real! Son…we waited eight years… You’re finally home!”
Jason! My baby’s home!” Mom rushed over, grabbing Jason’s jacket, sobbing into his chest. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you
call?”
Jason’s eyes were red, too. ““I’m sorry, Mom. I just… I wanted to make something of
myself, make you proud. I didn’t want to
disappoint you.“”
Mom’s sobs intensified, eight years of grief
pouring out. Dad pulled her back, studying Jason carefully. “Were you hurt? In the
crash?”
“We searched for you, Jason. For eight years. Everyone else on that plane…we thought…”
L
Jason sat them down on the couch and
thumped his chest. ““I’m fine, Mom, Dad. I wasn’t on the plane.” He grinned and pulled a pregnant woman forward. “Mom, Dad, this is my wife, Sarah. Your daughter–in–law.”
Dad, with his impeccable memory, recognized Sarah instantly. She was the girl they’d forced Jason to break up with eight years ago. His voice trembled. “So…you’ve been with her?
All this time?”
Jason dropped to his knees, pulling out
expensive gifts, begging for forgiveness. He
admitted it. He’d faked his own death to
elope with Sarah.
Eight years. Eight years of their hatred, their
accusations Why couldn’t it have been you?
<
The forced apologies at Jason’s grave. The
plain rice and water diet. The near–fatal
allergic reaction. Mom’s beatings in the hospital. The isolation, the name–calling, the bullying… The constant guilt, the
nightmares… Dad’s graying hair, Mom’s
stooped posture… My death. All for this?
Mom glared at Dad. ““He’s home, John! He’s safe! And we’re going to be grandparents!
What else matters?“”
Dad nodded, his lips pressed together. “He’s
home.” They transformed back into the
loving, doting parents I’d always craved. The
warmth of their affection made me ache with
envy. They could be loving and supportive.
Why hadn’t they been like that with me?
When I was bullied at school, Mom had
<
scolded me. “Why do they only pick on you,
Ashley? It takes two to tango. You must be
doing something to provoke them.” I’d looked
at Dad, pleadingly. Mom had sneered. “Look,
John, she’s doing that pathetic little–victim
act again. It’s so tiresome.” Dad had said
