Free Or Not to Be by Laura Lanni Page A

is
kicking my butt. How will I survive life after it? I don’t see how I’m going to
get through all of this without you for backup.
    Bethany flips
through the daily pages of my October, the last full month of my life. Mom, I only saw you once last month. I wish I could’ve
come home from school. You didn’t answer most days when I called. I didn’t know
what was going on with you. She’s crying a little now, wiping her eyes on the
corner of the blanket. She leans back on the swing and closes her eyes, hot
tears leaking out. Mom, I’m not
ready to do this alone. Daddy is a mess. Right now he’s pretty useless. I’m
totally running the show around here and I’m just not qualified for the job.
I’m going to have to go back to the dorm and my classes sometime, but how can I
leave them?
    Oh,
honey. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you the last couple of months.
    I
couldn’t face anyone or even cope with daily conversation while I was crushed
by my fear that Eddie was going to leave for work one day and not come home. I
was so consumed with my own agony, I could hardly breathe.
    What
would I do if he left me? If I held my breath and stayed quiet, would the funk
pass again? Would he come back to me again? What would it do to our kids if we
split up?
    If
I’d known I had only until early November to see them all, I would have found
more time.
    | | | |
    On Thursday, November tenth , Bethany called my cell phone during the school day.
I had it set to vibrate so I was startled by the buzzing sound, and then every
single one of my students looked up from their tests to watch it wiggle across
my desk.
    “Sorry,” I whispered as I hit the red
button for silence.
    After class, I listened to Bethany’s
message. “Mom, sorry to call at work. I know you ’ re busy with school , but I really miss you. College is hard. I haven’t made any friends in the
honors dorm. I don’t know why I let you talk me into living here with all of
these geeks. All they do is study! Heh heh, well, yeah, so do I.
    “Anyway, I have two free tickets to the
football game this Saturday. Will you come? I know you and Daddy can’t both
come, but I hoped you could drive up for the day. I feel like a baby asking. I
know Daddy would just say yes and show up, but you’re the one I want. Now I sound
like I’m seven. You know I’m bad at asking for attention. I’m actually glad to
be leaving a message. Okay. Well. Call me back. Love you.”
    When I called back, she let it go to her
voice mail. That’s my girl: the queen of avoidance, trained by her own mother.
I left a message. “Hey, Bethany, I’d love to watch football with you this
weekend. Maybe after the game you can come home with me and stay over Saturday
night. Joey and Daddy would love to see you. We can sleep in on Sunday and then
I’ll make you all a big breakfast. Thanks for asking. I miss you and love you.
’Bye, honey.”
    Now it is Saturday, November twelfth.
Bethany isn’t at her football game. I’m not there with her. Nobody is where
they’re supposed to be.
    Bethany studies
the full calendars in my planner, and then rifles through the empty pages of
the months to come. I think I
need a planner now. Despite her tears, she picks up the pen and writes in the days she has
exams and papers due in November.
    | | | |
    On the morning of college move-in day last August,
I woke Joey before dawn and carried his dense little body to the van. Bethany
and Eddie were almost finished loading all her clothes and books into the back.
Though it was early, Bethany wore full makeup and had curled the stubby
ponytail of her half-grown-out hair. The makeup contrasting with the ponytail
pulled on my heart. She was trying so hard to be grown up, yet she was still
our little girl. I caught Eddie’s eye.
    “After
I fill up the coffee thermos, we’ll be all set,” he said. “Bethany, will you
wait out here with Joey?” He grabbed my hand as he rounded the side of the van
and pulled me back into