Be Not Afraid Read Online Free PDF

reaching their full bloom potential. But it belonged there, in the dirt instead of inside an old, dusty box. In the soil at least, it could die a dignified death. I stood back up, regarding the remaining bulbs that I knew would never grow. And then I reached downand grabbed a handful. One by one I hurled them into the wooded thicket beyond, listening to the soft plunk they made as they hit the ground.
    Over and over and over again, until every last one was gone.

Three
    A little over a year ago, back in Maine, I had run home from my friend Janine’s house, something gnawing at me inside, tapping me on the shoulder:
Go, go faster, move, MOVE.
My pace had increased with each step until I was running so hard that I couldn’t breathe without feeling pain. Dad’s earlier instructions echoed in my head, his simple request keeping time with the smack of my sneakers against the pavement:
Just stick around with Mom for the afternoon, okay, honey? I’ll be home early.
Except that I hadn’t stuck around. When Janine had called at two o’clock, squealing about the new CD she’d just bought, the one I absolutely had to come over and listen to, I’d gone. Janine and I were good friends, but I probably spent more time at her house than I needed to. For as much fun as we had together, the real truth was that I jumped at any excuse to get out ofthe house, especially when Mom started spending whole afternoons in bed or not getting out of bed at all. Janine’s mother was having an affair with her boss, so Janine understood the whole concept of crazy moms. Sort of.
    I’d knocked on Mom’s door first, pressing my lips against the cool wood in case she couldn’t hear me. I hadn’t seen her since the night before, when I’d poked my head in to say good night. “Mom?” No answer. “Mom?” I’d said again, louder that time.
    “Hmmm?” The sleepiness in her voice was unmistakable. But that was because all she did those days was sleep; it was all she ever seemed to do anymore. A flare of annoyance had risen inside me. She’d done this exact thing last year, just after Christmas, and then snapped out of it a few months later when it came time to plant her bulbs. It was so unfair. Why did
I
have to be forced to hang around the house doing nothing all day, just because
she
wanted to waste her time sleeping? I had friends to see, places to go, music to hear!
    “Mom,” I said again. “Janine called. I’m gonna go over and hang out for a little bit. I’ll be back soon.”
    Through the door, I heard the rustle of sheets, the sound of a body shifting. “Where are you going?” Her voice was hoarse, as if she’d been crying. Or screaming.
    “Janine’s!” I said again, impatient this time. “Dad’s at work, and I’m going to Janine’s house. But I’ll be back soon.” I paused. “Okay?”
    “Okay, honey.” She sounded frightened. Or had I imagined that?
    I headed for the stairs. But a muffled sound coming from behind the door stopped me. I went back. “Mom? Did you say something?”
    There was a pause. Then: “I love you, Marin.” The frightened tone was gone, replaced with something I did not recognize.
    “I love you, too, Mom.” I rolled my eyes. She was always so dramatic. Everything was always so end-of-the-world-like. Even leaving for school every morning was an ordeal; she’d always rush over just as I stepped through the door, grab me around the wrist, and say, “Goodbye, sweetheart,” as if she’d never see me again. It was weird. And annoying. I was going a little more than a quarter mile down the road now; it was hardly anything to start getting theatrical about. “Okay, bye!”
    Janine and I were on the sixth song when the gnawing sensation in my belly reached a fever pitch. I sat up as the hairs on the back of my neck began to prickle. “I’m sorry,” I said. “But I have to go. I’ll call you later.” I made it home in less than five minutes, a record. My eyes raced over the inside of the house