Katia waves to some of the men posted on guard, and they barely spare me a glance.
When we get into a silver sedan, parked next to a row of other expensive-looking cars in the driveway, I hold my breath and stare at the gates. Slowly, they creak to life, and we drive through. Katia keeps both eyes on the road and ignores me as the world outside rushes past in a blur of shapes and colors. At the traffic light, she taps her fingers against her thighs impatiently.
I press my face against the glass and try to calm my racing heart.
I know Katia isn’t doing this out of kindness.
If anything, she’s probably hoping I get kidnapped again, so she can be rid of me, but I’m still thankful to her for agreeing.
I’ve never gone this long without seeing my dad, and not being able to talk to him drives me crazy.
Regardless of how things are between us, I need him to know that I love him.
A lump rises in my throat as I focus on the car next to us and see an older man with salt-and-pepper hair tapping the wheel. He turns to the little girl next to him, and the two exchange a smile full of love and mischief. My heart aches as I look away and blink back the tears.
Katia huffs. “Get a grip. There are people out there who don’t have families.”
“I know.”
She shoots me a look. “You have no idea how lucky you are.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat and shove my hair out of my eyes. “I liked it better when you were threatening to kick my ass.”
Katia scoffs. “Yeah, well, I’m only giving you this advice because if you start crying, I’ll have to throw you out of the car.”
I cross my arms over my chest and give her a scowl.
The traffic light turns green. She presses down on the gas, and the car lurches forward with a screech. Katia says nothing as we take a series of turns, venturing deeper into the city.
Eventually, the tall metal buildings give way to two-story Victorians with manicured lawns and gravel driveways. Katia stops in front of my parents’ house. She turns off the engine and turns to face me with a frown. Her eyes sweep over my face, and the gleam in her eyes leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I stiffen and wait for the next blow, but it never comes.
“Don’t make me drag your dead body out of there,” Katia says with a dismissive wave. “I don’t want to get blood on the leather seats.”
I shove the door open and glance down both sides of the empty street. “I’ll try not to bleed out.”
“Just don’t do it in the car,” Katia fires back before looking away from me.
She’s scanning the area for threats, and although I know it’s irrational and ridiculous to be grateful to her, I’m still glad she’s around.
Asking Katia to teach me to shoot is out of the question when she’d probably be happy to watch me shoot myself.
Anything to keep her hands clean and get you out of the way. You need to keep a close eye on her.
I force myself to place one foot in front of the other until I’m standing outside the small gate at the front lawn. The lock gives way with a rickety sound as I push it open and keep moving. Suddenly, I see myself taking the same path on my way home from school, pigtails brushing my shoulders. Then, I see myself on my first trip home from college, huffing and panting as I drag a laundry bag behind me.
At the top of the stairs, I pause and inhale.
It feels like another lifetime.
I’m still lost in the memory of how it felt to come home anytime when the door swings open, revealing my father with a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. The blood drains from his face when he sees me, and his mouth falls open. His mouthmoves a few times, a muscle working in his jaw, but no sound comes out.
After what feels like forever, he lowers the book he’s holding.
“It’s good to see you, Dad.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I tried calling you, but you weren’t picking up.”
