"I drove up to your block of flats in a rental car. In the late afternoon. I had a nice, thick beef sandwich with me. It was pretty good. I chewed on it while I looked out at your window. Second floor, three-story block. Your estate was a veritable maze of such grey buildings. I looked disdainfully at the graffiti-covered wall, at the bench from which you could almost see splinters sticking out with the naked eye. I thought to myself then, Holy shit, does my daughter really live in a place like this?"

"Later they renovated it," I interjected, trying at all costs to defend my hometown. "Our neighborhood I mean. They painted the blocks colorful, changed the benches, built a beautiful playground and planted lots of trees and bushes."

Hey, it really wasn't that bad.

My father glanced at me skeptically.

"Do you know what I was thinking at the time? I was furious. I imagined Gabriela would provide you a house like in Desperate Housewives. You know, with gossipy neighbors all around, where kids play in the street and there's a fucking Volvo in every driveway." My father shook his head. "I thought to myself, after all, she is my daughter, she should live like a queen, they should roll out red carpets everywhere she goes. Not some fucking moderately safe, unattractive neighborhood.

"I remembered it as attractive," I burbled under my breath in defiance.

Dad smiled slightly. I noticed in him the same thing that I sometimes saw in brothers. Such an absolute habit to luxury and splendor. I would even venture to say that Cam is no less spoiled by a life of affluence than the boys. For him, apparently, a property without acres of land, a garage of the size of an airplane hangar, and a million two hundred bedrooms doesn't deserve to be called home.

"I stayed in the parking lot and watched as it slowly filled up with cars. People were coming back from work. It was a rather overcast day with an additionally depressing aura. And I was still stewing over the fact my daughter was living in some town of fucking sadness. In my mind's eye I could already see how you grow up to be such an adult with no desire or motivation to live. What a nightmare."

I raised my eyebrows because something didn't seem right.

"Are we talking about the same place? Where I grew up, the neighbors were always very kind and welcoming to me. Mr. Nelson even let me steal cherries from his garden."

Cam nodded, in an amicable way, as if he did not want to get into an argument with me about this particular topic.

"All right, princess, maybe I am exaggerating a little. But in my head, that's how I remember it, to be honest. I was completely freaked out." Father shrugged his shoulders.

I remained silent as I contented myself with his compromise.

"Anyway, I was waiting for the evening, so the streets get emptier. I was sitting, waiting, watching. At some point, a car drives up, an ordinary Ford, and stops near the gate. It doesn't park, it just stands there. A few minutes pass and suddenly Gabriela comes out of the block." Dad rolled his eyes at the memory, while my own lit up, as they always did when he talked about my mom. "Her hair was tied back, really nicely, she wore make-up, and a long dress. A navy blue one, with a denim jacket thrown over her shoulders. I stared at her like an idiot for a few, long seconds. I remembered how she had once enchanted me and that she was not only a beautiful woman, but also how wise! Such a gem. Then she smiled. Damn, it made my heart stop." Cam took a drag on his cigar, looking off into the distance, probably visualizing in his mind what he had seen with his own eyes years ago.

I remembered mom's smile, too. It was beautiful, always so genuine. It was the kind of smile that was worth having wrinkles for.

"Well," Father nodded his head. "Then I saw that she was smiling just like that at the guy in the car. And he was such a fucking, you know, classic buster." Here he glanced suddenly at me and grunted. "Sorry, Hailie, I should watch my mouth."

I waved my hand dismissively and smiled pleasantly. Vulgarities had long since ceased to impress me. Living under the same roof with the twins and Dylan, I had managed to get used to them completely.

"Okay, so, Gaby got in that car there and exchanged a few words with the guy. They didn't do a kiss-buzz, so I deduced that they were just starting to date. They immediately drove off. And I was left to frown even more, because after all, my male pride had suffered. It's so silly, my Hailie, I know, because after all, I wasn't with your mom anymore, but somehow it kind of just stung me..." Cam put his free hand on his ribs. "Well, I just simply got pissed off."

