Mom's Only Wish: Erase Me

After bringing me into this world, Mom develops postpartum depression. It lasts for 18 long years. On my fifth birthday, Dad buys me a small cake. Mom hurls it onto the floor. "I almost died giving birth to you, and you actually have the nerve to celebrate?" On my tenth birthday, Grandma forces me to kneel before Mom and press my forehead against the floor. "Your birthday is the day your mother suffered. You should be grateful she didn't strangle you at birth!" On my 15th birthday, I secretly make a wish, hoping Mom will get better soon. After overhearing me, she slaps me across the face. "I'll never get better as long as you're in my life!" On my 18th birthday, my family takes down my birthday candles and changes the name on the cake to "18 Years of Suffering". Mom makes her one and only wish in front of all our relatives. "I hope she never shows her face in front of me again." Grandpa and Grandma urge me to be the bigger person. After a prolonged silence, Dad says quietly, "Maybe your mom really will get better after you move out." I smile and nod before blowing out the candles in Mom's place. After returning to my room, I dig out the birthday cards I've saved for 18 years and carefully write on the last one. "Mom, this time, your wish will definitely come true." Chapter 1 The moment I wrote the last word, the door was kicked open from the outside. Mom stood at the threshold, looking at me coldly. "What are you doing here?" I instinctively closed the tin box. "Nothing." She didn't buy it for a second. She strode over, snatched the tin from my hands, and dumped all the birthday cards inside onto the floor. 18 colorful cards scattered around her feet. Mom casually picked one up. It was one I had written when I was seven. "Mom cried for three hours today. From now on, when Dad picks me up from school, I'll get out at the entrance to the neighborhood so Mom won't see me." After reading it, her expression hardened. "Why did you write these? Are you planning to show them to other people so everyone will know I'm a terrible mother?" I hurriedly shook my head. "I wasn't going to show anyone." "In that case, why are you keeping them?" She lifted her foot and stepped on the cards, grinding them under her shoe. "I knew you were calculating, Danica Langston! You pretend to be sensible on the surface, but behind my back, you write down everything I've ever said." I crouched down to pick the cards back up. Mom booted the tin box aside. "Hands off! These cards are all evidence you're collecting to use against me, aren't they?" I was shoved so hard by her that I tumbled backward onto the floor. Grandma rushed in when she heard the commotion. She bent down and flipped through the cards. "Evelyn's right. Who in their right mind would keep track of ancient history from 18 years ago? It's obvious that she loathes you!" I couldn't help but retort, "I don't loathe her." There wasn't a single line of accusation on those cards. I was simply keeping track of my wishes every year. I wished Mom would cry a little less. I wished she would take her medication on time. I wished that one day, she would be willing to call me by my nickname. Unfortunately, no one cared to listen. Grandma seized my arm. "Drop the act! Your mother was finally having a good day, and yet you hide in your room writing this depressing crap. Do you have to drive her to death before you're satisfied?" Mom looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. "Didn't you agree to move out? Pack your belongings right now!" I was caught off guard. "Right now?" "You heard me." "But tomorrow's the last day to submit my college preferences. My ID and documents are still in Dad's study. Can I leave after I submit them?" Mom burst into laughter. "You want to attend college?" The very next second, she yanked open my desk drawer and pulled out the college preference forms I had printed. "You've made my life miserable for 18 years, and now you think you can merrily go to a college in another city? Why do you think you deserve that?" I charged at her to snatch it back. Yet, right in front of my eyes, she tore the form in half. Mom went through all three documents before scattering the shreds of paper all over the floor. I went rigid. I had spent two whole months researching these schools. Riverdale Teachers College, my first choice, was the college I had dreamed of attending since middle school. Mom hurled the last piece of paper in my face. "I almost died on the operating table when I brought you into this world. How dare you use the life I nearly lost to go to college, celebrate your birthday, and build a future for yourself? If you had half a heart, you'd stay here and take care of me. But all