Left Behind for Ten Years, I Disappear

Mom and Dad have been divorced for ten years. One day, I come across a discussion thread. "Are all children of divorce having it hard?" I join the discussion. "Not always. Personally, I'm living pretty decently. After my parents' divorce, my sister and I were separated—one of us went to live with our paternal grandparents, and the other with our maternal grandparents. "For the last ten years, my parents have visited me once a year. Although they usually only stay for a few days, I can tell that they still love me." Within a minute, someone replies to my comment. "Girl, are you sure? My parents are divorced as well, but they can't bear to leave me at all. I've been with them since I was a kid. On weekdays, I stay with my mom. On the weekend, I go to my dad's. "Honestly, it's like they never divorced at all. LOL." I tap into her profile. The pinned post is a photo of Mom, Dad, and my sister, Hazel Foster. They hug her from either side. The caption reads, "A divorce can end a marriage, but it can't erase the bond we share. I'm glad I'll always be their precious baby." Meanwhile, this morning, Mom replies to me, "Your dad and I have been divorced for so long. Just get him to drop you off at college. It's awkward for me to be there." The next second, I receive Dad's reply. "Ask your mom. I'm a man. What do I know about things like orientation and college? I'll visit you someday when I'm free." I go back to the discussion thread and write back to Hazel. "You're right. Whether or not a child of divorce gets to live a normal life depends entirely on whether the parents still want their child in their lives." After closing the page, I open my email and sign up for an international volunteer program. My destination is a field hospital in a war zone five thousand miles away, where I will spend the next two years. There's no need for me to wait until Mom and Dad have time for me again. I'm never coming back here. Chapter 1 Heather's POV I had just submitted my international volunteer program application when Grandma's voice came from the yard. "Hey, brat! Are the chili peppers and tomatoes done drying yet? What are you dawdling for? The sun's already past its peak!" I immediately locked my phone and hurried out into the yard. "Coming!" My paternal grandma, Eleanor Cain, was sitting under the eaves, shucking corn and talking to herself. "Your dad called the day before yesterday. He said he's coming back to see you next month." She tossed the leaves into the basket, her tone as casual as if she were mentioning something trivial. "It's not easy for him to make it back even once a year. He works hard to make a living in the city. When you see him, don't give him the cold shoulder." I nodded. "Okay." "Your mom also said she'll send some things back at the start of fall," Grandma added. "Your parents may be divorced, but they still care about you. Don't be like that brat next door, always complaining about this and that." I had heard the same thing for ten years. Every year, it was always about how, despite having it hard, they still cared so much about me, and therefore, I shouldn't ever be difficult. I had never once doubted those words, but things changed 20 minutes ago when I came across my younger sister Hazel Foster's social media profile. She said, "On weekdays, I stay with my mom. On the weekend, I go to my dad's." I set down the corn in my hands, my voice turning cold. "Grandma, do Mom and Dad only see Hazel at Grandpa Mike and Grandma Evelyn's place once a year, too?" Grandma's hand froze in midair, her voice suddenly rising. "What's gotten into you? Why are you suddenly asking about that?" "I just—" "Stop thinking about them all the time!" she snapped, cutting me off. "Your mom left you when you were only eight. I'm the one who raised you, fed you, clothed you, and took care of you. The fact that she even comes here once a year is enough for you to be grateful!" She still hadn't answered my question. "You eat well and have warm clothes here with me. What more could you possibly want?" Grandma continued. "Always asking this and that. Are you trying to grow into an ungrateful brat or what?" I didn't press further. It wasn't the first time I had tried. When I was nine, my mom, Margot Irvin, came to visit me during summer vacation. When it was time for her to leave, I cried and clung to her, begging her not to go. That night, Grandma yelled at me with a grim look. "Have some shame! She doesn't even want you anymore! Why are you still clinging to her?" After that, I never cried again when Mom left. When I was 12, my dad, William Foster, came to pick up Hazel for a movie during the New Year holiday. I asked if I could go, too. In front of him, Grandma said, "Don't be a nuisance to them. Your dad still has to get home." All this time, I thought