Her Final Departure

I went to bring my dad a Father's Day gift, only to discover he was hiding a child in his office.

I told my mom about it as soon as I got home.

Mom looked at me, only half believing it. How old is this child? she asked.

I thought about it seriously. Probably about the same age as Dad.

Mom burst out laughing, her shoulders shaking. "Your father couldn't possibly have a child that old!"

But Dad definitely called her baby. I heard him.

He had said, "Aww, look at you! My baby ate every single bite from her baby bowl today. What a good girl!"

And then, "What kind of cake do you want, baby? I will go buy it for you as soon as I finish working, okay?"

Dad only ever called me baby, and I was the only one who used a baby bowl. So, that person had to be Dad's other daughter.

But Mom didn't believe me.

The next day, though, Mom saw the child Dad was hiding in his office for herself. A daughter who was clearly the same age as Dad, yet sat on the floor playing with plastic toys.

Mom took me to Dad's office to deliver the Father's Day gift we couldn't give him the day before.

When the office door opened, Dad was cradling a weeping woman in his arms. She was about his age, but just like me, she was sitting on the carpet playing with plastic blocks. Even the way she sobbed was just like me.

I looked up at Mom and whispered, "See? That is the child Dad is hiding."

But this time, Mom didn't laugh or tell me I was making things up. Instead, her entire body began to tremble, as if she were facing her worst nightmare.

"When did Miss Violet get back?" Mom asked, her voice cracking.

Dad ignored Mom, waiting until the woman in his arms stopped crying. Then, he looked up with a cold glare. "A year ago."

"Do you have any idea what she went through this past year?"

"She ended up like this because of you! No, because of both of us. We are both killers!"

I didn't understand what Dad meant, but I could see the blazing fury in his eyes. Terrified, I stood on tip toe and held out the Father's Day gift I had been clutching. It was a photo album Mom and I had made together, filled with pictures of the three of us.

"Happy Father's Day, Daddy," I whispered, my voice as quiet as a mouse.

Dad took it, but he just tossed it onto the edge of his desk without looking. He turned back to Mom. "Violet came back to the country last year. When she found out we were married and had a child, she lost her mind trying to find me. She got into a terrible car accident on the way. Ever since, her mind has been stuck at the age of an eight year old. She only has brief moments of clarity."

Mom took a step back, looking as if she had been struck. She shook her head, her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned as white as her face.

"When she went abroad, she had already broken up with you," Mom whispered. "You only started pursuing me after the breakup, and we married two years later."

With a loud slam, Dad brought his fist down on the desk. The album slid off the edge, falling softly to the carpet, unnoticed by anyone.

He gritted his teeth. "That was because I had no idea she still loved me! If I knew she only left because she was forced to, and that she still had feelings for me, do you think I ever would have married you?"

Dad stopped himself, but the damage was done. Tears flowed down Mom's pale cheeks.

I had never seen Dad look so red with rage, or Mom look so utterly broken. Terrified, I burst into tears.

It was all my fault. If I hadn't mistaken that woman for a child, they wouldn't be fighting like this. I finally understood that this child was actually a sick adult. That was why she acted like a little girl.

Mom pulled me into her arms, gently rubbing my back to soothe me. After a long, heavy silence, Dad seemed to realize he had been too aggressive. He lowered his voice, but his words were resolute.

"I cannot leave Violet behind. I am going to take care of her for the rest of her life."

Before he could finish, the woman suddenly giggled. She stood up and wandered toward us, stepping right on my photo album. Her dirty shoe left a dark footprint right over our family portrait.

I wanted to run over and pick it up, but Mom suddenly stood straight. She looked at Violet's beautiful dress, then down at her own faded, wrinkled clothes.

I noticed that even though Violet was sick, she wore a gorgeous designer dress, and her hair was styled perfectly. She looked just like a princess in a castle.

She pointed at Mom and laughed. "I remember you! You are the housekeeper's daughter! Why are you just standing there like a statue? Come play house with me!"

Mom did not argue. She did not say a word. She just lowered her head and meekly picked up the plastic blocks from the floor.

