still felt a little guilty – as if I was failing to live up to even his most basic expectations.
“Alright…I’ll call you tomorrow, like I promised,” I vowed.
“I look forward to hearing from you!” We bade each other goodbye and I hung up the phone.
I didn’t feel guilty for long. Another loud gurgle from my stomach realigned my thoughts back on food. I reached my car and cautiously pulled out of the parking space. There were people everywhere. With a little luck and a lot of patience – since people seemed to have no regard, whatsoever, for the motorized death-machine rolling towards them – I managed to get off campus.
I was out for only about an hour. I stopped by a local fast-food joint for a burger, since I figured it’d be best to start out the semester healthy. Afterwards, I drove out to some store in search of a suitable desk chair. I found one that was remarkably comfortable that was fairly reasonably priced, so I went ahead and bought it. The box almost didn’t fit in the back of my car.
It didn’t take me long to assemble the chair, even though the instructions had to have been written in Scandinavian or some crap like that. The little elevation lever didn’t work, but it was at the right height anyway, so I didn’t really care. I pushed the little chair the school had provided out into the hall for someone else to take care of and wheeled my new chair in front of the desk. I took a seat and pulled my laptop out of my messenger bag. Every year I had to re-register my computer with the school’s network, which always sucked on the first day because everyone was trying to do it all at once, but it seemed like a good time. I figured it was early enough in the day that most people were still distracted with the moving-in activities.
Just as I was finishing, I heard a familiar voice just outside the door. I swiveled the chair around just in time as the door opened. “I’ve been expecting you,” I stated in a creepy, monotone voice while making a motion with my hand as if petting an imaginary cat.
My roommate, a tall, wide guy named Scott Sharps, stood in the doorway with an amused smile on his face. “Dude, you’re such a dumbass,” he laughed, walking past me and carrying a large bag not unlike those I had toted in earlier.
“Good to see you too.” His parents were close behind him with more stuff. I greeted them each cheerfully and stood up. “You guys need any help?”
Scott’s mom smiled. “That would be lovely, Matthew; thank you,” she accepted.
With the four of us, it didn’t take long to move Scott’s belongings into the room. While his mom helped him put his clothes away, I set to work assembling the futon and sliding it into the area under Scott’s bed. If I got the one next to the closet, he got the bed across from the TV. There was barely an inch of space between the futon and the wall: a perfect fit. His dad helped us arrange the TV stand and the mini-fridge on the other side and we got my television all set up.
When everything was unpacked, Scott and his family headed out for a late lunch. They invited me, but since I’d already eaten, I opted to hang around campus. I took a few minutes unloading all of my games and game console and hooking it up to the TV, but I wasn’t particularly interested in starting to game quite yet. I felt kind of restless for some reason, so I left the room – locking the door behind me – and went for a stroll.
I wasn’t heading anywhere in particular; I was just sort of wandering around the campus. It was such a nice day out: sunny, but with a breeze that kept it from feeling too warm. Campus had quieted down somewhat. Most of the students who had planned on actually moving in on move-in day had already arrived. There were a few late-comers scurrying about, but it was all considerably less chaotic.
As I was passing by the singles dorm, named Muta Hall, I started to hear music. Someone was playing the piano. I looked around, but didn’t see anyone. Though, I suppose I wasn’t surprised that I didn’t see someone sitting out on the lawn with their keyboard set up. I quickly surveyed Muta Hall to try to figure out where the sound was coming from. There was a single window open up on the second floor. The music was coming from there. It was a slow, sorrowful, almost confused melody. I in no way count myself to be the expert on music, but my dad loved classical music and I’d accompanied him to the symphony or the occasional recital. This didn’t really sound like the style of any of the composers I’d heard. It sounded more…spontaneous, as if the player didn’t know where the song was going but was merely playing their emotions. That’s probably a weird way to think about it, but, as I said, I’m not an expert on music. I lack the language to really explain what it sounded like.
I stared hard at the window as I listened to the tune. I could just barely make out the silhouette of a person’s profile; it looked like this person was a girl, but it was hard to tell. I stared for several moments, but I failed to get a better look or even get the person’s attention – not that I was particularly trying to. There was a low stone wall next to the sidewalk, so I sat on it and just listened for awhile. Something about the song was entrancing. It allowed me to let my mind wander and ideas and stories would form in my head that fit the tone. I had to admit, some of the images my brain created as a result were rather concerning.
I don’t know how long I sat on that wall listening to sounds of the piano drifting out of that second-story window. All I know is that, at some point, someone slapped me upside the head, painfully tearing me away from my pensive state. It was Scott.
“Hey, Earth to Matt!” he called out as he struck me again.
I let out a short yelp, mostly out of surprise than pain, but it did sting quite a bit. “You bitch! What’d you do that for?” I complained.
“Because it looked like I could do it without you noticing,” he replied with a chuckle. “What were you doing?”
“I was…” I stopped, the music had ceased. I looked up at the window again. Whoever had been playing the piano was no longer seated where they had been before. I thought I could see what looked like part of someone’s head peaking down through the side of the window, but they kept to the shadows. Our little scene must have finally alerted the musician that someone was listening. “Never mind. Let’s head back.”
Scott shrugged. “Aight.”
