Batophobia

I look into the mirror. A pale face stares back at me, constantly whispering. Red lips stand out on snow white skin. I smile, whispering, “I am the princess that rules the seven dwarfs. They serve me, along with my other subjects.” I pull on a long sleeve blue shirt, slightly too big for me. I live in a one-story house, with awfully short ceilings. I am more similar to a dwarf then those in my fantasies. Today is one of my two no-school days. These are my favorite days of the week. School is mean to me. So are the people that go to school. They call me a freak, but I know that it is not me they are laughing at. It is my mind and my fear. “Batophobia,” I whisper. “Batophobia,” I say, louder this time. I say the dreaded word over and over, my voice in a constant crescendo. “BATOPHOBIA,” I scream, clutching my head and rubbing my temples. An image of the building through the board-covered window starts to appear through my mind. “No,” I shout, blocking out the image, “it will not be in my head. My mind is blank. My brain is a sheet of paper.” I pull on my jeans, doing a little hoppy dance so they come up over my hips. “Miriam J. is a good girl. She will fight her fear. She is strong.” I whisper to myself as I put on my favorite lipstick. I deserve to wear this lipstick. I prevented my panic attack. Now I wait for Maggie. I don’t have to wait long, for soon Maggie bursts through the door, shouting, “Mimi! Maggie has a surprise for you! Come out, come out wherever you are!” She treats me as a child. I run to her and babble, “I get to wear my lipstick because there were no buildings in my mind! My brain is a blank sheet of paper!” Maggie smiles at me tenderly. Maggie is my sister, but she is superior to me. She is not afraid. I am afraid at every corner, worried that I will see the buildings. I beam at her, saying, “What is the surprise Maggie?” Normally I don’t like surprises, but Maggie’s surprises are always good. “There’s someone who wants to talk to you, Mimi. This man doesn’t have buildings in his mind either. Miriam, he can help you. Dr. Edwards can heal you!” I don’t understand. Tears are running down Maggie’s face. I start crying, yelling, “Don’t cry, Maggie! Don’t cry I’ll go to Dr. Edwards and I will be better and then you won’t cry anymore!” I hug Maggie with all my might. She sniffs and says, “Don’t worry Mimi, I’m crying with happiness. Tears of joy, you know.” I smile up at her. She kisses my nose and says, “Get your boots on! We’re going shopping!” I squeal with glee and run around, getting my shopping gear together. Maggie knows everything about me. Sometimes I don’t even have to tell her. If I have a panic attack, she comes. I’ve read about animals who know when their owner is in danger. Maybe Maggie is my guard dog… Or maybe Maggie is a guardian angel. I look up at her and say, “Maggie, are you my guardian angel?” She laughs, “No I’m your sister. That’s about as close as I’m going to get to being a guardian angel.” I ponder her remark. “Are you a guard dog?” I ask her. She laughs so hard that tears come out of eyes. I hope they are joyous tears. Sad tears make me think of buildings. I gasp as the feeling I got when I stood on top of the tall building floods into my mind. I see the ground, so far away, with little ant-like people and tiny police cars. Maggie is there, on the roof with me…

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“Miriam, get away from the edge of the roof,” Maggie warns me. I stare at her with solemn eyes. “I can’t do this anymore,” I say as tears fill my eyes. Sad tears. I close my eyes. The muscles in my legs bunch up as I prepare to do the unspeakable. I can imagine throwing myself off of the roof, ending the stress of my mother’s sickness that makes her look like a skeleton. She has cancer. That single sentence swims laps through my soupy, mixed up mind. She has cancer. She has cancer. She has cancer. I say, “I love you, Maggie,” and jump. Strong arms wrap around my mid-section and pull me roughly back onto the roof.
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“Mimi, what’s wrong?” Maggie shakes me gently, worry blossoming in her eyes. “I love you, Maggie,” I say again. Tears fill her eyes at the corners, making them shine like diamonds. She knows exactly what just happened. It happens almost every time I think of buildings. I hate buildings.