pho·bi·a (fō'bē-ə)

That Which Is Death: Chapter 2
pho·bi·a (fō'b�"-ə)

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His parent had been equally worried when they found that they were not allowed to touch their son and expressed their concerns with his doctors. The doctors had wanted to perform several tests on him, much to his chagrin. They had persisted, and Aaron finally relented with one stiff condition: everyone was to be covered in some kind of clothing and was not to touch his skin without some sort of protection. Of course, he didn't give an explanation, but was completely adamant until everyone had complied. They had gone over a brief diagnostics test and discovered nothing wrong, and then had Aaron's brain scanned for damage or inflammation. Again, they found nothing wrong. 

Currently he was in his room by himself. His parents had left to talk to the doctors some more and his sister had been made to go back to school. Soon, though, he grew bored, and he needed to fix a huge problem immediately �" the hospital gown he was wearing was far too open and reveal too much skin for him to rest comfortably. He pulled the IV out of his arm and ripped off the heart monitor. The machine began to beep wildly and he hurriedly jumped out of bed. He pulled the thin, white hospital blanket around his form, making sure every part of him was covered, and inched towards the door. If he didn't get out fast, nurses and doctors would rush in and force him back to bed. He peered through the small glass window and inched the door open, looking left and right for an authority figure that would make him return. There were only a few patients and some busy nurses, so he stepped out and walked quickly down the hall, sticking to the edge of the wall and trying to be as discreet as a figure covered in a white blanket could be. He came across several rooms, most were patients rooms (the people inside looked at him strangely when he peered in each one) but finally he found what he was looking for �" the supply room. He slipped in unnoticed and dropped his blanket on the floor as he searched up and down the small isles. Finally he found the medical clothing and pulled out various articles of clothing in his size. He pulled on the mint green pants and found an equally green long-sleeve shirt. On the top rack he found the sanitary booties, a minty fresh smelling mask and a poofy, elastic hat. It took a little more searching, but he eventually found a pair of sterile plastic gloves as well. Confident that he was thoroughly covered, he left the room and stepped down the hallway, back towards his assigned room, leaving the hospital blanket forgotten in the supply room. As he walked down the hallway on the opposite side as before, there was an open door and he could hear the voice of his mother and father speaking. He crept up to the door and stood against the wall, listening to the conversation.

"What did you find out from the tests?" His father asked. He was a man who always got straight to the point without all the pointless chit-chat.

"Well, Mr. Tucker, honestly we couldn't find one thing wrong with your son. His wounds have healed for the most part and his heart is beating as normally as any other seventeen year old boys would. We really don't have an explanation as to why he doesn't want to be touched, most likely a mild case of trauma from the crash has caused his phobia."

"Will it ever go away?" His mother questioned nervously. His mother had a bad habit of worrying too much and predicting the worst.

"Maybe, maybe not �" only time will tell."

Aaron kept walking; it would not do for his parents and doctor to find out he was out of bed, although they would eventually find out due to his new clothes. He walked back into his room; the beeping had been turned off and angry looking nurse stood next to his bed with her arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. Thankfully the angry nurse could not see his face because an ornery grin grew on his face as he climbed back into bed.

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pho·bi·a (fō'b�"-ə)
n.

1. A persistent, abnormal, and irrational fear of a specific thing or situation that compels one to avoid it, despite the awareness and reassurance that it is not dangerous.

2. A strong fear, dislike, or aversion.

[From -phobia.]

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He had stayed at the hospital a few days more and finally he was released. His mom and sister had brought him some clothes �" a long sleeve, black jacket, jeans, a tee shirt, and some tennis shoes �" like he had requested and they had taken him back to the comforts of his home. His sister had talked constantly the whole time and had demanded to sit next to him in the back seat of the car (his mother was too paranoid to let him sit in the passenger's seat).

"It really seems like forever since you've been at home. I think is been almost two weeks �" right mom?"

"Yes, sweetheart."

"I cleaned your room for you while you were in the hospital. It was a really big mess �" it took me all day." she nodded vigorously. "Popeye has missed you too. At nights he always goes and scratches at your door, and since you aren't there, he sleeps curled up in a ball right outside you door �" right mom?"

Their mother nodded.

"I think Popeye will be happy that you're back because he can go back to sleeping in your bed every night."

Popeye is the dog Aaron got on his tenth birthday. His parents had taken him to the Humane Society and he got to choose any dog he wanted. He was immediately drawn to a one year old, three legged pup that had been in an accident. He had medium-long grey fur with a white belly and a brown patch around his left eye and on his snout. His parents had tried to dissuade him from getting the crippled dog, but he could not be deterred and ended up carrying the pup to the car and home. The dog had been by his side ever since and would hop into Aaron's bed with him every night and wake him up with a few licks in the morning.

Aaron's sister shrieked excitedly and locked arms with her brother's, who had stuffed his uncovered hands in his pockets, and leaned her head on his shoulder. "I'm so happy your back, I missed you."

"Ah, um…" Aaron squirmed under her touch, worried that he would accidently touch her as his neck and face were not covered.

"Elizabeth, please get off your brother. He said he did not want to be touched and, as you can see, he is uncomfortable." Their mother said, looking through the rearview mirror.

