When I'm Gone

The car was silent.

Only two sets of breathing remained, one heavy, one shallow.

Mom froze. "What do you mean?"

Dad's voice was very soft. By the end, it shook with tears. "Exactly what you think it means. Caleb is dead.

"The medical examiner said he was struck by a freight truck and died at the scene. What's inside this box is his ashes."

Mom's expression changed.

I drifted toward her and reached out, wanting to touch her hair the way she used to comfort me.

But the next second, I heard her snap angrily, "Enough!

"Daniel, it was wrong of me to lie to you for six years, but you don't need to make up something like this to get back at me!

"There aren't many cars at a highway rest stop, and traffic moves slowly there. How could Caleb possibly have died on the spot? If you're going to lie, at least use your brain!"

I floated around her anxiously, trying to tell her Dad was not lying. It was true.

The driver of the freight truck never saw me. The wheels rolled over my little body.

I did not even have time to feel much pain. Everything went black, and when I opened my eyes again, I had already become a ghost floating beside Dad.

But no matter how hard I tried to speak, Mom could not hear me.

Maybe Dad had remembered the condition I was in when I died, because his face turned white as paper.

Mom glanced at him, sighed, and softened her tone a little. "I'm sorry, Daniel. Don't blame me.

"I didn't mean to punish you for so long, but I didn't expect you to be that foolish. I deliberately left you so many clues, and you still never saw through it.

"Like the time Caleb was sick. I left him home alone and almost let the fever damage his brain. You thought my depression had flared up and I had gone out to clear my head, and you even worried about me.

"The truth is, Adrian's dog was sick. I went with him to the vet."

I suddenly went still and stared at Mom.

That had happened last month.

My fever had made my whole body ache. I thought I was going to die and wanted Mom to take me to the hospital, but I searched the whole house and could not find her.

In the end, I could only force myself to call Dad while he was still at work.

When Dad rushed home, he carried me to a small clinic.

As I lay there on an IV, he pressed his cold cheek to my forehead and said through tears, "Caleb, don't blame Mom.

"Mom is sick. She can't control it."

I believed him.

But now Mom said it was all fake.

My eyes began to burn too. Mom blurred in my vision.

Dad's throat seemed blocked by something invisible.

After a long silence, he finally found his voice and asked, trembling, "Meredith, how can you be this cruel? Caleb is your child!"

Mom raised an eyebrow. "He still had you, didn't he?

"Daniel, I know you and Caleb suffered a lot these past three years. Don't worry. From now on, I'll truly make it up to both of you."

I shook my head a little.

Mom, there is no 'from now on.' Caleb is already dead.

But even if I were still alive, she probably would not really make anything up to me.

She did not like Caleb.

I understood that the moment the truck crushed me and I desperately reached toward the direction she had driven away, while she never once looked back.

In her heart, Caleb mattered less than Adrian's dog.

Maybe it was because I had become a ghost, but I suddenly felt so cold that I shivered.

I carefully curled myself into Dad's arms.

His back was perfectly straight. His embrace was warm, but his voice was as cold as my transparent body.

He said, "Meredith.

"I want a divorce."