Arachnophobia: A fear of spiders
I decided to move in with Selene after two months of dating. I told my Mom that my lease was coming up anyways. When I talked to my Dad it made sense to financially split the costs of living. I lied to myself about a million different reasons, all valid in some small way. But I hate being alone. Sipping a single serving of coffee from a large coffee pot was a constant reminder of all the absences in my life. Victories and failures all landed on me with the same indifference with few people to share them with. Spending any more time by myself was torture. People who have always had someone just do not understand how isolation is the hardest prison to break out of. I wanted to move in because somebody would be there. To me, us growing to love each other would be an unexpected bonus, so long as Selene was there to talk to.
In my time on my own, I had barely managed to furnish my studio apartment. I had coyly told others who came to visit me I was a minimalist. In reality, I did not want to move out a bunch of junk I would not take with me. My apartment was more of a staging area for something else to happen in. I had found most of my furniture around town. As I prepared to leave, almost all of my things were returned to the curb from where I found it. My peeling pine dresser and wobbly coffee table were the only things I directly put into a dumpster. I had lived in that studio apartment for five years and moved out in five hours. As I set the last box into my car, I stopped by my buzzer. I ripped the tape reading “Carroll, Marcus” off the button. It felt like a ghost moving on from the last bit that held it here.
I was apprehensive as I triple checked the trunk of my beige sedan. Even in the high towers of my internationally styled apartment building, there was always light and something happening. The busy city streets hummed with people and traffic. Some new construction projects echoed against the buildings, punctuated by car horns. Lights from the streets and neon signs flashed at all hours creating a dim haze in the night. Never allowing the people below to experience true darkness or starlight.
I worried that I was trading a million opportunities, for a single choice that always had to be made the same way. From the pictures she sent me, Selene lived in a dark grey Victorian home. The type that had turrets, ornately paned windows, and high arches and peaks on the roof. It was like the home had been dropped into the center of the woods. So far removed from the urban, or even suburban, life I had known. The drive to her home was about three hours away from the life I had not enjoyed living but had ever known. Since I worked as a freelance artist, where I was did not matter so much as long as I had a quick internet connection or a close FedEx store. As the city faded further and further into my rearview mirror, a rope that was tied around me became looser and looser. I was finally free of that weighted loneliness. I fidgeted behind the steering wheel. I was almost too excited to focus on driving. My mind daydreaming about the possibilities of the new life I was creating.
Selene and I had met through my work. We have known each other for about three months but had gotten serious after about one month. I had been commissioned by the Botanical Garden she worked for, to help create a new exhibit brochure and a banner for their Fall gardens. The Gardens had asked I come out in person to meet with them and to see their gardens for inspiration. I was hesitant to accept the commission since they were asking for less than my standard rate, but with a complimentary hotel room for the drive and food voucher, I accepted. Selene was the one who greeted me when I arrived at the parking lot that morning.
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