Grandma was protecting me. I thought she was keeping me from dwelling on all those "unhappy things". Now, looking at her clenched jaw and her avoidant gaze, I suddenly understood. She wasn't afraid I would get hurt. She was afraid I would find out the truth. That night, I lay in bed and browsed through Hazel's profile again. I scrolled down from her latest posts. In a photo from last year's Independence Day at Worldstar Studios, I spotted Dad's profile in the crowd. In another one from her birthday party two years ago, Mom's face was reflected in the window. During a beach trip three summers ago, the shadows of all three of them stretched across the sand. I then went all the way back to the year I graduated from elementary school. In every photo captioned "Out with friends", traces of Mom and Dad were somewhere in the background. For ten consecutive years, they had never missed a moment of her life. Somehow, I had been stupid enough not to notice until today. I opened Hazel's chat and typed, "Have you all been living together this whole time?" Before I could hit send, a message popped up in that same chat. "Guess what, Heather? Mom and Dad said they want to see you tomorrow!" Chapter 2 Heather's POV "They did?" I replied, staring at Hazel's message and re-reading it three times. "Yeah!" she responded instantly. "They said they haven't seen you in forever, so they're taking both of us to Dreamland tomorrow!" My fingers were trembling. "I'm going too?" "Duh!" she replied with an eye-roll emoji. "Of course you are, Heather. We're family." Warmth spread through my chest. I asked, "How many tickets are there?" "Four. One for me, one for Mom, one for Dad, and one for you. Don't worry!" After putting down my phone, I dug through my closet until I found the cleanest sweatshirt I had. The cuffs were a little worn, but there were no holes. It was the nicest thing I owned. At 5:00 am, I caught the first bus out of town, then transferred to two different city buses. When I arrived at the entrance to Dreamland at 8:30 am, I spotted a white SUV parked in the drop-off area. Hazel was the first to jump out, wearing a cartoon headband. Then Mom and Dad got out. The three of them wore matching gray-blue T-shirts with a cartoon castle logo on the chest. I looked down at myself. My black sweatshirt had been washed so many times it was starting to fade, and there was even a streak of dirt on the knee of my jeans. Mom waved at me. "Heather! Over here!" Dad did the same. "You made it! Was everything okay on your way here?" Hazel ran over and hooked her arm through mine. "Come on, come on! Let's go in! I already planned everything. We're going on Soaring first!" At the entrance, Hazel tapped all four tickets against the scanner. The first three went through with green lights. When it was my turn, the machine flashed red. The staff member glanced at it and pulled the ticket out. "This is a complimentary ticket. It's only valid for children under four feet tall. Adults can't use it to enter." I froze. Hazel tilted her head. "Huh? No way…" She turned to Mom and Dad and stuck out her tongue. "This ticket was originally for Macy next door, but she had to go to summer camp at the last minute. "I thought it'd be a waste not to use it, so I invited Heather instead… I didn't know there was an age restriction." It was meant for the kid next door. She couldn't make it, so they invited me. Mom and Dad stood on the other side of the gate, looking at me through the barrier. Mom tugged lightly on Dad's sleeve. He cleared his throat and said nothing. They were waiting for me to say something. I knew that silence all too well. It was the same two seconds of hesitation from when Dad picked up Hazel to go to the movies when I was 12. It wasn't that they couldn't take me. They were waiting for me to take the hint. I took a deep breath. "It's fine. I'll just wait outside and—" "She's also your kid, right?" The ticket attendant looked up and cut me off before I could finish. "Just buy her another ticket. The poor kid came all the way in this heat. You can't seriously make her stand outside all day." Dad seemed to snap out of a daze. "Right, right. We'll get another ticket." Mom quickly pulled out her phone. "How much is it? I'll pay." Once we got inside, Hazel dragged Mom and Dad toward the first ride. They quickly disappeared into the crowd. I stood there, carrying all three of their backpacks. Soaring took 40 minutes, Minecarts took 25, and the carousel took another 10. I kept track of the time, sitting on a bench outside each ride and waiting for them to come out. Not once that entire day did anyone ask if I wanted to go on a ride. After we left the park, Dad took me out to dinner for once. He smiled at me. "So, Heather, how did you do on your SAT?" I was just about to answer when Hazel suddenly slapped her cutlery