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Ugh, my father.
In all his glory. His hypocrisy. His hurtful thoughtlessness.
“Just because I invited him into my home doesn’t mean I’m no longer keeping an eye on him.”
“Edward, please…”
“It’s obvious that he’s not right for you, Alma! Everyone at this table is aware of it, but I’m the only one telling it like it is. You need a stable, respectable man who grew up in a family like ours and shares our values. Vadim King isn’t a bad man per se; he’s simply bad for you.”
“I’ve heard that so many times, Dad. You sound like a broken record.”
“He’s going to make you suffer, Alma. You’ll see.”
Thank God Lily manages to make me laugh all the way home. As we ride the metro, she reenacts the scene using her fingers, sings Billie Eilish and Mylène Farmer at the top of her lungs, and talks politics with a grumpy old man, completely oblivious to the weird looks she gets. My sister is like an antidepressant in human form.
Once we get home, she kicks off her leopard-print sneakers in the middle of the hallway and sprawls out on the couch. Already wielding the remote, she orders me to hurry up.
“Fe is picking me up in less than three hours, so if you want to watch The Hunger Games, it’s now or never!”
“Can we take a second to breathe?”
She motions for me to get a move on.
“I can’t believe you work in the film industry and you’ve never seen it!”
“I know. It’s unforgivable,” I concede, grabbing my phone after hearing it vibrate.
“Katniss, my queen, just so you know—I’m ashamed of my sister.”
Lily mutters something else from across the room, but I’m no longer listening. My eyes are fixed on the cryptic message that has just appeared on my screen.
[Unknown number
Stop dreaming. He’s too good for you.]
Unknown number. No name. I have no idea who just sent me this charming little message, but if it’s a joke, I’m not laughing.
“Whether you’re here or not, in ten seconds I’m hitting Play!”
I’m brought back down to earth by the sound of Lily getting more and more impatient on the other side of the living room. For a moment, I consider telling her about the message, but then decide against it. Either it’s a mistake, or someone is trying to mess with my head. In any case, I’m not going to dwell on it. I select the text and press Delete.
When Lily sees me come over and sit down on the floor in front of the couch, a victorious smile spreads across her lips. “You see? I always get what I want!”
When she starts the movie, I leap to my feet and pounce, my tickling fingers ready to torment her until she begs me to stop. Just like before. Like when she was ten and loved to tease me, and this was the only way I could get her to shut up. Fifteen years later, the technique is still effective. Red-faced and disheveled, she lets out a series of shrill screams as I pin her down.
“Okay! You win! Stop, Alma, I’m going to die!”
“That’s better.”
“You evil woman!”
“So, are we starting this movie or what? I’ve been waiting for you for ages.”
Her disgruntled expression makes me chuckle.
***
Halfway through The Hunger Games, while Lily digs her fingers into my thigh because she’s basically experiencing every single moment as if she were Katniss herself, my phone starts vibrating again. My sister, who would sell a kidney if it meant she could somehow become Jennifer Lawrence, shoots me a stern look and instructs me to focus on the movie. I ignore her.