I listened to him in silence. This was a tough nut for me. On the one hand I wanted to defend mom, on the other hand I knew that she was not blameless and I felt sorry for my father. After all, they were grown-up people, they should have worked it out between themselves somehow, like come on!

"When was that? How old was I?" I asked suddenly, frowning.

"Almost four."

Oh. Almost four. I don't remember much from so early in my life. Certainly no fathers.

"And what was next?" I shifted to sit more comfortably and squirmed as my knees hurt. When I bent them for too long and then wanted to straighten them, I felt discomfort because of my healing wounds.

"It was getting dark. And I went back to staring at your windows. A light soon came on in one of them. A woman's figure flashed twice, so I figured your grandmother must be in there with you, or possibly a nanny. I was guessing it was your grandma. I knew that Gabriela lived with her mother."

Cam stared at the end of his cigar for a moment and it was impossible to read his thoughts, which were obviously running around in his head.

"This street of yours became very gloomy as darkness fell. It was only lightened by lamps, but every other one was out of order, so the effect was quite eerie, though I didn't complain there. Even better, because I always feel more at ease under the cover of night. It's like a good, loyal friend who will keep your every secret. That's why I waited for it to come. It was October, so it happened pretty quickly. The sidewalks deserted with it, because your neighborhood was inhabited by the most ordinary people in the world, who after returning from a boring job already set their alarm clocks to get up again in the morning, and the peak of their evening attraction is watching a program on TV. A few people were just hanging around with their dogs for one last walk. Somehow, then, I decided it was the time to act."

I streightened my back again, feeling the excitement rising in me.

"I stepped out of the car and leaned against it like the world's biggest slacker. In reality, I was a little nervous. Not about your grandmother or the neighbors, but about the fact that I was about to see my baby girl in person. That I would be holding her. I literally had shivers down my spine. That's why I still smoked. At that time I smoked a lot." Saying that, my father waved his cigar. "I started smoking the most after my wife died. You know, the murder, the five kids, having a daughter I'd never met. Work. There wasn't a second that I wasn't stressed. I was suffocating under tons of nerves, every day, every hour. To the point where I almost got used to it. We almost became friends, heh," my father joked, probably because of seeing my overly serious face. He wanted to loose the atmosphere a bit. I listened to him carefully, because I preferred not to miss anything and he didn't make me laugh, but guessing that he expected me to react, I smiled after a while with a completely crooked, artificial and inept smile.

So Cam sighed and may have already begun to regret starting the story, but he knew it would be inelegant to back out now, so he continued.

"I finally finished the cigarette, threw it on the ground, stepped on it. I rubbed my chin. I shrugged my shoulders to loosen them. And I even shot my knuckles like I was going to some kind of fight. All in all, you never know." He lifted one corner of his mouth gently, which is also what Vincent did sometimes. He and his father were remarkably similar. "And then I moved ahead, towards your building. On the way, I patted the pockets of my leather jacket to make sure I definitely had my car keys and gun there."

I'd lived with my brothers too long to be amazed at the word "gun" now, although knowing that my father, in pursuing his plan to supposedly get me back, considered being armed to be necessary, gave me rather mixed feelings. Of course, I kept listening.

"I entered it and began to climb the stairs slowly. The light came on, you had motion detectors there. I didn't like that because, as I said, I felt safer in the dark. At least I could look around so I wouldn't miss a detail. Though honestly, all these corridors were the same. Long, empty and uninteresting."

I stared at my father, imagining him in our apartment building. How he was climbing the stairs, the same stairs I myself had mounted for most of my life. He was there too! Hailie from the past, if she heard that, would have a heart attack. And Hailie from the present wasn't far behind it either.

"How did you get in there without a key?"

Cam raised an eyebrow.

"It was s a piece of cake. I called the intercom at a random number. I introduced myself as a neighbor who had forgotten his keys and some woman let me in before I could even finish my sentence. People should be more careful, but they're not."