Dad knelt beside Violet, his eyes filled with warmth. "Wow, look at you! You built such a beautiful little house!"

He watched her play, his face glowing with affection. But he did not see Mom standing beside them, looking so small, lost, and completely covered in silent tears.

Violet played for a bit, then suddenly snapped, "You stupid little maid! Put that block over here!"

Mom froze, her hand hovering in the air. When Mom didn't move, Violet began to scream and thrash around.

Dad glared at Mom, gesturing for her to obey. But Mom slowly set the toy down on the desk.

"Did you hear what she just called me?" she whispered. Then, she grabbed my hand, turning to leave.

I knew Grandma used to be a housekeeper. When Mom was little, she had to live under the employer's roof. She had to endure all kinds of bullying in silence. Whenever Mom talked about those memories, she would smile. But back then, Dad's eyes would always turn red with sympathy. I used to tease him for being a crybaby.

But now, Dad seemed to have forgotten all of it.

His angry voice boomed behind us. "But you are a housekeeper's daughter! Besides, the people who bullied you were Violet's parents, not Violet herself! Why are you taking it out on her? She ended up like this because of you anyway!"

I only half understood his words, but they made a cold shiver run down my spine.

Mom didn't stop. She held my hand tightly, almost lifting me off my feet as we hurried out of the office.

When we got home, Mom began to clean like a woman possessed. She scrubbed the floors until they practically reflected the light. The redness in her eyes slowly faded, and as soon as she finished cleaning, she rushed into the kitchen to prepare dinner. It was as if she knew that if she stopped moving for even a second, her tears would spill over.

I watched her move like a robot. A dull ache settled in my chest, but I was too scared to say a word.

Mom cooked a massive feast, but Dad didn't come home. She told me to eat first while she sat silently at the table. When the food grew cold, she warmed it up. She warmed it up again and again until the sauces dried up, but Dad never showed.

The next morning, Dad finally walked through the door. Mom heated up the leftovers and set them on the table. "Eat," she said simply.

Dad frowned, looking exhausted. "Violet was hysterical all night. I am going to take a nap."

Usually, Mom would have rushed to make the bed for him. But today, she stood her ground. "Eat."

Dad assumed she was just being difficult. He turned to walk away.

With a loud smash, a plate shattered right at his feet. Mom had thrown it.

Dad sighed. "I was angry yesterday and said some terrible things. Don't take them to heart. You know Violet is sick. Why are you acting so petty?"

Dad was apologizing, just like he always did when he forgot to do the dishes, forgot their anniversary, or bailed on my school events. Every time he softened his voice and admitted he was wrong, Mom would forgive him. I thought she would do the same this time.

But Mom remained completely silent.

The silence was broken by Dad's ringing phone. His face turned incredibly grim as he listened. He grabbed his coat and rushed toward the door.

"Violet is crying because I am not there. I have to go."

He abandoned his heartbroken wife and terrified child, running out without looking back. Mom watched him leave, a bitter, hollow smile appearing on her face.

That afternoon, when Dad returned, Violet was with him.

"Since you already know about Violet, I decided to bring her here," Dad said. "This way, you can help take care of her. After all, you share the responsibility for her condition."

I watched Dad run around the house. He seemed like a completely different person. He made her bed, cleaned her room, and rushed into the kitchen to cook her favorite ribs. I used to think Mom was the only one who did those things, while Dad's only job was to work, make money, and play with me. Seeing him care for Violet so gently, I realized he knew how to do everything. He just didn't want to do them for Mom.

Mom saw all of this, too, but she didn't cry anymore. Over the next few days, they coexisted in silence. Mom spent most of her time staring at a document on her computer, researching something intensely.

One day, Violet started crying hysterically because she had wet her pants. I stared at her, not knowing what to do. Suddenly, her crying stopped. She looked down at the toy in her hand, her face turning bright red, and ran into the bathroom, locking the door.

I realized she was lucid. Dad had said she had moments of clarity. Overwhelmed with shame, she refused to come out.

