12
I wiped my tears, asking Grandma, “Can I see
Mom again?”
く
Grandma cried.
Later, I often saw Mom.
But.
Mom was a black and white photo.
On Grandma’s coffee table.
Smiling at me.
Dad came to see me.
Grandma never let him in.
He knelt at the door.
Until the neighbors told Grandma.
<
Grandma sighed, letting me see him.
Dad changed.
Now, he always held me.
He took me for burgers.
At first, I didn’t like it.
He was sad, reaching out, saying, “Lily, can I
hold your hand?”
I nodded.
I told Dad, I didn’t like burgers, I like
vegetables.
Dad asked why.
<
“So, you won’t yell at Mom, saying she didn’t
raise me right.”
Hearing that.
Dad cried.
He bought me a lot of junk food, telling me to
eat.
He always held me, asking me about Mom.
One day, I was eating ice cream, I saw a
woman, holding her daughter, looking worried.
I told Dad, “That kid probably has a fever.‘
“Why?”
I ate my ice cream, telling him, “When I had a
L
fever, Mom would do that, holding me and
running, running to the hospital, holding me
and running, sometimes, the doctor got mad.”
I looked up, asking Dad, “Dad, if I didn’t have
a fever, would Mom still be with us?”
Dad paused.
He touched my head, saying, “Lily, it wasn’t
your fault, it was Dad’s fault.”
I shook my head, asking, “Dad, are you mad
at Mom?”
Dad stopped.
Crying, like a kid lost his favorite toy.
