Interrupted Read Free

notebook shut and laid back on the grass, listening to my heart beat until everything around me was nearly dark. Then I stumbled back home and tucked myself into bed.

Chapter 2
    New feet within my garden go
,
    New fingers stir the sod;
    A troubadour upon the elm
    Betrays the solitude
.
    — Emily Dickinson
    I t was a scream that woke me. I jolted up in bed, my senses pulsing.
What was that?
    There it was again — a bloodcurdling shriek. “Get away from me!”
    Mama!
I jumped out of bed and threw open the door, running down the hall. I burst into Mama’s doorway and stood, chest heaving.
    Mama was standing on her bed, her eyes wide with fright. “Get it!” she cried. “Oh, Allie, take it away!”
    I looked around the room and blinked. Nothing. “Get what?” I finally asked.
    “The bird!” Mama shrieked, hurling her pillow at the vanity. “The snake! Oh, Allie, it must have gotten in through the window!”
    I looked at the window. It was closed.
    With an eye on Mama, I inched toward the vanity. Mama’s hair stood up like a madwoman, her face as pale as her nightgown.
    I picked up the pillow she had thrown and scooped up the broken shards of glass. “Oh no,” I muttered. A perfume bottle had broken. Liquid ran down the dresser, staining the pure white wood.
    “Is it gone?”
    “Yes, Mama.” I threw the glass shards into the wastebasket. My breath caught and I glanced down to see blood trickling down my finger. I pressed it in my pajamas and bit my lip. “It went away. Back out the window.”
    “Is it coming back?”
    I turned and looked at my mother. The terror and anger had left from her face, and now she stood on the bed, shaking. Her tangled hair fell across her face as she dropped the pillow she’d been clinging to. Then, without a word, she collapsed on her knees and broke into tears.
    I rushed across the room and put my arm around her, rocking her back and forth. “It’s okay, Mama,” I whispered into her hair. “It’s okay.”
    “Its eyes were so cold, Allie,” Mama sobbed into my lap. “They were staring right at me.”
    “I know.” I stared at the empty vanity, illuminated by moonlight. “It’s gone now.”
    “Allie?” Mama whimpered.
    “Yes?”
    She looked up at me with bloodshot eyes and gripped my hand. “Will you stay with me tonight?”
    I gulped down the lump in my throat and nodded. “Of course, Mama. I’ll stay.”
    I stroked Mama’s hair and sang to her softly until she fell asleep. Tears stung behind my eyes, threatening to overflow.
    I buried my face in the pillow. No one else knew. No one else would ever know. I was all Mama needed.
    In the morning, she’d forget all about the snake. She always did. Maybe she’d have a good day again and she’d be able to laugh and chat.
    Or maybe she’d have a bad day.
    No, I couldn’t think about that. There would be no more bad days. As long as I stayed with her, Mama would get better.
    Help her remember
, the doctor said. Read her favorite books. Sing her favorite songs.
    I’d done it. I’d read the books. I’d sung the songs. And she still wasn’t better.
    I clenched my fists and stuck one in my mouth to stop the tears.
    “Allie?” Mama whispered.
    “Yes, ma’am?” I wiped my nose on my sleeve.
    “I’m thirsty.”
    I kicked my feet out of bed and went downstairs to get her some milk from the icebox. By the time I got back, she was asleep again.
    I crawled into bed beside her and cried until my eyes couldn’t stay open anymore.
    “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Allie! Happy birthday to you!”
    Mama clapped while I blew out the fourteen candles on my little white cake. The living room was decorated with a few balloons I’d blown up and some old pieces of fabric tied to the staircase like streamers. Mama scooped me into a hug and left the dining room, muttering about a cake carver.
    I was left alone, staring at the smoking candles. Fourteen years, come and gone. My mouth twitched