Phobia

Part 1

	My heart was in my throat as I raced home. My mission for the 
day, the only thing I could think of all day at school, was to 
dispose of the evidence before my mom could find it. My panic was 
only heightened as I peddled up to the house and saw her car in 
the driveway.
	"Damn!" I muttered to my self "Why did she have to come home 
early today?" I briefly considered that maybe this was inevitable, 
but I brushed that thought aside. I was resolved to keep this a 
secret. This wasn't the first time I'd done this, I could pull it 
off. It was just a slight increase in the level of difficulty, no 
big deal.
	I opened the front door quietly. I didn't want to attract 
attention. Just get the goods, and cover everything up before she 
even knows I'm here. I tip-toed across the living room. It felt 
like an agonizing crawl, but I'm certain I was moving as quickly 
as could with out making a noise. Well that was the idea anyway.
	"John is that you?" she called.
	Damn, busted! I'd need to delay. I'd need to wait for her to 
be distracted to make my move, maybe even wait till tomorrow. But 
every second increased the chance of discovery. My heart sank 
right from my throat to my stomach.
	"Yes mom," I replied, trying to sound as if everything was 
normal.
	"Well come in here let me see you."
	Now things couldn't get any worse. How could I possibly play 
it cool when I felt nothing but panic? I walked into the kitchen 
where my mom was sitting at the table reading the paper.
	"So how was your day?" she asked.
	It was a normal question. She asked that every day, even 
though the answer was always the same.
	"Fine," I replied.
	"Are you sure there was nothing that you want to tell me 
about?" she asked raising an eyebrow.
	I tried desperately to contain my panic. Should I tell her? 
Does she know? I decided to keep going, she did this sometimes. 
She'd search for a more specific answer. Most days there wasn't 
one. But that day, I just wanted that day to end as quickly 
possible.
	"No," I answered my voice wavering slightly.
	"That's interesting. Because I was cleaning your room and I 
found this," she said as she held up my soaked pajamas. She'd had 
found them, and here I was caught in my very obvious attempt at 
deception. They were a pair of race car PJs. I was 13 but my mom 
insisted on my wearing kid's PJs to bed lest I think I was too 
grown up. And if it wasn't bad enough that they were decorated 
with little cars they had been thoroughly soaked by my babyish 
accident. There was a large wet spot in the front that ran down 
the right leg.
	"Can you tell me what happened?" she asked.
	Tears of shame began to well up in my eyes, I looked down at 
the ground and stammered, "I don't know."
	"Did you know you had to go potty?" she asked.
	Now I knew I'd have to admit it. I tried to hold it because I 
was still afraid of the dark. The thought of getting out of my 
nice warm bed and walking through the cold dark hallway was too 
much to bare. But my bladder was too weak to hold it and I peed my 
bed like a little baby.
	I started to lie and say "no" but it stuck in my throat.
	"Yes," I finally admitted. I could feel tears begin to well 
up in my eyes. This was incredibly embarrassing. Here I was a 
teenager having to explain that my little PJs were soaked because 
I was afraid of the dark.
	I expected my mom to respond angrily. But instead her voice 
became gentle and calm. "Why didn't you got to he potty then?" she 
asked.
	"Because" I said beginning to sob "I was afraid of the dark."
	"That's what I thought," she said as she embraced me. I 
dropped my head onto her shoulder and began crying in earnest.
	"Are you mad?" I asked.
	"No, not really," she replied "But I really thought you too 
old for this sort of thing. I think we're going to have to try a 
new arrangement around here."
	At that moment I didn't really care what she meant by that. I 
was merely relieved to my secret off my chest without getting her 
mad at me. I don't know how I would have reacted if I had known. 
Tot his day I'm not sure what to think about it.