down onto the table. "Ugh, why is this steak well done? I hate it when it's well done!" Mom immediately raised her hand for the waiter. "Please bring her another one—medium well with black pepper sauce. Fries on the side, no salad." She rattled it all off without hesitation, as though she had memorized it. Once the new steak arrived, Dad never asked me again. Instead, he started talking about Hazel's college applications. She happily dug into her steak, looking pleased with herself. "For my first choice, I applied to one of the state's top universities. If that doesn't work out, I still have an international foundation program as a backup! "You know, that program requires applications two years in advance. I heard a lot of students don't even have time to prepare." Mom smiled lovingly. "Good thing we started preparing back in your freshman year. Don't worry, Hazel. I'll always have your back." They had started preparing Hazel's applications when she was a freshman in high school, yet Dad didn't even make it to the end of the question about my SAT score before forgetting about it. Chapter 3 Heather's POV After dinner, my family and I went back to their home in the city. Hazel pushed open the door to her bedroom and said goodnight without even looking back. Mom pulled a thin blanket from the closet and handed it to me. "Sorry, but you'll have to take the couch tonight." The couch was too short, so I curled up, tossing and turning. I just couldn't fall asleep. They hadn't drawn the living room curtains. Moonlight spilled through the window and cast a perfect spotlight on the wall across from me, where a row of framed photos hung. From left to right, they showed Hazel in kindergarten, elementary school, middle school, and high school. I didn't know how much time had passed when I heard Mom sigh from the master bedroom. "Seeing her today… I don't know. I felt kind of bad for her." Dad's voice drifted over from the bedroom. "What's wrong?" "It's just… that sweatshirt she was wearing. It was the one I sent her two years ago. The sleeves are so short already," she said, then paused. "Do you think she's not doing well back in the countryside?" Dad seemed to turn over, making the bed frame creak. "Whether she's doing well or not, that's her fate. We agreed on it back then. The two kids would draw lots, and whoever drew the short straw would stay in the countryside. She just had bad luck. What can we do about it?" Mom fell silent briefly. "I guess you're right." Her voice grew quieter. "Forget it. Let's not talk about it anymore. We'll take her to the bus station tomorrow. We still need to take Hazel shopping for everything she needs for the new school year." Dad grunted lightly. The master bedroom fell silent. I lay there in the darkness, my eyes wide open. Memories of what happened when I was eight came rushing back, blurry and fragmented. That day, Grandma had cheerfully taken two straws and held them tightly in her fist. "Come on, girls. Let's play a game. Pick one, any one." I had no idea what it meant, so I reached out and pulled one at random. The moment Grandma saw which one I had picked, her face lit up. "Oh, look at our Heather. You're so lucky. You get to stay with me." That night, when Mom came to take Hazel away, I even ran outside to wave goodbye. I thought I was the one who had been "chosen to stay". I thought staying behind meant I had won. It turned out that I had lost my life that very night ten years ago. After dawn, Mom came out of the bedroom and saw that I was already dressed in my jacket. "Oh, you're up early." "Yeah. Don't want to miss the bus." Dad poked his head out of the kitchen, a cup in his hand. "Why don't you have breakfast before you go?" "No, thanks. I'll grab some buns at the bus station." Mom rummaged through her bag and pulled out a few 50-dollar bills. "Here, take this. Buy some things you'll need for college." I didn't take them. She looked like she wanted to say more, but then Hazel came out of her bedroom, rubbing her eyes. "Mom, which store are we going to for my laptop today? I want the latest model." Mom's attention immediately shifted to her. "Have breakfast first. We'll go after." I changed into my shoes by the door and quietly closed it behind me. Once I was out, I didn't head to the bus station. Instead, I hailed a cab by the roadside. "Airport, please." Chapter 4 Heather's POV The moment the aircraft door opened, a wave of heat hit me, carrying the dusty smell of the earth. I was officially in a foreign country. A man in his 30s walked toward me. "Are you Heather Foster?" He sized me up and down, then tucked the clipboard under his arm. "I'm Hector Zimmerman, the team leader. You can call me Hector. Sorry to ask, but how old are you?" "I'm 18." "18…" He shook his head. "You're the youngest volunteer I've ever had. The youngest before you