The sixth sense

Chapter 24

LILI

My father meets me at the station. I look at him in the distance, afraid to come closer. I saw pictures his children posted on their social media. One thing is to see him in the pictures, but to see him in reality is something completely different. He looks much older than the last time I saw him. I can see gray hair in a pool of black on his head, and wrinkles around his eyes. I take a deep breath and walk forwards, pulling a small suitcase behind me.
I clear my throat and say, "Hello."
He turns around abruptly. "I didn't see you leave the train," he says uneasily. "Hi." The word sounds like the most ridiculous thing in the world, considering years of silence between us. He looks at my suitcase and frowns.
"Does Mom know you're here? I didn't want to call her because . . ." He stops mid-word.
"Because you don't talk to her anyone," I finish the line for him. "Yes, I told her about my trip."
The truth is, I left a note for her. I know she would be pissed. But calling her, trying to explain why I needed to leave the city, was too much for one day.
"Let's go then," he says. "Do you need help with the suitcase?"
"No, thanks. It's small and isn't heavy at all."
We walk to the parking lot and come to a white Audi A4. Dad pulls a key from his pocket. I can see his uneasiness. I know exactly how he feels now because my feelings are no different from his. Where am I now? What am I doing here? Those are the questions I can't answer. Dad opens the trunk and reaches for my suitcase but I stop him and put the suitcase into the trunk. It's raining in Lausanne and the town meets me with gray clouds and puddles as if it's not happy I'm here at all.
We get into the car. Dad starts the engine and turns on the radio to break the intense silence between us. I pull a bag off my shoulder and my heart skips a beat. I can't find my red notebook. I'm sure it was in the bag. I start searching through the contents of my bag, hoping to find it.
"All good?" Dad asks, stopping at the red light.
"I lost something," I say. "Though it's probably for the best."
There's something meaningful about it. As if my life says I need to put a period on the page of my past and move on. I wonder if whoever finds will read it. Or will they send it straight to a trashcan? I must have dropped it somewhere on my way to Gare de Lyon station, or at the station, or in the train. It doesn't make any difference anymore.
Dad drives to an old district. I knew he lived somewhere there. My friends and I often went there for a walk, but I never once saw him there. This time, he waits for me to take my suitcase without offering his help. We go to the elevator and it takes us up to the fourth floor. Not a word being said. I'm sure he texted his family, letting them know we would be there any second. As soon as the elevator door opens, the apartment door flies open too.
"Welcome, Lili!" Margo, his wife, exclaims. She smiles nervously at me. "How was the ride?"
"Eventless," I reply, walking into a spacious hall.
Their two children are waiting for us there. The girl's name's Anna and she's three years older than me. The guy's name's Arno and he's a year older than me. Both took a lot from their mother—fair hair, brown eyes, snub noses, and thin lips. Arno smiles at me in a friendly manner and immediately gets a disapproving look from his sister. Then she notices my suitcase and purses her lips.
"Is she staying with us?" she asks her father. "After so many years of ignoring us as a family? What made her remember about us at all?" The notes of indignation in her voice surprise me. To be honest, I'm lost and I don't know what to say.
"Go to your room," our father says to her and Margo shoots her a warning look. Anna leaves and shuts the door to her room with a loud boom. 
"We're glad to see you," her brother's trying to fix the situation, smiling at me again.
I'm about to say, 'I can see that' but I hold those words for myself and smile back at him.
"Let me show you your room," Dad says and leads me to a guest room. There're blue curtains on the windows and just a few pieces of furniture: a bed, a table, and a chair—the essentials.
"We have only one bathroom. It's at the end of the hall," Dad says.
"Thank you."
"Do you need anything, Lili?" he asks, watching me closely. He's been doing that since the moment he saw me at the station and his gaze makes me feel uneasy. I feel like I have a unicorn horn on my head.
"I'm tired a little. I'd like to rest first," I reply, letting him know he's free to leave.
