about what’s going on in their lives. The successes and the stumbles.”
“Does everybody talk?”
“You don’t have to, but it helps. They understand in a way no one else can. You ever talk to another agoraphobic before?”
Caleb shook his head. “I’ve gone to an online bulletin board a few times, but never posted.” He looked at his clenched hands. “I didn’t know what to say.”
“In AA, they always want to know your story. Can you tell me how it started? Or would that freak you out?” When Caleb narrowed his eyes, Logan covered his face with his hands. “Sorry, I’m an idiot.”
Pulling his hands from his face, Caleb said, “You really are,” but his voice was light and teasing.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
Caleb made his way into the kitchen and pulled two bottles of water from the fridge. He settled back on the couch and handed Logan a drink. “The first time it happened was during my freshman year at college. I’d been marathon studying, guzzling coffee, and stressing out about final exams. One minute I was sitting in the library with a calculus book on my lap and in the next, I was huddled under a desk, feeling more afraid than I had in my whole life.” He unscrewed the top of his bottle and took a sip of water. “My heart felt like someone had taken a blowtorch to it. I clung to that book, thinking that if I started going crazy, I’d hit myself over the head to knock myself out. Somehow that was a comforting thought because it meant I might be able to stop those awful feelings.” He looked at the bottle and started peeling off the label. “I shook off the experience and the concerned library aide, telling her and myself I wouldn’t put my body through that kind of physical stress again. A month later, it happened again. I stopped going to the library.”
“Did you get any help?”
“Not until my junior year.” His eyes grew distant like he was being sucked back to that time. “I’d go to the cafeteria and see students standing in line and sitting at tables and I just couldn’t bring myself to go inside. I tried going during off times and that helped sometimes but not enough. I couldn’t afford to buy my own food, so I started losing weight.” His hand moved to his stomach, rubbing back and forth seemingly unconsciously. The ill-fitting sweats and T-shirts were starting to make sense. The thought of Caleb being skinny enough for them to fit made Logan’s gut clench.
“One of the lunch ladies followed me back to my dorm room after an aborted attempt to go into the cafeteria. This old lady in a hairnet muscled her way into my room and started talking about how anorexia wasn’t just for girls.” He rolled his eyes, but his expression was fond. “She was the first person I told and she was really great about it. She arranged to have meals bagged for me and I could pick them up at the back entrance to the cafeteria. She slipped in pamphlets from the campus wellness center. It was a while before I could bring myself to see the counselors. They sent me straight to the hospital when they learned my mother had had heart problems all her life. When the tests all came back normal, I almost didn’t go back to the wellness center, but I knew I needed help if I was going to graduate. I couldn’t face the idea of telling my mom I’d failed because I was too afraid to go to class. They helped me enough to graduate.”
Logan wanted to say something comforting, something that would chase the haunted look from Caleb’s eyes, but words failed him. He swallowed hard. “It’s probably time for me to head over to Nick’s.” It wasn’t, but if he didn’t get out of here, he’d do something drastic like hug Caleb.
Caleb nodded as if he’d expected Logan to react like an asshole and wasn’t bothered by it.
Logan got up and headed for the door. “I’ll stop off at Foremost and get some Coke. You need anything?”
Caleb leaped from the couch and crossed the room rapidly. He
“Does everybody talk?”
“You don’t have to, but it helps. They understand in a way no one else can. You ever talk to another agoraphobic before?”
Caleb shook his head. “I’ve gone to an online bulletin board a few times, but never posted.” He looked at his clenched hands. “I didn’t know what to say.”
“In AA, they always want to know your story. Can you tell me how it started? Or would that freak you out?” When Caleb narrowed his eyes, Logan covered his face with his hands. “Sorry, I’m an idiot.”
Pulling his hands from his face, Caleb said, “You really are,” but his voice was light and teasing.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
Caleb made his way into the kitchen and pulled two bottles of water from the fridge. He settled back on the couch and handed Logan a drink. “The first time it happened was during my freshman year at college. I’d been marathon studying, guzzling coffee, and stressing out about final exams. One minute I was sitting in the library with a calculus book on my lap and in the next, I was huddled under a desk, feeling more afraid than I had in my whole life.” He unscrewed the top of his bottle and took a sip of water. “My heart felt like someone had taken a blowtorch to it. I clung to that book, thinking that if I started going crazy, I’d hit myself over the head to knock myself out. Somehow that was a comforting thought because it meant I might be able to stop those awful feelings.” He looked at the bottle and started peeling off the label. “I shook off the experience and the concerned library aide, telling her and myself I wouldn’t put my body through that kind of physical stress again. A month later, it happened again. I stopped going to the library.”
“Did you get any help?”
“Not until my junior year.” His eyes grew distant like he was being sucked back to that time. “I’d go to the cafeteria and see students standing in line and sitting at tables and I just couldn’t bring myself to go inside. I tried going during off times and that helped sometimes but not enough. I couldn’t afford to buy my own food, so I started losing weight.” His hand moved to his stomach, rubbing back and forth seemingly unconsciously. The ill-fitting sweats and T-shirts were starting to make sense. The thought of Caleb being skinny enough for them to fit made Logan’s gut clench.
“One of the lunch ladies followed me back to my dorm room after an aborted attempt to go into the cafeteria. This old lady in a hairnet muscled her way into my room and started talking about how anorexia wasn’t just for girls.” He rolled his eyes, but his expression was fond. “She was the first person I told and she was really great about it. She arranged to have meals bagged for me and I could pick them up at the back entrance to the cafeteria. She slipped in pamphlets from the campus wellness center. It was a while before I could bring myself to see the counselors. They sent me straight to the hospital when they learned my mother had had heart problems all her life. When the tests all came back normal, I almost didn’t go back to the wellness center, but I knew I needed help if I was going to graduate. I couldn’t face the idea of telling my mom I’d failed because I was too afraid to go to class. They helped me enough to graduate.”
Logan wanted to say something comforting, something that would chase the haunted look from Caleb’s eyes, but words failed him. He swallowed hard. “It’s probably time for me to head over to Nick’s.” It wasn’t, but if he didn’t get out of here, he’d do something drastic like hug Caleb.
Caleb nodded as if he’d expected Logan to react like an asshole and wasn’t bothered by it.
Logan got up and headed for the door. “I’ll stop off at Foremost and get some Coke. You need anything?”
Caleb leaped from the couch and crossed the room rapidly. He
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