My Neighbor, Mr. Rogers

Chapter Two - My Hero

"Oh, boy. Ohboyohboyohboy. I can do this." I huff an agitated breath. "It's totally not gross. It doesn't bother me at all! Nah. It'll be the easiest thing in the world. I just have to, um, go back into my apartment and face the situation like a man- er, woman. I'm a strong woman and I can handle this. I won't bring shame upon womankind with this stupid phobia." My words spill out of my mouth faster and faster as I pace the hallway just outside of my door. "Be brave. Be brave. Be br-," my chanting is cut short by the creak of the door opening behind me.

"You okay, Anne?"

'French fried onions!'

I turn slowly, direly wishing to be in any other state at this precise moment. I'd even take a different state of mind.

"Heidi-ho there, neighbor! Of course I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be okay?" I laugh nervously. "Don't I look okay? I'm totally okay. Yep, very much 'A-OK'. I'm even thinking of making it my new nickname. Not that I have a current or old nickname. Unless you count 'Anne' as a nickname, but I don't because, well, it's my actual name. Anyway, I'm okay. Just, you know, getting some air."

"In the hallway?" He didn't miss a beat.

I clear my throat and make a sound of agreement. "Mhmm. I'm just gonna go back in my apartment now." I turn back to face my door. "Yep, just gonna open that door and walk on in." My feet don't move. "Any second now I'll be making my way through the door." Nope.

"Is something wrong?" Steve sounds genuinely concerned for me. This only makes things worse.

I hang my head, slightly shaking it in embarrassment.

"Something's obviously bothering you."

A comforting hand drops on my shoulder and I twist a bit to face him. His eyes are kind and sincere. I shift my weight. "Promise not to laugh..."

He doesn't even hesitate. "Of course I won't laugh."

I sigh in defeat, staring at his bare feet. "It's a spider."

A short pause rests between us.

"What?"

My hands come up and cover my face as I let out a groan. "A spider. I trapped it under a cup, but now I don't know what to do with it. It's really big and gross and its legs are freaky and I can't step on it 'cause that horrible crunch is just too much and I obviously can't just let it be loose in my apartment 'cause it's what nightmares are made of and I don't think my windows have opened since the eighties so I can't put it outside and I thought about flushing it down the toilet but what if it can swim and it just crawls back out or worse, what if it can't swim and it slowly drowns to death in toilet water and that's just a terrible way to die and-" I stop myself, gasping a bit for air.

Steve takes the moment to speak. "Would you like me to take care of it?"

My eyes dart up to his.

'Is he serious? He would do that for me? He probably is just annoyed by your pacing and wants to shut you up.' But somehow I don't think this is the reason.

"I-, would you mind?" I ask in a small voice.

I'm met with another of his kind smiles. "Of course I wouldn't mind."

"Then yes, please!" I grab his hand that's still on my shoulder and yank him towards my apartment. Caught off guard, he doesn't budge an inch and I stumble backwards in the recoil. This guy is solid.

"Sorry," he quickly apologizes and moves to my door. I open it for him, but there's no way I'm going inside while it's still in there.

"It's just past the first bookcase, under that upside-down Beauty and the Beast mug." I point with one hand and, in my desperation, push him a little with my other. "I don't want to know what you do with it, just please don't let it loose in my apartment!" I call after him before scrunching my eyes shut and putting my fingers in my ears.

After what feels like approximately an eternity, I feel a gentle brush against my arm. I look up to see Steve holding out my mug.

'I'm going to need to boil that in acid for about five days before I can even think of using it again.'

"Thank you so much!" I jump up a little to throw my arms around his neck for a quick hug, my brain being completely useless in my relief.

'He smells like apple pie.'

Steve stands there; frozen like Anna. I immediately rip myself away as my brain finally decides to make an appearance.

'Could you be any more embarrassing?! No, you'll find that the answer is a resounding "no"!'

Staring wide-eyed at the carpeted floor between us, I scramble for words, anything to make this less humiliating.

"I-I kind of have an uncontrollable, knee-jerk reaction to things with more than four legs being in my immediate proximity." When I was seven, this jerk, Tommy, held me down and put a daddy long leg on my face. I still have nightmares about it. "When I lived at home, my mom would take care of them and when I moved out for college I had a roommate who wasn't afraid of anything." I shifted uncomfortably, trying to hide behind my curtain of auburn hair. "Thank you again, so much, for helping me. You really didn't have to. And I'm sorry to have bothered you."

'There. That covered all the bases: an explanation, gratitude, and an apology. Now, go hide in your room.'

I reach out and grip the handle of the mug that he's still holding out to me, but he doesn't let go. Instead, he moves to hold onto my hand with his empty hand. When he doesn't make any motion to move, I look up at him in confusion.

Steve's clear blue eyes have softened, though they were never hard to start with, and he smiles gently at me. "Anne, everyone's afraid of something and I think most people are afraid of spiders. Besides, I was happy to do it. If you ever need help again, just let me know." His words are warm and bright and comforting.

'Ugh. How is he so perfect while I'm stuck as this fuzzy gerbil of emotion?'

I can't help but to smile a little back at him. He just makes me feel so comfortable, effortlessly so, and trust me when I say that's no small thing. "Thank you, Steve."

He nods and lets the mug and my hand go. "Have a good day, ma'am," he says as he moves back to his apartment.

"You too, Steve," I reply with a grin as I retreat to my room.

'Is that just his standard goodbye? What's with the "ma'am"? I thought that was a southern or military thing but he certainly doesn't sound southern. Was he in the military? He's just so...pretty. But that would explain the muscles. Well, mostly.'