"Of course. If you need anything, we're here for you."
He leaves the room and closes the door behind him. I sit on the bed, wrinkling a blue bedspread beneath me and I ask myself again if it was a good idea to come here at all.
I stay in my room for the next couple of hours. I finish reading one book and start another one.
Someone knocks at the door. "It's me, Margo." She opens the door and looks inside the room. "The dinner's ready if you are hungry. Come join us."
First, I want to deny it but then I decide to be polite and accept her invitation. "With pleasure," I say, plastering a smile to my face.
We're having dinner in the dining room. There's a fireplace there with numerous family pictures on it. One of them makes me stop breathing for a moment. It shows my father and me. I'm five in it. We're somewhere in the forest. He's holding me in his arms; my small hands are wrapped around his neck. My beaming smile is the exact copy of his. I walk closer to the fireplace and take the picture. I can hardly remember the details of that day. I think we went swimming in a lake. I feel everyone's eyes on me.
"It was so long ago," I say, putting the picture where it belonged. "The smell's delicious," I say to Margo, trying to change the subject. It's hard to control my emotions. My hands are shaking and I clench my fists to stop it. Seeing the picture caught me by surprise because I was sure Dad didn't want to remember me, that he crossed me out of his life forever. Anna gives me another angry look but says nothing. I didn't expect her to blame me for ignoring them. My father left us to start a new life with them but I'm not going to lament about that. Maybe she wanted to be friends with me from the very beginning but I didn't want to see her at all. Neither her nor Arno or Margo. Though seeing them now doesn't bother me anymore. My anger's gone and I think I finally managed to get used to this complicated family situation. Or maybe it was my past that taught me a painful lesson and made me realize life wasn't as simple as it seemed. Or maybe it was the time that lessened the pain I once thought would never go away. I think with time, we learn how to hide it from everyone's eyes.
Margo gives me a plate with the salad and I put some onto my plate. Arno's telling something about the football match and the upcoming UEFA game. I can hardly follow him. A phone call breaks his monologue. Dad takes his phone and stares at the screen, frowning.
"It's your mom," he mumbles, surprised. I swallow hard, feeling my heartbeat accelerate. "Yes, Amelia, don't worry, she's with me now." He pauses. "We're having dinner." Another pause follows. "No, she didn't tell me anything." He pauses again. "Okay, talk to her." He gives me the phone; I stand from my chair and put the phone to my ear.
"Mom," I say quietly.
She begins to shout at me. "What were you thinking? How could you do that to me? What the hell happened to you? Why did you and Emma decide to live with your other parents? Lili, I need to know everything! Or I'll come to Lausanne and force you to tell me the truth!" her screaming makes my ear hurt.
"Emma's going to the States?" I repeat, shocked.
Mom sighs. "Her mother's in Paris now. And it's your turn to answer questions, and not mine," she says angrily.
"Mom, I'm gonna stay here for a while and finish my old school."
"No," she snaps. "You won't live there. You'll live with me. Period. Pack your things. I'll buy you a return ticket."
"Mom," I whisper. Something about my voice scares her because her voice softens.
"Yes, baby? Did someone hurt you?" I can hear the worry in her question. I feel a little guilty because no one hurt me and it's me who's the main villain of the story.
"I screwed up badly," I confess in a stranger's voice. Tears start to burn my eyes.
"What happened, darling?" she asks.
"I'm ashamed to tell you everything. I'm not ready to talk about it." I sob. "It was my fault, Mom . . ."
"Oh, baby, come back home. I'm sure whatever it is, we can fix it."
I shake my head even though she can't see me now. "I can't. Please don't insist. I'll stay here."
She says nothing to that. She'll never let me stay here. I'm sure all she wants now is to persuade me to come back home. But apparently, she decides to give me some time to think about everything.
"We'll talk about it later. Now pass the phone to your father."
I do what she tells me to do and excuse myself. "I'm not feeling well. I'd better go to my room."