As we walked back to Providentia Hall, I peered back really quickly at the window. The person was gone. I simply kept going, trying to remember how that solemn melody went.
“So what classes are you taking this semester?” Scott asked.
“Huh? Oh, um…a couple of psych classes and the rest are creative writing things,” I responded vaguely.
“So you’re going through with that creative writing minor?”
“Yeah, dude…I may suck at writing, but it’s fun. I’m in this class where I hear they don’t actually teach. Class is just time for you to practice writing and talk with the professor or other students about your writing in order to make it better.”
“Any assignments?”
“As far as I know, you tell the professor early on what you’ll have for them at the end and it’s up to you to get it done.”
“So you’re finally gonna finish that novel you’ve been working on?” Scott asked sheepishly.
“Maybe, smartass…maybe.”
He laughed. “Well that’s cool. I’m just taking more multimedia and computer design classes. Keep working on that writing and we’ll make a game for my senior project and you can write the story and script.” Scott had dreams of becoming a game designer.
“We’ll see…”
We made it back to our room. We both dropped down on the futon just in time for someone to knock on our door. Being the leaner of the two of us, I could get off the couch the easiest. With a sigh, I stood back up to go answer it. It was another guy, about a head shorter than me, but very wiry, much like myself. “Hi?” I greeted questioningly.
“What up? I’m Adam, your RA. You must be…?” he introduced, trailing off to let me answer.
“Matt…Matt Burns,” I responded, offering my hand. He shook it.
“Hey, Matt. I just wanted to let you know, there’s a floor meeting tonight where we’re all going to introduce ourselves and everything. We’ll meet out here in the hall at eight,” he informed me. “Let your roommate know, okay?”
I nodded. “Will do. See you then.”
Adam walked off to deliver the message to other people on the floor. I walked back and sat back down on the futon.
“Oh, by the way…” I began.
“I’m not deaf,” Scott interrupted. He picked up one of my game controllers. “Wanna go?” he challenged.
“Let’s do it!” Scott never beat me. Today was no different. We played until we were hungry and then hit the cafeteria for dinner. Afterwards, we attended the floor meeting, where we discovered that about half of the residents on the first floor all liked the same types of video games, so we arranged a floor-wide game of our favorite first-person shooter with roommates on a team against other rooms. Scott and I won; it wasn’t really all that difficult. We continued playing until around two in the morning. At that point, we figured it would be time to go to sleep.
***
I found myself walking down the street. I looked around. Everything looked familiar; I wasn’t in school, though. Then it hit me: this was my hometown. It was a pleasant day in the middle of the summer. I became aware that I was walking with someone. I glanced off to my right. I was walking alongside a very familiar woman who was quite a bit shorter than I was. She had light-brown hair, like me, and very similar bluish-green eyes. I flashed a bright smile.
It was my mom.
I wanted to speak, but for some reason, I didn’t. We were out shopping, walking around the “down-town” section of the suburb where I’d grown up.
I looked down at myself. I felt younger. My clothes were somehow different; it was a style that I hadn’t worn in quite some time.
“Come on, Matthew, we still need to get you some new clothes for school,” my mom urged as I lagged behind a little. This whole scene was so strangely familiar.
I heard something. Music? I’d heard the song before, too…but not here – never at home. Where was it from? It was so distant…so sad. My head was swirling from this combination of old and new. What was going on? Was this a dream? If it was, then what…
My eyes widened. I knew this memory. The somber piano solo was a new addition, but I knew where I was. My heart started to race, but I couldn’t seem to make myself move any faster.
“Why can’t I just wear what I have?” I complained. Why was I complaining about clothing? Come on, you idiot, don’t you know what day it is?
My mom laughed a little. “Because half your clothes have holes in them, sweetie. It won’t take long.” We were nearing the end. I was beginning to panic, but my body didn’t seem to respond.
“Fine, whatever.” That was really what I said…That was it… The music picked up in pace and became quite agitated and suspenseful. It all seemed almost theatrical.
“Oh, don’t be like that, Matthew. A couple of hours with your mother won’t hurt,” she responded calmly. “Years from now, when you have kids, you’ll think back to today and…” What she intended me to think back to, I’d never know. Shit…Shit…stop walking, Mom!
The music stopped abruptly. A deafening bang shattered the peaceful streets. People screamed. Next thing I knew, my mom was on the ground. There was blood; lots of blood. She wasn’t moving. Her eyes were open and appeared fixed on something. Oh God no!
“Mom?” No response. I called a little louder. “Mom?” Still nothing.
“Mom!” I cried, shooting up in my bed. I was sweating and breathing hard; my heart was racing. It took me a moment to realize where I was: I was safely back in my dorm room at school.
I nervously glanced over across the room. Scott was sitting up; I could see his form through the darkness. While I couldn’t make out his face, I could tell his concerned eyes were on me. “That dream again?”
I nodded, continuing to pant. “Y-yeah…” I responded weakly.
“You okay, dude?”
“Don’t worry about it…let’s just go back to bed,” I replied sorrowfully. I saw him lay back down and did the same. I rolled over, facing the wall. I wasn’t able to go back to sleep for some time. It had been months since I’d had that dream. It never got any easier. Tears welled up in my eyes, but never dropped.
…Shit…
Mind of Malm 