you ever think about is how to get away from me!" At last, I snapped. "What on earth do you want from me? Do you want me to stay, or do you want me gone for good?" The room fell silent. Mom stared at me, her lips trembling slightly. In a heartbeat, she grabbed the box cutter from my desk and pressed it against her wrist. "So I'm a burden to you now? Fine! I'll kill myself right now. Once I'm dead, no one will stop you from going to whatever college you want!" Dad and Grandpa barged into the room at the sound of the commotion. Dad snatched the box cutter away and pulled Mom into a tight embrace. Grandpa raised his hand and slapped me across the face. "How dare you talk to your mother like that?" My cheek instantly burned. Mom curled up in Dad's arms, sobbing so hard that her whole body trembled. Dad comforted her while looking at me in disappointment. "Danica, you know very well how fragile your mother is. Why do you insist on talking back to her?" I gazed at him. "She tore up my college preference form." "The form can be printed again. But if something happens to your mom, how are you going to make up for that?" So, my future could simply be printed again. Yet, every tear Mom shed had to be paid for with my life. Grandma pulled a household separation agreement out of her bag and tossed it in front of me. "Sign it and move out tonight." I didn't take it. Mom's sobs came to a sudden halt. Her gaze was ice-cold as she peered over Dad's shoulder at me. "What, are you not willing to sign it? You claim you want me to get better, but when you're actually asked to do something for me, you can't bring yourself to do it?" I lowered my head to look at the agreement. "Danica, you've been responsible for my illness for 18 years. You don't actually think that just because you're an adult, you can just walk away scot-free, do you?" she jeered. Chapter 2 That night, I didn't sign the agreement. It wasn't because I couldn't bear to leave this household, but because I had an appointment for a psychological evaluation the following morning. A month ago, I started hearing someone's cries in the middle of the night. That voice sounded a lot like my childhood self. The little girl kept asking me why Mom didn't love her. Sometimes, when I stood before the window of my classroom on the tenth floor, a terrifying thought would cross my mind. Would everything come to an end if I finally took that one final step? I was scared out of my wits. Thus, without telling my family, I reached out to the hospital. … The next morning, I was about to head out when Mom stood in my way. "Where are you off to?" "School." She snatched the document folder out of my hand. My appointment slip fell out. The moment her eyes landed on the words "Department of Psychiatry", her expression twisted with rage. "What's the meaning of this?" I bent down to pick it up. "I haven't been feeling well lately, so I want to go get checked out." "You haven't been feeling well?" Mom abruptly raised her voice. "What's wrong with you?" I balled my hands into fists. "I can't sleep, and I keep hearing voices in my head. The doctor said it might be depression." As soon as my words fell, she burst into laughter. She laughed so hard tears glistened at the corners of her eyes. "Depression? Danica, as if you have the right to be depressed!" I froze. Mom ripped the appointment slip to shreds and hurled it at my face. "I've been suffering from postpartum depression for 18 years, and now you want to be depressed too? Why do you have to steal everything from me? Was your father and the whole family's attention not enough? Now, you've gone as far as to copy my illness!" I parted my lips. "I'm not copying you." "In that case, why did you have to fall ill now of all times? Why did it have to happen right when I asked you to move out?" Mom seized my chin, forcing me to look her in the eye. "You realized playing the victim wasn't getting you anywhere, so now you're pretending to be nuts, aren't you? You want everyone to think that we drove you crazy. You want to turn me from the victim into the villain!" Grandpa and Grandma heard our argument and emerged from the dining room. Grasping at my last straw, I showed them the text message from the hospital. "I'm not lying. The doctor told me to come in for an evaluation as soon as possible." Grandma only took one look at it. "You call that a diagnosis? You merely chatted with some random doctor online for a few minutes. When your mother has an episode, she cries, she screams, and she even self-harms with a knife. What do you ever do besides sit there with a stoic face? Have you ever seen someone with depression that quiet?" I wanted to tell her that quiet people feel pain too. However, Mom had