Never Meant to Leave

When Mommy stood in the residential playground shouting insults at me, many elderly men and women gathered around to watch the spectacle.

One older woman pointed at Mommy and began lecturing the child she was holding.

“You have to be obedient. You mustn’t learn from that kid who’s hiding and refusing to go home.”

The child in her arms sucked on her fingers and garbled, “Hungry tummy.”

“That’s right, so that woman wants to call her daughter home— ”

“Bullshit! Ask her to come home? That damn girl! I wish she’d just die!”

Mommy reacted violently, snapping back as she turned on the old woman.

The woman covered the child’s ears and replied awkwardly, “Watch your language. There are so many children here.

“With a Mommy like you, no wonder your daughter won’t come home!”

I crouched on a rusted swing as the wind nudged it gently, causing it to creak and sway.

Mommy’s face flushed bright red.

“You damn old hag, what nonsense are you spouting?”

Her shouting forced the older woman to step back half a pace, but after looking at her confused granddaughter, then at the onlookers, she still argued stubbornly, “What are you denying?

“I saw you at the supermarket last time.

“You carried your younger daughter, while you made the older one haul shopping bags taller than half her body behind you.

“Tell me—both are children. What kind of Mommy does that?”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd at her words.

“Oh—now that you mention it, I think I’ve seen them too.”

“That girl was so skinny and dark, her head always lowered. She even swayed when she walked.”

I kept my head down as I crouched on the swing, picking at my fingernails.

Because of my struggle just before death, my fingernails had peeled back one by one.

Now that I had become a ghost, the wounds remained the same, mangled flesh bruised purple and black.

They simply no longer hurt.

Mommy cared deeply about what people thought about her.

At the old woman’s words, her face flushed crimson, and her voice grew even sharper.

“What was wrong with making her carry a few things? Would helping the family kill her?

“That bag was full of snacks, things she wanted to eat. She carried her own food. What’s the problem?”

That wasn’t true.

I held my breath and kicked the swing hard.

That day, the shopping bags had been truly heavy, the handles cutting into my fingers until they turned purple.

They were filled with snacks Bella liked, the cola Mommy loved to drink, and the cigarettes Daddy smoked.

I staggered after Mommy, sweat welling up on my forehead.

Mommy held Bella in her arms.

Bella ate her ice cream until her face was smeared with it.

She turned her head with a wide smile. “Want some, Cassie?”

I licked my lips, aching with desire.

Mommy immediately turned Bella’s face away.

“Don’t bother with her. She deserves it. Who told her to fail her exam and talk back?”

When we got home, they sat on the sofa and watched cartoons.

They locked me on the balcony to reflect on my actions and rewrite my exam paper.

Waves of cramps twisted through my stomach from hunger.

In the living room, Mommy fed Bella, smiling with such tenderness.

That smile was something I had never received from her.

A thought began to grow wildly, like creeping vines.

I released my mangled, bloodied fingernails and lifted my head to look at Mommy.

She argued back and forth with the onlookers, her beautiful eyes burning as if lit by a fire that would never go out.

If Mommy knew I had died, would she regret it?

Would she cry for me?

Would she, even just once, hold me the way she held Bella?

I jumped down from the swing and drifted to her side, stretching out my hand, wanting to touch her.

As expected, my fingertips passed straight through her arm.

I pursed my lips and carefully slid my index finger into Mommy’s slightly curled palm.

It looked almost as if we were holding hands, and I couldn’t help pressing my lips together in a small smile.

Suddenly, Mommy jerked her hand away.

Of course, she couldn’t shake off my empty fingers.

It was only a gesture she made while arguing with someone else.

“That’s my daughter. I’ll discipline her however I want!

“If she wants to die outside, then let her die outside! At least I’ll have some peace and quiet!”

My hand remained frozen in that pretend hand-holding pose, hanging there alone in midair.

I stared at my invisible arm for a long while before slowly drawing it back.