Suddenly the beaded curtain on the door moved and rattled as Blanche came out of the house to us. She had one wrinkled hand controllably outstretched in front of her as usual, but in the other she held a ceramic platter, pink with gold outlines. In it there were mini croissants with white chocolate, dusted with a fine layer of powdered sugar.

"I have a few left, here you go," she announced, pulling the platter in front of her, which Cam immediately took over from her, then set it on the table right under my nose. "I saved some especially for you," Blanche said with, as usual, a grumpy note in her voice.

My father and I thanked her because it was quite a feat. The grandma had baked the croissants for the twins' farewell breakfast, and not only did they gorge themselves on them at the table like crazy, but they also smeared the leftovers in a box so they'd have a snack for the travel. That's why I doubly appreciated Blanche's efforts and her cunning that she still managed to keep something left.

The grandmother wasn't going to make small talk with us, because she immediately hid back in the house, and my father and I returned to our conversation. Fortunately, he was the one doing most of the talking, because I could shamelessly stuff my mouth with delicious sweetness. Once I had stimulated my taste buds, I threw him an urging glance.

Before he could pick up the topic again, he smiled slightly at me.

"Well... I finally stood at your door. A door like a door, it would be easy for me to deal with it, if someone, I don't know, for example, didn't want to open it kindly." That statement sent shivers down my spine. "I knocked. I covered a judas hole with my finger, although your grandmother must have had it for decoration only anyway, because she had no problem opening the door for me without checking who am I. It pissed me off even more. That my daughter was being taken care of by someone so gullible and careless. Irresponsible."

"She claimed she'd never met you." I said, purposely chewing faster to interject because I didn't want to hear all the negative adjectives Cam used to describe my grandmother.

"You know, it wasn't like I was over there having tea with her and talking about some bullshit. She didn't know who I was, but she figured it out pretty quick. She wanted to slam the door in my face, but I wouldn't let her. After all, it wasn't the first time I'd fucking barged into someone's house uninvited. I mean, I came in. Not the first time. Christ, I'm sorry, Hailie, I'm kind of fucking vulgar." Cam rubbed his forehead. "It's the emotions. I swear too much. Just don't repeat after me, princess."

"I won't," I promised.

He smiled at me, but then quickly turned serious.

"I knew for sure it was your grandmother because she looked a lot like Gabriela. I forced my way inside, she didn't stand a chance. Without a word I walked from room to room, completely ignoring her. And she followed me everywhere. And she kept whispering frantically, telling me to get out, that it was an intrusion, that I can't do that, and all that crap. Do you know why she didn't scream?" I shook my head when he stopped for a moment. "Because you were asleep. She didn't want you to wake up." My heart clenched tighter. "Yeah, and I didn't give a shit about anything, because once I got something into my head, it was going to be my way, always. I was in the living room, where the muted TV glowed, in the kitchen, where the smell of dried mushrooms wafted, whole bunches of them hanging over the stove. On the refrigerator were these colorful magnets for kids. In the shape of letters. Like an alphabet, you know. And the next door I opened led to your bedroom. That's when I stopped."

I saw it. I saw it all in my head. After all, I was wonderfully familiar with the layout of this apartment. I imagined every step my father took. And the way my grandmother followed him, wailing half-heartedly. And then how he stood at the threshold of my childhood bedroom. My father was just evoking those memories too, I recognized it from his staring eyes.

"The whole apartment was surprisingly cozy. And your little room was adorable. You had all those little pieces of furniture. Lots of toys. All neatly arranged. I thought to myself, you must be like Vince, he's a perfectionist too."

Interesting.

"And then I noticed a tiny figure on the bed. The room was dark, but there was some light coming in from the hallway through the open door. I saw you. For the first time. You were lying curled up under a blanket in a kind of, I don't know what the fuck it was, some kind of squinty-eyed giraffes. Your hair was scattered on the pillow. Dark. My hair, not red like Gabriela's, just my dark hair. I stood there like I was in a daze and all I could think to myself was, wow, that's her, that's my girl."

Engrossed in the story more and more, I didn't even feel the tears come to my eyes.