When Dad came home and found out, he practically dragged Mom out of bed. "Violet wet herself! How could you let this happen? She is lucid right now! Do you have any idea how humiliating this is for an adult?"

He was so busy screaming at Mom and worrying about Violet that he didn't even notice Mom was burning with a high fever, her body shaking. "I know you hate her parents, but you can not take it out on her!"

He turned and knocked gently on the bathroom door. "Violet, sweetie, it is not your fault. It was her negligence. Come out, and I will make her apologize to you, okay?"

With a click, the door opened. Dad rushed in, gently cleaning her up and tossing her soiled clothes into the trash without a hint of disgust. I remembered when I wet my pants as a toddler, Dad wouldn't even touch me.

Once Violet was clean, she still couldn't smile. She hid behind Dad, keeping her head low. "I am so embarrassed. How did I end up like this?"

She wept softly, and Dad's face was filled with absolute devotion. He comforted her while glaring at Mom. "Apologize to Violet right now! If you hadn't been so careless, she wouldn't be this upset!"

I shivered and secretly held Mom's hand. Even though her skin was burning hot, her fingers were icy cold. Mom looked at Dad, her voice weak. "I am sorry."

Mom, who had always seemed so strong, now looked as fragile as a piece of paper. I tugged at her hand, wanting to take her back to her room to rest. But Dad was not done.

"Is that all you have to say? Violet has lost her dignity!"

Mom's pale lips parted. "What do you want me to do?"

Dad sneered. "I want you to lose your dignity in front of her, too!"

Gathering all my strength, I tried to push Dad away. "Mom is sick! Why are you bullying her?"

Dad didn't budge. He looked down at me with cold eyes. "Did your mother teach you to say that?"

Before I could deny it, Violet spoke up. "Gavin, I found something in the bathroom earlier."

She held out a small plastic stick with two bright red lines. "I am pregnant."

Mom froze, stumbling backward as if struck by lightning. Dad, on the other hand, lit up with joy. He scooped Violet into his arms. "Really? You are having my baby?"

Looking at their opposite reactions, I couldn't tell if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

Mom's voice trembled. "When... when did this happen?"

Violet smiled. "I was lucid quite a few times this past year. We talked about old times, and we just couldn't help ourselves. It was only natural."

Mom stood frozen, but I felt as if something had shattered right beside my ear.

Violet stroked her belly. "You have no right to complain. Gavin and I were together first. You are just the intruder." She reached out to pat my head. "You are going to have a little brother soon. Mine and your father's..."

With sudden strength, Mom lunged forward and shoved Violet away. She could barely stand, yet she shielded me behind her body. "Do not say those disgusting things to my daughter!"

Violet stumbled back, looking at Dad with big, tearful eyes. A loud smack echoed through the room. Dad had slapped Mom across the face.

It felt like my entire world collapsed in that moment. Tears poured down my face, but I was too terrified to make a sound. I tried to help Mom up, but then I saw bright red blood pooling beneath her.

The force of Dad's slap had sent Mom crashing into the sharp corner of the dining table, striking her lower back. It was an old injury from when they used to go ice skating together. Back then, when Mom had to get stitches, Dad had knelt by her hospital bed, crying. I will never let you get hurt again. From now on, any pain meant for you will go to me instead. He had protected her ever since, never letting her suffer a scratch. But today, he was the one who hurt her.

Grimacing in pain, Mom whispered, "If you had married Violet back then, would you have treated her the way you treat me?"

Dad didn't answer. He was too busy fussing over Violet, checking to see if she was hurt. But Mom seemed to find her answer in his silence.

Using the last of her strength, she leaned close and whispered a few words in my ear before passing out.

I screamed her name, but she didn't move. I ran to Dad, begging for help, but he scoffed, convinced Mom was just acting, and led Violet out of the room.

In the end, I had to call our neighbor, who helped get Mom to the hospital. I stayed home, waiting for her to get better. But as I thought about the secret she had whispered to me before she lost consciousness, I knew she was never coming back. And Dad's easy life was about to end.