He came over every day before I got home from school. I could smell him, I could hear his words in the walls, hear his footsteps still resonating on the stairs. As the bus pulled up to my street I took my time sending my goodbyes to every friend on the bus. The bus driver gave me her usual eye roll. When I opened the door to our house I called for my mom repeatedly. Where the hell was she? I went into her room and saw nothing. There was no sign of life. The windows were closed, the bed was perfectly made, and half of the clothes were out of the closet. Sitting down on the bed, I saw my mother’s wedding band resting on the nightstand. I laid in my parents’ bed until I heard my dad come home. I heard him yell my name a couple times before his face appeared in the doorway. He laid down next to me and we held hands as we stared up at the ceiling. I’m pretty sure dad and I could communicate telepathically. I didn’t have to tell him. He had felt the presence in and out of our house for the past year. I knew eventually I’d have to say goodbye to my parents’ ongoing, tumultuous relationship, but I didn’t think I’d have to say goodbye to my mom. But in reality I guess I never even got to do that.