already snatched my phone away and flung it onto the ground. The screen shattered instantly. "I forbid you from going! There can only be one patient in this house. If you're sick as well, who's going to make it up to me for these 18 years?" Dad happened to descend the stairs at that moment. Paying no mind to my broken phone, I rushed over and grasped his hand. "Please come to the hospital with me, Dad. I seriously don't feel so well. Last night, the voice in my head told me to end my life again!" A flash of panic crossed Dad's face. He glanced at the time, seemingly intent on getting me out of there. Mom, however, walked straight into the kitchen and picked up a fruit knife. Pressing the blade flush against her throat, she said calmly, "Douglas Langston, if you dare take her to the hospital today, you'll come home to a corpse." Dad immediately let go of my hand. My palm suddenly felt empty. I stood rooted to the spot and felt as though I was three years old all over again. That day, he had held my hand as he took me to kindergarten. Mom had also held a knife, forcing him to choose between us. In the end, he pried my fingers apart and told me to go on my own. 15 years later, he still made the exact same choice. Dad slowly backed up to Mom's side. "Evelyn, put the knife down. I won't take her to the hospital anymore." A faint smile crept onto Mom's face. She tossed the knife into the sink and looked at me over Dad's shoulder. "Did you hear that? Even your father knows that your little discomfort isn't as important as my life!" Grandma patted her back and comforted her softly. "Fear not, sweetheart. We will always be on your side." I looked down at my empty hand and suddenly asked Dad, "What about me? What am I supposed to do?" Dad avoided my gaze. "Go back to your room and calm down. Don't spout such things in front of your mom again." "What if I really end up dead?" I pressed. Mom sneered. "Quit bluffing. You're far too selfish to take your own life." Dad's forehead creased. His patience wore thin. "That's enough! Stop provoking your mom." I took in the four people in front of me and suddenly understood that when Mom said she wanted to die, it was an emergency that required the entire family to rush to save her. Yet, when I told them I wanted to die, I was merely triggering her. I didn't even have the right to cry for help. Chapter 3 That afternoon, Dad snuck into my room. He stuffed a debit card into my hand. "There's 50,000 dollars in here. Stay somewhere else for now. Once your mom's condition stabilizes, I'll take you to the hospital." He lowered his voice, as if he was afraid someone might hear him. I looked at the card and suddenly remembered my childhood. Every time Mom beat me, he would secretly slip me some money. At times, it was 50 dollars. Other times, it was 100 dollars. The most he had ever given me was 500 dollars. He always told me to buy something I liked, as if money could hug me in his place and apologize to me on his behalf. "Dad, will you really come after me?" He hesitated for a moment. "I will." "When?" "Once your mom gets a little better." I had heard those words for 18 years. Once Mom got a little better, Dad would take me to the amusement park. Once Mom got a little better, we would take a family portrait. Once Mom got a little better, she would slowly come to love me. However, she never got better, and I never got what I had been waiting for. Still, I accepted the card and started packing my belongings. I wanted to live. Even without my family, I wanted to go to the hospital. I wanted to go to college. I wanted to see what life was actually like for normal 18-year-olds. However, the moment I wheeled my suitcase into the living room, Mom came home. The first thing she saw was the debit card in my hand. "Where did you get that?" Dad's expression changed in an instant. "It's a college enrollment bonus the company gave Danica." Mom snatched it away and confronted him. "What kind of company would hand 50,000 dollars to someone who hasn't even started working there? Why are you giving her money behind my back? Are you trying to support her without my knowledge?" Dad wanted to explain himself, but she snapped the debit card in half. "No wonder she refused to sign the agreement. Turns out, you two had everything planned from the very beginning. You're going to leave me at home while you and your daughter go off to enjoy the good life!" Mom lunged at my suitcase and dumped all my clothes out. I had three T-shirts, two pairs of faded jeans, and my high school uniform. Mom rummaged through my belongings for a while, but she couldn't find anything valuable enough to match what she'd had in mind. Her eyes landed on a thick loose-leaf binder. I