Elizabeth pulled back suddenly and looked at her brother with a face of guilt, holding her hands together as if restraining them, "Oh, I �" I'm sorry, I forgot…"

Aaron forced on a smile, "It's…okay." He watched his sister as she settled her hands in her lap and confined herself to a small space so as not to even accidentally touch her brother. She quieted down and looked straight ahead with a look of concentration and self-berating on her face.

"Lizzie," Aaron spoke, feeling guilty for making his sister feel bad, "that was…a little much," he lifted up an elbow, making sure his hand stayed in his pocket, "but you can still hold my arm if you want."

She looked over to him with wide eyes, "Are you sure?"

He nodded and lifted his elbow a little farther. Lizzie smiled and cheerily locked arms with him once more, continuing her endless chatter until they finally reached home.

Once they arrived at home, Lizzie had pulled him inside, arms still locked.

"Popeye, look who's home!" She yelled as soon as she entered. The dog could be heard walking down the wood-floored hallway and his head peeked around the corner. His tail began to wag and he barked happily before wobbling towards the entrance to greet his master. The dog barked at Aaron's feet, wanting to be scratched.

"Hey boy, did ya' miss me?"

The dog barked and rolled onto its back, still wanting to be fondled. Aaron made no move to bend down and grant the dog's wish and his sister looked at him strangely.

"I don't want to touch him." He stated simply with a shrug.

"Oh," She bent down in Aaron's stead and rubbed Popeye's belly as Aaron walked past the two and into the living room. Elizabeth left Popeye and hurried to Aaron's side. She handed him the remote as he sat down and surrounded him with pillows as he sat patiently, flipping through the channels and letting his sister mother over him.

"There, are you comfortable?" She asked after she had pushed couch pillows behind his head, on each side, like arm rests, and pulled the coffee table closer for a foot prop.

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure? I can go get you more pillows." She questioned further.

"I'm fine." Aaron repeated.

"Oh, okay." Elizabeth said and she settled herself beside him and joined him in watching TV. The silence did not last long though, "Are you hungry? Because if you are I can get you something to eat, and some water too, if you want."

"You know what, I think I'm going to go help Mom cook supper. Would you tell me when the next show starts?"

She smiled and nodded as she turned back to the TV and Aaron walked into the kitchen where his mom was starting to prepare supper. Aaron took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair as he leaned against a counter next to where his mom was chopping vegetables. She smiled as him, "Elizabeth is just trying to help and make you more at home."

"Yeah, I know, but she can be a bit…much at times." He replied as he picked up the spoon and stirred the vegetable that were being sautéed in the skillet.

They were quiet while his mother finished chopping the tomatoes and lettuce and Aaron played around with the onions and mushrooms in the frying pan. She washed her hands and joined him back at the stove as she dried her hands on a towel. "I know you've been asked a lot, but how are you really?"

He shrugged, "Fine, I guess. It all seems surreal, I mean that fact that I actually died and all."

His mother nodded with her lips pursed and eyebrows knit together in a frown. An uneasy silence filled the room, accompanied only by the sizzling of the sautéed food and the sound of the TV in the next room.

"So," Aaron prompted, "what are we making next?"

"Well," his mother threw the towel to the counter by the sink and clapped her hands, "we have to make some hamburger patties and then I was going to make some macaroni and cheese to go with the cheeseburgers. What do you think?"

"Sounds like a plan. I'll make the Mac-and-cheese." He said as he walked to the pantry and pulled out a box of his favorite Three Cheese Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. It was his absolute favorite food and he made it almost daily. After nearly two weeks without it, he had begun to go into withdrawal and inwardly thanked his mom profusely for planning it into the night's supper.

Aaron and his mother made the Mac-and-cheese and the hamburger patties, respectively, talking about various things while they worked. He finished boiling the noodles and strained them in the sink. After pouring in the cheese packet, adding four tablespoons of butter and a tad of milk he stirred it all together and reached for the salt and pepper. At the same time, his mother had just finished cooking the hamburgers and had reached for the same salt and pepper shaker.

In his peripheral vision Aaron saw his mom reach for the salt and pepper at the same time as he. His mind went blank as he imagined what might happen if he accidentally touched her hand �" his mother would die and his father and sister would be very depressed and would blame him for her death, rightly so. He would not be able to handle the guilt of killing his mother along with all the others that he would eventually kill. He pulled himself out of his thoughts, determined not to let any of it happen. His hand was nearly touching hers but he jerked his hand back and stumbled backwards, holding his hand to his chest as if it might jump forward and touch his mother of its own accord. His heart beat quickly and his breathing was loud as his mother stopped, realizing the almost-mistake she had made. She looked over to her son, her expression worried and hurt.

"Oh, Aaron, I'm sorry, did I touch you?"

He stared at her and, unable to form words, quickly shook his head. 'No, if I had touched you, you wouldn't be alive right now. That was way too close though, I need to get something to cover my hands.'

She continued looking at him and he stumble to form words, "I �" I almost…you…" He clamped his mouth shut and thought to himself, 'She isn't taking this seriously. It's like she thinks I'm playing a game or something.'

"Aaron! Aaron, the next show is starting!" Elizabeth yelled from the other room.

"I �" I'm going to go." Aaron spoke quietly as he inched past his mother, staying as far away as possible, and entered the living room, joining Elizabeth on the couch.

Aaron's mother watched him the whole way while he left. She wondered if his phobia (for lack of better words) would be something that the family would have to adjust to or if it would soon pass. If not, the family, she included, would have some major modifications and changes to make.