Too Small To Be Afraid

Chapter 1

A sheet of gray blankets the sky above, blocking out even the smallest ray of sunshine. Having come from the undercity, a gray ceiling is all too familiar to me. I'm not so thrilled that the sky isn't as cheery as I had hoped it would be, but I guess a cheery sky wouldn't exactly be fitting for Dad and I today.

Dad knows where he's going. He keeps stopping to reminisce about the "good old days," before I came around, back when he and my mom met at this school.

"See this?" Dad points to the same worn, wooden bench he points out to me every year. "Your mom and I had our first study date here." He stops for a moment and laughs to himself. "Our first date, actually... I was so nervous that I made myself late. She was packing up to go when I got here," he says, turning to me with a smile. "Good thing she didn't stay mad for long."

Dad looks the bench over and heaves a sigh. After a moment, we continue walking. Somewhere behind me, footsteps louder than I'm used to hearing pound the ground. I snap my head down, shifting my attention to the bouquet of pansies in my hands. Must I constantly be reminded why I can't stand being above ground?

I glance quickly behind me. While the source of the footsteps is nowhere to be seen, what is perhaps the largest glass door I've ever laid eyes on slowly begins to close a few hundred feet away. I glue my eyes back to the pansies as the sight grips my gut. Why did I do that? Why did I have to look back?

"This is it!" Dad's words catch me by surprise and bring me back to the present. "This is the spot. She would read and study here all the time." He pats the stone planter as he looks beside it. "Right here, on the floor against the building and this bench. Almost like she was hiding." He puts his pansies on Mom's designated spot, and I follow suit.

I look back to Dad, his hand covering his mouth and his brows furrowed in thought. He crouches down closer to the ground, another sigh escaping him. I can only imagine what could be going through his mind right now.

Our annual trip to Maedri Northwest University has long-since been ingrained into my mind as routine. This is the part where, when I was little, I'd crouch down right next to Dad. He'd pull me in for a hug, and we'd talk about Mom. This time, for whatever reason, is different. Dad looks up at me as I remain in place, neither of us uttering a word.

"Your mom wanted a garden full of these things," Dad says, breaking the silence. He stands up and gestures to the flowers we bought. "Can't really grow a garden in an apartment, but that never stopped her from trying."

I stuff my chilly hands in my jacket pockets and nod along to Dad's ramblings. He goes on for a while, retelling the same stories he tells me every year. How it took a while before my mom would even give him a second glance, how she always had her nose in a book, how he tried to get her to go to parties with him... He runs his hands through his hair, a few shades lighter than my red hair. What would I call that, exactly? Coral, maybe?

"Aren't you going to say anything?" he asks, reigning in my focus. Shoot, how long has he been staring at me?

"I, um," I start, not that I have anywhere to go. "I don't really have anything."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." I pause, letting my mind go to the past. It's as if I've been grasping at straws these past few years when it comes to memories of Mom. She died when I was only six, and the older I get, the more I'm finding that my memories of her are becoming fewer and farther between.

I shift in place. "Yeah, I don't really have anything. I think you already covered everything I could think to say."

Dad looks down, placing a hand on the back of his head. He looks back up at me. "Nothing at all?" he asks.

"Dad, it's been a really long time since..." I begin to twiddle my thumbs. "Well, you know. I was so young at the time, so I just don't remember much."

He folds his arms and gazes up at the nearly endless stack of massive white bricks making up the wall of the university, which are halted only by a black, metal awning.

"I see," he finally manages to say. "Do you want to talk about... that day?"

"What day?"

"You know," he tilts his head to the side to look back at me. "The day she died?"

"No!" I shout as blood rushes to my face. "I-I mean..." I fold my arms as my eyes turn to the floor. "I'd rather not go there. Besides, I'm not even sure if I remember it, and I don't really want to find out."

"It's okay," Dad says, turning to face me and pushing up his glasses. "It was just a suggestion, no need to get upset."

He shoves his hands into his jean pockets and fixates on Mom's spot again. "I'm going to miss coming here," he utters under his breath.

I know this final trip has to be hard for him. Once we're settled in Chancelor, it's not likely our annual trips to Mom's resting place will continue as usual. Such a move would be drastic for pertheans, let alone humans like us. It makes me wonder why Dad wanted to leave his hometown to go to this university in the first place.

The wind picks up a bit, so I zip up my jacket and rub my arms in an attempt to relieve myself of the chill. I guess I underestimated how cold it was going to be above ground this time of year. With spring having started over New Year's, I thought it would be warmer up here. As frigid as it is, though, I want to make sure Dad has all the time he needs here. I'm only here for his sake.

A pitter patter somewhere around us catches my attention. With hesitation, I look above to the awning, which seems to be the source of the noise. It sounds like something is up there, perhaps a flock of birds wandering around? I turn to look around at the park surrounding the university. The area is being pelted by water droplets as numerous as the blades of grass on the ground, and an earthy scent begins to fill the moistening air. I've seen rain before in movies, but I didn't think I'd ever get to see it for myself. The droplets are no bigger than tennis balls. I can't help but wonder if it would hurt for a human like me to stand in it. My shoulders drop as I stand utterly transfixed on the sight in front of me. Who knows if I'll ever get to see something like this again?

The enormous glass door opens again, pulling me away from this phenomenon and back into reality. My muscles tense up, and I try my hardest to focus on the sound of the rain to distract myself from the sound of yet another perthean's footsteps passing by. I turn to Dad, who is crouching down in front of that spot just as he had been when I looked at him last. I wrap my arms around myself. It's getting colder. It's too cold for me out here.

"Dad," I whisper. "It's raining."

Dad gets up again and turns around. "Hm, so it is." He stands there, with a hand on his chin as he looks around at the falling droplets. "You know, the sight almost makes you want to run right through it even though you'd get completely soaked." He chuckles. "I did that in high school once, and my mom didn't let me off easy for it. One or two drops was enough to do it."

We stand around for a little while longer, listening to the raindrops beat against the awning above. By now, it's freezing out here. I rub my numbing arms as if to start a fire. Man, I should have brought something warmer than this paper-thin jacket.

Dad looks down. "Well, I guess we should finish packing up."

I nod. We turn around, and Dad runs his fingers along the stone planter one last time. He sniffles as one of his arms shoots up to rub his eyes. His gaze returns to the pansies. "I just wish you could have known her," he whispers.

He wraps one arm around me, and we start on our way back to the undercity.