"I was pulled out of my trance by your grandmother, who grabbed my arm, but I immediately snapped out of it and moved towards you. And she started whining again, telling me to leave you alone, that you were feeling unwell, that you were sick and had a fever, that it was the flu and that because of me you would get pneumonia. I moved closer to your bed, completely deaf to her words. I looked at your face, the tiny nose, the plump cheeks, the fan of eyelashes. You were perfect. And I already knew there was no fucking way I was getting out of there without you. So I took you in my arms. Gently, so that the blanket would still cover you. You moved, but you leaned against my shoulder and you were still asleep. That's when your grandmother panicked. She started talking louder and louder. I didn't particularly care for her howling."

I couldn't move. I even forgot about croissants. I sat and stared at my father, who in turn was no longer looking at me. He, in spirit, was now in the past, just over twelve years ago. I, on the other hand, listened and listened and didn't believe what I was hearing. I tried to visualize my almost four-year-old self, sleepy, in the arms of a tall, bearded guy clad in a black leather jacket and with a pistol behind it.

"I was walking toward the front door, and your grandmother overtook me and flattened herself against it like a roller. She said she wouldn't let me go. And there was that pneumonia talk again. I told her to get out of my way. And she didn't move. And I had no time to waste. Then I pulled out my gun."

I took in air loudly. Cam's fingers tightened on the railing.

"You threatened my grandmother?" I whispered weakly.

"That happened in a moment. I took out that gun first, and then you woke up. You looked around unconsciously. You really did not feel well. You didn't quite understand what was happening. Your grandmother started chirping something to you, telling you not to be scared, I don't know why the fuck she'd do that, because you weren't scared at all, just more like confused. And I stroked you through that disheveled hair, then gently pressed your head back against my chest, hoping you would go back to sleep. With the same hand in which I held the gun." Cam laughed without a shred of humor. "Yes, my Hailie, I juggled the gun against my baby girl's head like a thoroughbred clown."

I was silent.

"You drifted back. And I knew I really had to get going now. Then I pointed the gun at your grandmother. I said I was taking you and she was staying, alive or dead. Her choice. She understood that I was serious. That's why, when I cocked the gun to show I was losing patience, she moved away. I didn't wait for an invitation, I just ran out of that apartment as fast as I could. I ran down the stairs. I wrapped you tighter with your blanket because I was afraid you would seriously get sicker. "

I kept thinking about my poor grandmother. She was as gentle as a lamb, she didn't deserve such a rough treatment. How much fear she must have had there!

"I rented a car with a car seat, so I put you there right away. My hands were trembling, I couldn't hit the fasteners. I put a blanket over you. It slipped off. I covered you again. I cursed in my mind like a sailor. Well, and then I got behind the wheel and drove away without looking back. I knew for sure your grandmother was standing in the window, already with a phone to her ear."

So he took me? He really took me. When he started telling this story, I didn't think he had gone this far in carrying out his plan. Why did my four-year-old, weakened brain have to be so dumb not to remember such an important event!

"I kept glancing at you in the mirror nonstop. Kidnapping you in such an unbalanced state as I was in at the time was one of the most idiotic things I've ever done, and I still think so." Cam shook his head to himself. "I'd been a horrible fuck-up. I planned to be on the road all night. I always liked to drive at night. It clears my head. I figured you'd sleep and I'd shake it off and get a little pick-me-up. Ultimately, I wanted to catch a plane home, but that was later and definitely not from a nearby airport. However, I was thwarted because you woke up in the middle of the drive. And we hadn't even left town yet... You were coughing a little bit. Your cheeks were flushed. You were trembling. Finally, you started mumbling something under your breath. You wanted to see your mom. But you were too exhausted from your illness to put up much resistance."

Now I was trembling, too. I bit my lip.

"I had been fighting with my thoughts until the very end, but something had touched me. I was like, no, I couldn't be such a jerk. I didn't want to hurt you, really. I wanted you to be warm and comfortable. To make you feel well. I didn't anticipate that you'd be sick. You were breathing so heavily. You should have been in bed and I knew it. I panicked, Hailie, that I would make you feel worse."