immediately stepped forward to grab it. "Don't touch that!" That only made her tighten her grip on it. "What is it this time? Another piece of evidence against me?" The binder was flipped open, revealing page after page of her medical records. When Mom suffered from insomnia, she would repeatedly check the locks on the doors. If she missed her medication for two days in a row, she must not be allowed near sharp objects. When she had an emotional breakdown, we shouldn't argue with her. We should dim the lights and play the piano music she liked. I remembered all her episodes and all the changes in her medication over the last few years like it was yesterday. Mom flipped through a few pages before hurling the binder at my face. "Are you spying on me?" "No." "Don't you dare lie to me!" She grabbed the binder and tossed it straight into the ornamental fish tank in the living room. The ink hastily bled into the water. Like a madwoman, I rushed over and fished the binder out. The pages were completely soaked through. Much of my handwriting had blurred into indistinct blue smudges. "Why did you throw it away?" For the first time in 18 years, I yelled at her. "Who reminded you to take your medication every time you had an episode? Who stayed outside the bathroom when you locked yourself in there in the middle of the night? "Dad doesn't even know what medication you take, and Grandpa and Grandma only ever indulge you. All these years, I'm the one who's genuinely wanted you to get better!" The living room fell dead silent. Mom stared long and hard at me. For a second, I thought she would be moved. Yet, she abruptly raised her hand and slapped me hard across the face. "Isn't that what you're supposed to do? Why do you think I fell ill in the first place? It's because I gave birth to you! Even if you took care of me for the rest of your life, you still wouldn't be able to repay the life you owe me!" A loud ringing filled my ears, but she continued, "Don't act like you're some saint just because you've fed me my medication a few times. If you genuinely wanted me to get better, you wouldn't show your face in front of me every day. "Every year, on your birthday, I'm reminded of how much I suffered just to give birth to you. The happier you are, the more successful you become, and the brighter your future looks, the more you remind me that you ruined my entire life!" Dad finally broke his silence. "That's enough, Evelyn!" Mom whipped her head around. "What, does your heart ache for her? In that case, get the hell out with her! The second you two step out that door, I'll jump out the window!" Grandma immediately snatched my suitcase away. She dug my ID out of my pocket. "Let's wait until Evelyn calms down first. Who knows what kind of trouble you'll get yourself into after running off with all this stuff?" I watched as she locked my ID and the broken pieces of the bank card in a cabinet. The front door was double-locked. My suitcase was confiscated. My phone was smashed. All of them wanted me to leave, yet they made sure I had no way to actually get out. Mom leaned against Dad's chest, looking all triumphant again. "What makes you think you're entitled to an easy life, Danica?" she asked, looking me in the eye. Chapter 4 Late that night, the whole family finally settled down. I sat on the floor in my bedroom, carefully spreading out the pages of the loose-leaf binder. A few words were still legible, while others had completely vanished. I pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and rewrote the names of Mom's current medications and the times she needed to take them. Once I was done, I taped it to the most conspicuous spot on the medicine cabinet. I had no idea why I was still doing any of this. Perhaps I'd spent such a long time taking care of Mom that it had become a habit etched into my bones. … At 1:00 am, I heard footsteps outside my bedroom. Mom pushed the door open and walked in. She tossed the household separation agreement in front of me. "Sign it." I looked up at her. "Didn't you take my ID?" "I'll give it back to you tomorrow after you sign the agreement." "Can I go to the hospital?" "Are you addicted to playing the victim now?" she jeered. "I'm not putting on an act. I genuinely want to die right now." The room went dead silent for a few seconds. Mom wasn't frightened, nor did she call Dad. She simply stared at me before chuckling. "Here we go again. Every time I ask you to move out, you threaten me with suicide. I told you, I'm not falling for your tricks again!" I balled my hands into fists. "I'm not threatening you. Every day, I wonder if you'd be happier if I didn't exist." Mom leaned down and got right in my face. "In that case, why don't you actually