was 23. Did your family agree to let you come? The conditions here are pretty tough. You signed on for two years. Just so you know, you can't just leave halfway—" "I don't have a family," I clarified calmly. Hector looked at me for a couple of seconds, then gave up asking. We got into a car, and he stepped on the gas. Outside the window, the paved road turned into gravel, then dirt. I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes, my mind blank. Five thousand miles away from home… That should be far away enough. … Third-Person POV Three days later, the first of September arrived, marking the first day of the new school year. Early that morning, Margot called her ex-husband, William. "Hey, did you take Heather to her orientation? Which college is she going to? Send me the location. I'll mail her some basic supplies." William froze. "I thought you were taking her." Margot was just as confused. "Me? Why would I? Didn't you say you'd drive her there once she went back to the countryside?" "When did I ever say that?" He raised his voice, adding, "You've been handling everything for her these past ten years!" She was getting worked up, too. "I see her once a year! How would I have handled anything? I don't even know what she eats, wears, or which college she goes to!" A five-second silence settled on both ends of the call. In the end, William asked, "Then… who's been taking care of her all these years?" Neither of them had an answer. They called Heather more than a dozen times in a row, but her phone was switched off. William couldn't sit still anymore. He got in the car and drove back to the countryside. "I bet she just slept in!" When he got to the countryside and pushed open the door to Heather's bedroom, he froze at how empty it was. He rushed into the courtyard and grabbed Eleanor. "Mom! Where's Heather? Where did she go?" Eleanor was confused. "Didn't she go into the city to meet with you guys a few days ago? She never came back. I thought she was staying with you." On the phone, Margot sounded frantic. "Could something have happened to her? Call the police!" Hazel, on the other hand, remained calm. "She's not the reckless type. Besides, she has money on her. Nothing could've happened to her." William paused, then nodded. "Right. I send her 200 dollars every month for living expenses." "I do, too," Margot said. "300 dollars a month. It's been ten years. She must've saved quite a bit by now." He sighed. "That's good. At least she wouldn't have—" He hadn't finished speaking when Margot suddenly backed out of her banking app, her face changing. "Wait. That's not right. Every payment I've sent her was transferred out on the same day it arrived." Both William and Margot had access to Heather's account since they started sending her money. He checked the account as well and saw the same thing. Every single payment they had sent was transferred to another account within half an hour. The account was registered to none other than Eleanor. He shoved his phone screen in front of Eleanor. "Mom, why did you take all the money we've been sending Heather over the years?" She was feeding the chickens and barely looked up. "I've been saving it all for Hazel. Things cost more in the city. She needs money for college." "You saved all of it for Hazel?" Margot exclaimed through the phone. "Then… how has Heather been getting by all these years?" Eleanor scattered the last handful of bran from the bowl and dusted off her hands. "She has food to eat and a bed to sleep in. What would she need money for?" "Have you ever bought her a single new piece of clothing?" Margot practically screamed. "The sweatshirt she wore that day was the one I sent her two years ago! The sleeves were already too short, yet she was still wearing them!" William's eyes reddened. "So, she's been living off the 15 dollars we give her when we come home once a year? For ten years?" Eleanor stood beside the chicken coop, holding the empty bowl. A cold laugh escaped her. "Then you should've come home more than once a year if you cared so much. You left her here for ten years, and now you're here demanding answers for how I raised her? "I fed her and clothed her. I never failed to do my part. That money was never meant to be hers. Her fate was to stay here and look after the house. I can give that money to whoever I want." With that, she turned and walked into the house. William stood in the courtyard for a long time. Finally, he muttered to himself, "Forget it. It was all fate. She drew the short straw." Over the wall separating the two yards, the neighbor, Lynette Hackley, was hanging bedsheets. She had been listening for a while. In the end, she draped the sheet over the clothesline and leaned over the wall. "Oh, Will…" She hesitated for a few seconds, then sighed. "The truth is, Heather didn't draw the short straw."