Chapter 4

On Tuesday morning, Dad finally received an urgent call from my school.

"Mr. Hayes, we have paperwork regarding Mia's primary legal guardian that requires your signature in person."

Dad frowned into the phone.

"What guardianship update?"

The counselor paused on the line for several seconds.

"Mia's primary caregiver is no longer listed as her mother. The school needs to update its permanent emergency records."

Holding the phone, Dad's face went rigid.

"What are you talking about?"

Half an hour later, he stormed into the hospital.

Eleanor and I were standing at the records counter, photocopying Mom's medical charts.

The moment Dad saw us, he marched over, holding a stainless steel thermos and a brand-new box of prescription stomach pills.

"How much longer are you two going to drag out this circus?!"

"Now you've even dragged her school into claiming Clara's dead?!"

Eleanor stared at him with hollow eyes.

"I told you."

"Mia told you."

"You chose not to believe it."

Dad slammed the thermos onto a nearby plastic chair.

"Fine."

"I'll go in there and wheel her out myself."

He looked down and zipped my windbreaker all the way up to my chin.

"Why are you dressed so lightly again?"

"Your mom has been so consumed with throwing her tantrum she can't even take care of you properly?"

I looked up into his eyes and asked:

"Dad, what if Mom really is dead?"

His hands froze on my collar.

This time, he didn't answer right away.

A few seconds later, his brow pinched together.

"Stop jinxing things."

"She wouldn't."

Just two words.

Not "I hope she wouldn't."

"She wouldn't."

Even now, he was totally convinced that Mom couldn't bear to die, couldn't bear to leave him, and couldn't bear to break up our home.

The triage nurse behind the desk heard the name and looked up.

"Family of Clara Hayes?"

Dad stepped forward immediately.

"I'm her husband."

The nurse looked him up and down.

"Husband?"

Dad was already losing his patience.

"Yes. Which room is she in?"

The nurse didn't answer. Instead, she pulled a legal document from a manila folder.

"Good timing. The morgue release paperwork requires an immediate family member's signature."

"We couldn't get a hold of you over the weekend, so the deceased's mother had to sign the provisional intake forms."

Dad's outstretched hand froze in mid-air.

"What morgue?"

The nurse frowned, checking the file.

"Clara Hayes."

"She suffered massive toxic shock from a severe gas leak last Saturday. She was already unresponsive upon ambulance arrival. Resuscitation efforts failed."

The anger on Dad's face began to peel away, piece by piece.

After several long seconds, the corner of his mouth twitched into a pathetic smirk.

"You're in on this mistake too, aren't you?"

"Did her mother pay you to say this?"

The nurse didn't argue. She simply slid the official Certificate of Death across the counter.

Full Name.

Social Security Number.

Time of Death.

Every single field was filled. Every detail was indisputable.

Dad stared down at that paper.

Every drop of blood drained from his face until he was ghost-white.

Eleanor pulled the clear plastic bag from her purse and hurled it violently against his chest.

Inside was the blood-soaked luxury watch, and the crumpled card stained with crimson fingerprints:

"Congratulations on your promotion."

"You worked so hard for so many years. You finally made it."

Signed with Mom's name.

Dad stared at those handwritten letters.

His fingers clenched so hard the paper crumpled.

"This is..."

"Clara bought it for you," Eleanor spat, her voice shaking with rage.

"The night she died, she stayed up waiting for you to come home so she could hand it to you herself."

"And you wouldn't even pick up her calls."

Dad opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

"She's... really dead?"

The watch slipped through his limp fingers and hit the linoleum floor.

He dropped to his knees to pick it up.

His hand shook so badly he fumbled it the first time.

The second time, he could barely clamp his trembling fingers around the leather strap.