do something useful for once?" My breath instantly hitched. "Don't just move out. I want you gone for good. Dead or alive, I don't ever want to hear your name again. Since you claim you want what's best for me, prove it!" Dad had appeared at the threshold at some point. He had obviously overheard our conversation. I looked at him, calling for help one last time. "I can't control myself, Dad. Can you take me to the hospital right now? I'm afraid I'm really going to die!" He took a step forward. Mom immediately clutched her chest and began gasping for air. "Douglas Langston, she's doing it again; she just has to bring this up in the middle of the night. Does she want me to have another episode?" Dad stopped dead in his tracks. Grandpa and Grandma were also jolted awake and hurried over. Grandma hugged Mom and yelled at me, "Can't you just give it a rest for one night? Why are you dead set on making her life miserable?" I looked at Dad. "I'm not trying to provoke her. I'm begging you to save me!" Dad massaged his temples, exhausted. "Look at what you've done to your mom, Danica. Don't spew such nonsense again." The last thing I had left inside me snapped. I lowered my head and signed my name on the household separation agreement. Then, I added a line in the remarks section. "I voluntarily agree to leave forever and will never bother Evelyn Sanders again." Mom snatched the agreement from me and repeatedly checked my signature. At long last, she beamed. "If you'd just been this sensible from day one, none of this would've happened." Grandma breathed a sigh of relief as well. "That's enough, Evelyn. Don't waste your breath on her. From tomorrow on, let's just focus on living a good life together as a family." A family. As it turned out, I had never been included in that phrase for 18 years. The three of them surrounded Mom and led her out. Dad walked at the very end. He turned around and glanced at me, as if he had something to tell me. Yet, Mom called out to him from the hallway. He immediately closed my bedroom door. I didn't get a wink of sleep that night. Before daybreak, I placed the 18 birthday cards back into the tin box. I wiped every single card clean, removing the dirt from where Mom had trampled them. Then, I retrieved my ID card from Dad's study and left the house. No one realized I was gone. … I went to the children's amusement park that had been out of business for years. When I was five, Dad had promised to take me on the carousel. However, right before leaving the house, Mom suddenly had an episode. Wailing, she accused me of stealing her husband from her. In the end, she tore our tickets to pieces. The faded carousel was still in the same spot. I mounted a white horse and placed the 18 birthday cards beside me. I dialed Dad's number, but no one answered. Mom had just sent a picture of the whole family gathered around the breakfast table in the family group chat. Dad, Grandpa, and Grandma were gathered around her in the picture. Her caption read. "The root cause of my illness is gone. Today marks the first day of my new life!" Every single person in the chat congratulated her. I waited ten minutes. Dad didn't call back. I sent him one last message. "I'll listen to Mom, Dad. I'll never show up in your lives again." The message was marked as read. Yet, he only replied with three words. "Cut it out." I powered off my phone. Before my consciousness slipped away, I didn't think of Mom. I only thought of the five-year-old girl who had never gotten to ride the carousel. Cupping the shredded ticket in her little hands, she quietly reassured herself. "It's okay. Once Mom gets better, Dad will definitely take me to the amusement park again!" Yet, she waited all the way until she turned 18, and that moment never came. … When I opened my eyes again, I was standing beside the carousel. My body remained still on the back of the white horse, clutching the last birthday card in my hand. It hit me that I was truly dead. After the park attendant called the cops, Dad was the first person the officers contacted. When his phone rang, they were all at a restaurant, celebrating Mom's new life. Mom smiled as she told them that when she woke up that morning, even the air felt fresher than it had before. Dad picked up the phone. There was a brief silence on the other end before a solemn voice asked, "Am I speaking with Danica Langston's father? Your daughter has been found at the children's amusement park on the west side of the city." Dad tightened his grip on his phone. "What's happened to her?" I stood beside him, watching the smile slowly disappear from his face. The voice on the other end said, "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but she's passed away."