In my past life, after my parents divorced, I
chose to live with my dad to lessen the burden on my mom. He remarried and had another son. I became the extra person, living in someone else’s shell, surviving on scraps of attention. It wasn’t outright abuse, but watching their happy family life, I felt like an outsider.
Dad would say, “If you don’t behave, go back to your mom. See if she can even afford to keep you.”
Melissa would say, “1 feed you, I cotine you,
What’s wrong with asking you to do a few chores around the house?”
Even my little brother, barely able to talk, would
say, “You’re not my brother. You’re a stranger.”
1
I would sneak off to see Mom. She worked at a convenience store. Her once straight back was now hunched, her bright eyes clouded. One time, I saw her talking to a stray cat, calling it by my name. “David, you haven’t visited in so long. Mommy misses you.”
One day, trying to retrieve my little brother’s
kite from a tree, I fell and hit my head. I died.
At my funeral, everyone consoled my dad.
“John, I’m so sorry for your loss. You still have
your youngest son.”
Only Mom sat silently in the corner. I wanted to
hug her, but I could only pass through her. She
looked so frail. A gust of wind on the rooftop
later, and she was gone. “Don’t worry, son,”
she whispered. “Mommy’s coming with you.”
2
I opened my eyes, back in the year of their
divorce. Mom was still caught in a fantasy. Dad
was already distant, his excuses full of holes,
but she still foolishly told me, “Honey, don’t
bother your father. He works so hard to provide
for us.”
I rolled my eyes. My mom was so naive, she
would get roasted on Reddit.
Reborn, I couldn’t fix their marriage, but I could
help her get what she deserved. I started
gathering evidence of Dad’s affair. It wasn’t
hard. He was so brazen; his phone was full of
incriminating messages and pictures. I used the
excuse of needing to do research online to
borrow his phone, and easily downloaded
く
gigabytes of data.