I return to the guest room and get into the bed. Emma's staying with her mom now. No doubt Gerome was surprised to know about her decision. I ruined their small family.
I reach for my phone and see millions of missed calls from Mom. I turned the sound off when I was on the train and forgot to turn it back on later. Now I know why she decided to call Dad. I open one of my old dialogs with Emma. I don't know what to do. I close the dialogue window and then open it one more time. Then I decide to text her.
"No words are enough to describe how much I hate myself at this moment. I know my apology won't change anything. It's pointless. But I know you're the last person in the world I meant to make suffer. I'm staying with my father in Lausanne. You don't need to live with your mom. You won't see me again. Neither at school nor home. I promise you that."
I hit 'send' before I change my mind. Emma reads my message right away. I don't expect her to respond to it. I know she won't respond to it. If I were her now, I would block my number forever. I put the phone aside and close my eyes.
My life is a mess. Guilt's eating me alive and it hurts.
An unsure knock at the door breaks my thoughts.
"Lili, may I come in?" I hear Dad ask.
"Come in," I reply, still sitting in the bed.
He walks in and looks at me and then at the suitcase in the corner of the room. I didn't get a chance to unpack it.
"Mom told me about the attack." He looks nervous and can't find the right words to continue his speech. "I'm so sorry, Lili. You should have called me. Your mom was out of town and you had to stay in the hospital all alone. Why didn't you call me?" he looks lost.
I meet his stare. "How often did you call me?" My voice is cold and heartless, but I can't help it.
Dad lowers his head guiltily and I roll my eyes.
"Listen, you don't need to feel guilt or remorse. Everything was fine in the end. Mom came to the hospital and took me home."
"They almost raped you! They stole your things! And I didn't know anything about that!" he flares and makes a helpless gesture. "Lili, it's not how it's supposed to be! I should have met you at the station and take you home. You didn't need to walk in the middle of the night because you didn't have money to call a taxi!"
"You don't owe me anything," I interrupt him. "You made your choice many years ago. You've been ignoring my existence for years."
"I didn't know what to say! How to act in your presence! You met my every word and move with denial and hatred. I thought it would be better to give you the time you needed to get used to the situation."
"Oh, I see. It was my fault you didn't want to be my father anymore. Right?" I laugh hysterically.
"No, Lili. It was my damn fault!" he shouts and I back off. "I fell in love with a different woman and it was my fault I let you and your mom down. But what did you expect me to do? To stay and live with you and Amelia and keep lying to both of you?" he sighs and continues, "Lili, you're not a kid anymore. You're grown up enough to know life's far from being perfect. We aren't perfect and every one of us has a past full of mistakes and regrets. But how much longer are we going to look back? Maybe it's time to try . . ." he pauses.
I start crying uncontrollably. I didn't expect to lose it badly but I can't hold back my emotions any longer and let it all out with my tears. Dad looks puzzled. But his words about the mistakes hit the most painful wound. I hate myself for being so weak and emotional but I can't help it.
"Lili," he mumbles, raffling his hair. The move reminds me of Adam and the flow of my tears intensifies.
Dad sits down next to me and covers my knee with his palm. "It's gonna be okay, peanut. You'll see."
My childish nickname isn't helping a damn thing. On the contrary, it causes a new wave of remorse to raise inside me. The amount of pain and shame in me is crashing.
"I missed you so much," I say through my tears and he purses his lips in regret. "I went to Florence last fall . . . because I missed you that much. You forgot to call me on my eighteenth birthday. I was dying to get a call from you. I felt so helpless that day. I couldn't find enough courage to call you and tell you how angry I was and how much I missed you. Then I remembered about Florence—the city you used to live in . . . and there . . ."
"Come here," he whispers and wraps his arms around me.
"And there I met him . . ."
The irony of our conversation is staring back at me. I can't believe I'm telling my father about Adam. I was sure I wouldn't talk to him for the rest of my life.
