Ghost Time

over to ask if we needed anything else, and my dad said no, we were fine. Seeing I wasn’t talking, hetook a couple bites of his burger, before he set it down, wiping his fingers, individually, with the silly paper napkins. Are you ready to go? he asked, getting out of the booth, pulling out his wallet. Let’s go, he said, dropping a few dollars tip on the table; talk over. Looking outside, at the black sky, I knew that nothing would ever be the same between us again. While in the window, I watched the reflection of children playing, not a care in the world.
    And that was it. Talk over. The funny part is, next day, my parents made me see a shrink. Me . I had to see a shrink. Okay, I went a little bonkers in my bedroom, I get that, but come on, you’re telling me I’m the one who doesn’t know how to communicate? My dad cheats on my mom, leaves her for some twenty-three-year-old, then he takes me to Chuck E. Cheese’s to have the Talk, and I’m the one who needs help?
    A week later, the van was there when I got home from school. My dad was staying at a hotel by then, and my mom was handling all the packing alone. The plan was: I go home after school, the last day before winter break, and as soon as the movers were done, we’d follow them to the storage unit Mom had rented. She’d been offered a job as a paralegal in some town, upstate, so she drove up one day to meet with them. Of course I was praying she’d hate it there, so we could stay in Poughkeepsie, but no such luck. When she came home that night, she tried selling me on it, moving to some place called Fort Marshall, and I said, Indiana? We’re moving to Indiana ? Mom laughed and goes: No, that’s Fort Wayne, baby, but I didn’t even care. I was just like, Ohmygod, last time I wanted to live in a place called Fort anything, I was five. Honestly, I didn’t like the sound of it from thefirst moment, and I didn’t try to hide the fact, but Mom smiled and said it was just a couple hours northwest of Poughkeepsie. When she said that, I was like, Just a couple hours ? Canada’s just a couple hours northwest, too, so why don’t we move there? She ignored me, going on about how beautiful and safe and clean it was, this town I’d never ever heard of in my entire life, and when clean is a selling point, you know it’s bad, really bad. I couldn’t even look at her, listening to her going on about how we’d stay in a motel or whatever until we got settled, and that we’d go apartment hunting together, like how fun, right? It’ll be a whole new life, she said, and I said, Can we not talk about this right now? We were eating pizza at our kitchen table, the night before we moved out, and she looked hurt. But I didn’t care: I loved my old life, and just because she didn’t, I’m sorry.
    We’ll give it a year and see what happens, she said, returning to the table with a beer, and for a moment, I don’t know why, but out of nowhere, I just wanted to hurt her. I got up to carry my paper plate to the trash, which at that point was a black Hefty bag on the floor, in front of the back door, and the rest of the kitchen was packed. There were boxes stacked everywhere, all very clearly marked in my mom’s perfect handwriting, and it looked so sad. I didn’t understand our things, boxed like that, but then again, I didn’t understand anything.
    I looked at her, and I was just like, What? I go, What, Mom? And she goes, Come here, and I stood on the staircase, wanting to say no. Thea, come here, she said; I was so annoyed, I wanted to scream. I don’t know why, really, but I was annoyed with her all the time by then. So I rolled my eyes, turning aroundand walking back into the dining room. What! I said, not asking her, telling her, making sure she knew how irritated I was. Good night, she said, looking like herself again for a second, with that look in her eyes, telling me I knew better, because we always said good night, especially the last night in our own home. Good night, I said, turning around.
    I think that was the last time I saw my mom. I mean the woman I remember her being. It didn’t hit me until I grabbed the rail, and then, walking upstairs, I felt like I was going to cry all of a sudden. I made it to my room, and closed the door, and I wanted to—I even sat down on the side of my bed, ready for it, but nothing came. Guess my tears got packed, too.
    The next day, when I got home from school, the movers only had a few boxes left to load into