She poked her finger into his chest. "Matthew, my friend, you need some new clothes."
"Thank you."
She looked up at him dizzily. "Do you have one geeky shirt for every day of the week?"
"More than that. Don't worry."
"I am flooded with relief."
"Are you OK now?"
"Oh." Julie realized she was still slouched into him. "Yes. I'm... I'm perfectly OK. Brilliant." She dropped her hands from his chest and took a step back. There. She could see normally, and her knees were no longer comprised solely of gelatin. "Sorry about that. Let's go get our train."
Matt looked at her skeptically. "If you're sure."
"Yeah. I'm fine. See?" She jumped up and down. "All motor function has been restored. Physiological integrity is intact. I can now continue not finding an apartment."
"You're very goofy."
The underground platform area was cool and helped Julie feel human again. The downside of which was that she could now fully appreciate how embarrassing her near-fainting spell was. She was very good about avoiding situations that brought on an attack, but she hadn't been able to see that damn escalator through all the T riders.
They only had to wait a few minutes before the next train screeched to a piercing halt. She and Matt stepped onto the train and sat down in seats that faced the center of the car. Julie crossed her legs and tried to appear as composed as one could after such an incident.
She tucked her hair behind her ears. "So, now you know that I don't like escalators. Or elevators, I imagine, although I haven't been on one in years. Maybe I've improved. It makes me fall apart. I call it moving height freak-out syndrome."
"That doesn't make any sense," Matt informed her. "You're acrophobic, which is one of the space and motion phobias. You have an irrational fear of heights that results in severe discomfort. And you didn't exactly freak out. You probably experienced dizziness and some panic, right?"
"Thank you for ruining my attempt to bring levity to my traumatic event." Julie managed not to glower, although it took some effort.
"I'm not ruining your attempt at levity, but you should come up with a name that is factually accurate." Matt stood up and grabbed a metal bar that ran above his head, swaying with the movement of the train.
"I can come up with whatever the hell name I want to. It's my syndrome, so I get to name it."
"Well, it's not really your syndrome considering that other people - "
"Oh my God!" Julie pleaded. "Can we not argue about what this mortifying thing is called?"
"We're not arguing. We're discussing. And you shouldn't be mortified. It's really not that uncommon."
"I don't care if it's common or not, I have the right to be mortified if I want to."
"Of course you have the right. I'm just telling you that if your feeling of mortification is based on the belief that this is an unusual pathology, then statistically speaking, you have no reason to." He was more animated now than Julie had seen him before, color coming into his cheeks and his murky gray eyes actually shining. "You can take comfort in being part of a community. If you look at the percentage of people with any phobia at all, then you've got substantial company."
"So now I'm pathological?" Julie clenched her hands. Good Lord, Matt was exasperating, particularly because he had an annoying grin plastered on his face and seemed to delight way too much in being difficult. Great. She finally had the annoying brother she'd never wanted.
"No, you're not pathological, but acrophobia is pathological in the sense that your reaction to heights deviates from the norm."
"Why do you have to correct everything I say?" Julie glanced at his FTW! shirt. "Out of the two of us, I don't think I'm the one that deviates from the norm." The train slammed to a stop. "You're the one who seems to get off arguing."
"You sound exactly like Finn. We're exchanging ideas. Debating." Matt looked down at his shorts. "And so far I haven't gotten off."
"Don't be rude. Then let's call it a draw, and we'll agree to disagree. Come on. I don't suppose I can get a Coolatta around here? I need caffeine if I'm going to regroup and find an apartment today." Julie stepped onto the platform with Matt close behind her.
"Watch it," he warned. "Make sure you get on the stairs here. This station also has a really steep escalator."
They took the stairs and emerged in the center of Harvard Square. Matt directed her to a community board where people had pinned information about everything from bands and jobs to lecture series and free film nights. Julie liked it here, where a diverse crowd could make anybody feel comfortable: Students, professors, parents with toddlers, and punked-out teens skipping school all crowded the brick sidewalks. Groups of people were clustered on concrete steps; musicians were playing instruments and singing James Taylor songs; and a puppeteer across the street was making elaborate marionettes dance while little kids laughed. Even the man in a floral dress on roller blades who was shouting a profane version of The Declaration of Independence seemed to fit in. There was an energy here that she found enthralling.
"What about this one?" Matt pointed to a flyer advertising a one-bedroom apartment.
"First of all, I can't afford that. Second of all, this ad looks really old. All the phone number tabs have been torn off."
"You never know. Maybe they had a slew of undesirables and lowered the price hoping someone normal will call. I bet the last applicant was a wealthy but deranged middle-aged clown who tried to juggle the roommates."