Free Drawn Into Darkness by Nancy Springer Page B

than they were long, shaped like muffins, ridged like cupcake cups, crumby. To hell with Freud and penis envy; I had a lifelong case of fingernail envy, seeing so many men with absolutely perfect ones that nobody except me seemed to notice.
    Justin had great fingernails. Justin had long, strong, capable hands and I should not, could not, must not suggest any action he might take with them.
    He blurted, “Are you scared?”
    â€œHell, no. I’m too terrified to be scared. But Stoat’s not going to mess around with me, is he?”
    â€œProbably not. He’s not into torture unless he’s in a really bad mood. What I meant was, are you scared of maybe going to hell?”
    Hell? Didn’t Justin know he was already being tortured and living in hell? I very nearly laughed. A kind of snort escaped me, and Justin turned to see what was funny.
    â€œThere’s more than enough hell in life,” I explained, or tried to explain. “No, I don’t believe in heaven or hell or any kind of an afterlife.”
    â€œYou think there’s nothing after we die?”
    â€œJust the same poetry we share with any animal. We disintegrate—we mix back into the earth and nurture plants and trees, which drink sunlight and make air for our great-grandchildren. Somewhere down the line the earth, too, will die and disintegrate and maybe in zillions of years some of it will find another life. Someday some of my atoms might brighten the petal of a zinnia or the core of a nova. Everything’s recycled as energy or matter. You’re made of stardust, Justin.”
    His eyes had widened. “I never heard anything like that.”
    â€œHaven’t you? To me it makes a lot more sense than resurrection or reincarnation.” The rain pouring on the roof and slithering on the windowpanes sounded wondrous to me for a moment, cosmic. Heraclitus said that no one ever stepped into the same river twice. New rain nourished the soil or ran in rivers to the sea, returned to the sky by evaporation, gathered into clouds, and rained again, a vast symbol of—so much. Symbols by their nature cannot be fully named.
    Justin had relaxed into fascination. “Did you make all that up, or do you really believe it?”
    â€œI don’t just believe it. I
know
it. Empirically.”
    â€œRight, like I understand what that means.”
    â€œIt means from actual experience of physical fact. And here’s another thing I know empirically, Justin. I know that your mother loves you.”
    That blindsided him. He stiffened but kept staring at me.
    â€œYour mother loves you and she always will love you and she will never forget you and she will never stop searching for you.”
    He responded with anger to save him from tears. “Yeah, like you can prove that.”
    â€œI
know
it, because I’m a mom and I know what the love of a mother is like. It’s a passion for the person who came out of your own body. Nobody male can imagine the strength of it. I have two sons. I love them with all my heart and I always will. Nothing they could ever do or say could make me not love them.”
    â€œStop it.” His voice husky, Justin slid off my bed to stand up, to flee.
    â€œOkay, I’ll stop. There’s just one more thing, Justin.”
    He faced me narrow-eyed, on guard.
    â€œDoes Stoat ever tell you he loves you?”
    His face hardened. “A few times. In bed.”
    â€œHe’s a liar. What he does to you in bed is not love.”
    â€œI figured.”
    â€œYet I bet you feel something for him, don’t you? You have a big heart. It’s impossible for you to live with somebody and not get attached to him, right?”
    Justin’s rigid face contorted. “What are you trying to prove?” he yelled.
    â€œJust that you’re human.”
    â€œAnd what am I supposed to do about it?”
    â€œIf you do anything, it’s completely up to