"I fell so deeply in love with him," I say, sobbing. "I was such a fool. We spent our vacation in Rome. And then . . ." I feel like I'm losing control. I start hinting and Dad rubs my back gently.
I'm desperate to tell him everything and get the damn story about Adam out of my system. I need Dad to hear me out. To understand me and accept me.
"As you already know, I was attacked. They took my phone and I lost all my contacts. And then," I continue in a hoarse voice, "he turned out to be my step-sister's boyfriend and I kissed him. I acted like a bitch. She didn't deserve that . . . she was so kind to me . . ."
"It's okay, peanut," he whispers and somehow, it helps. His palms on my back, the warmth I feel radiating from him. It feels so unbelievably good to have him near now.
"I spent my whole life, hating Margo for what she did to our family. I hate you for all the tears Mom cried because of you. I hate you for betraying us. You were my everything! But I'm not any different from you and Margo. And I hate myself for it." My confession surprises him. I wait for him to get angry but he stays calm.
His eyes are full of emotions, but there are no traces of judgment or anger in them.
"I'll be right back," he says.
I look at him, puzzled, but he returns in just a few moments. He's holding a package in his hands. He shuts the door with his foot and smiles at me.
"It's your birthday present." I can see how nervous he is.
I frown and take the package from his hands. It's wrapped in beautiful paper with a red ribbon on top. I look at it and my hands start to shake.
"Open it."
I remove the packing paper and see a white box with an Apple logo on one side. I look at my dad and he shrugs.
"It's a notebook and it's . . ." he pauses for a second, "pink."
Tears glisten in his eyes. I inhale sharply.
Pink . . .
He remembered my dreamy present.
Dad sits on the bed again and rubs my knee gently. "I didn't know how to give it to you. On your birthday, I realized I didn't have your phone number. Then, when I found it, you ignored my calls. I wanted to see you and tell you how much I loved you. I also wanted to tell you I never stopped thinking about you. But you built such a huge wall between us. I didn't know how to become a part of your life again. I'm so sorry, Lili." The integrity of his confession is so touching.
I lean closer and wrap my arms around his neck, feeling his hands on my back.
"Mom says you need to continue your meetings with Bertrand and he thinks we need a family meeting. He said you didn't like your meetings with him because he often asked you about me."
I nod. Bertrand asked me about my relationship with my dad many times as if he was the main reason for my problems. Which is why I hated our conversations so much. It was as if he could read my every thought.
"I missed you so much," I say in a whisper. I hated myself for missing him and Bertrand did his best to remind me about my weakness and how much I needed my father to be back with us.
"I didn't know the divorce affected you so much," he says sadly. "I'm ready to do anything to fix our broken relationship. Even to go to Bertrand with you. I missed you too, peanut," he says, pinching my cheek and my eyes water again.
He looks at me intently as if trying to find the words to say to me.
"What happened in Paris wasn't your fault," finally he says. "Everything feels like a tragedy when you're young. Especially when it comes to your first love. But the world isn't black and white, Lili. The boundaries are vague and it's hard to see the limits. Guilt is a very complicated feeling. Many people prefer to ignore it, following their egotistical desires and needs. The fact that you feel guilty, that you're worried about someone you hurt, means you're a very kindhearted person. No matter how funny it sounds, considering the circumstances."
His words are firm and calming. Maybe he's right after all. I feel like a part of the weight on my shoulders disappears and breathing feels much easier again. His look is full of love, warmth, and support.
"I didn't know what to do when I realized I fell in love with Margo," Dad continues. "But I decided to be honest with you and Amelia. If you don't know what to do, Lili, just be honest with people around you. If you don't love someone, it's better to say it's over. And if your feelings are still strong, say about it. This is the best rule to follow. To be honest with yourself and those you care about. The truth can be painful, and you can't avoid it. But sweet lies are still lies and you can't build anything on them. Be honest, Lili," he repeats, squeezing my hand.