Lily and I continued our walk home, exchanging bits of small talk here and there. Well—I was walking. Lily was skipping with a melodic hum as her steps splashed water all over my legs. I really didn't want my clothes to get dirty, but I didn't bother telling her to stop.
Just as we reached a four-way stop sign, a cop car stopped in front of us. Lily and I stopped as well, waiting for him to pass, but he waved us across, so we followed.
As we crossed, I couldn't help but stare at it from the corner of my eye.
A cop car in this neighbourhood? What are the chances of that?
Before I could dwell on it too long, however, Lily gave them a wide wave of appreciation, making me chuckle slightly. It was such a childish thing to do, but I used to do those things as well, so I didn't comment on it.
Once we made it to the other side, a heavy silence settled over us, the sound of rain pattering against my umbrella acting like static, pulling me back into my thoughts.
This wasn't true my whole life, but at least right now, I lived in a good neighbourhood. So much so that it was almost boring. Which made the fact that a cop showed up here—on today of all days—peculiar.
Still, maybe they were just patrolling. It'd be easy to believe that—if the image of Mei standing at my front door, soaked to the bone, hadn't surfaced in my mind.
Yeah—I'm not buying that.
What were the chances that on the exact day she ran to me and cried for the first time was also the day a cop turned up in my neighbourhood? It could be a coincidence—but I was more inclined to believe otherwise.
Suddenly, Lily spoke, her tone faintly nostalgic, forcing my attention onto her.
"It's been a while since we've spoken to a cop, hasn't it?"
I turned to her. She was staring off into the depths of the rain, as if she were gazing at something just outside the rainfall.
She then let out a lighthearted giggle, the way you did over a fond memory.
"Seeing that car again reminded me of the time we got child protective services called on us. Remember that?"
To anyone else, this would have been shocking news, or something that they wouldn't want to recall. Yet, Lily did so with a humored smile.
"I remember being so scared when that guy came to our house and started asking us questions about our family. What a day, am I right?"
Now that she mentioned it, I did remember having child protective services called on us; it was when I was in the sixth grade. But strangely enough, I didn't remember any of the details. I thought something that serious would stick with me forever, but I guess not.
"Do you remember what he asked?" I said, slightly curious. "I don't really remember anything from that day."
"Of course I remember," Lily replied, lightly kicking a puddle mid-skip and shattering her own reflection. "I told you—I was really scared. So it's no wonder that I remember everything."
As much as I'd like to know what happened, I decided to tease her first. After all, making fun of my sister was my number one priority.
"Well, you have no one to blame but yourself. Maybe if you didn't go around telling teachers that Dad hit you, it wouldn't have happened."
Lily clicked her tongue as she kicked me with her soaking wet boot. "Oh, shut the hell up! I thought it was a normal thing! And I know you did too!"
I didn't respond to that—because she was right. As a kid, I assumed everyone got hit simply because I did. It was only when my friends started talking about being 'grounded' or 'getting their devices confiscated' that I learned not everyone got hit.
"Speaking of," Lily added, her earlier anger softening. "Do you remember when Dad stopped hitting us?"
I paused, thinking for a moment.
"...Not really."
I tried to place it, but in my memory, it just… cut. One second, I was getting hit, and the next, he never laid a hand on me again. If anything, I could picture him laughing with that annoyingly obnoxious cackle he always had.
It was easy to just say 'he's changed,' but I didn't believe in that. No one changed that fast—if at all—and especially not one this drastic.
Still, we were getting off topic, so I decided to drop it and steered us back to the one at hand.
"Anyway, you were saying something about our interrogation."
"Oh, right."
Lily rested a hand on her chin, carefully recounting the memory. "I remember we were separated from Mom and Dad. This was when we still lived at our old house, so they were upstairs while we were in the living room."
As if recalling something funny, Lily let out a genuine laugh. "I remember before that, though, Mom told us not to say anything stupid."
"Huh. I kind of remember that, too."
Now that she'd brought it up, I actually remembered that part clearly. We were at the restaurant, and Mom was talking to us in the back room. She was making us memorize the things we were supposed to say, telling us that we would get taken away and never see them again if we messed up.
I could clearly picture the way her brows drew together and the way the creases on her forehead deepened to reveal a look I'd never seen from her before. It was a look that lacked any trace of her usual grace and gentleness. But what stuck with me the most, even after all these years, was the way she looked at me. Her eyes unfathomably dark, even darker than tonight's storm, yet at the same time... turbulent.
Even now, I couldn't quite describe it.
"Anyway," Lily said, moving on. "The first thing he asked was what happened. The second he did, I just burst into tears."
I winced, and I couldn't help but reel back. "Yikes. That probably looked so bad from his perspective."
Lily laughed again, so loud in fact that it washed away the patter of the rain. "Yeah. He said something along the lines of, 'I can't help you if you don't say anything.'"
"Wow. Looks like he was really trying to bait a self-confession out of you."
"I know," Lily said, her laughter tapering off, letting a quiet settle into the space between us.
"After that, I couldn't say anything at all."
"What?" I asked, genuinely surprised. "Then how did we not get taken away from our parents? That looks terrible."
Lily let out a small, airy sigh. "Yeahhhhh. It would've been if I were alone—but you were there with me, remember?"
"Uh, no. That's why I'm asking."
I doubted kid me would have been able to do much even if I was there, so I couldn't help but be a little skeptical.
"Well, for starters," Lily said in the tone of someone narrating the climax of some Korean drama, "you nudged me in the shoulder and told me to stop crying because it looked bad—but in our native language, not the language we speak in this country. Being an immigrant family has its perks, I guess."
Huh, I guess I didn't change that much after all, if kid me was saying the same thing I thought right now.
I stayed silent as I let Lily continue.
"Anyway, after that, you just started answering for me. If he tried to talk to me, you'd say 'my little sister clearly isn't in her right mind to talk' and use reasons like she's scared of strangers and confrontation to take over. And when he asked you something, you answered without a single stutter."
I couldn't help but be just a little bit impressed with myself. I guess I underestimated little me too much.
Before I could say that, however, Lily added one more thing. "The last question he asked was the only one I could answer."
"And which one was that?"
Lily didn't hesitate in the slightest. In fact, she had stopped skipping by now and was walking with firm, confident strides.
"He asked if we loved and wanted to stay with our parents."
For a split second, my grip on the umbrella loosened, and it tilted closer to Lily's side, exposing my shoulder even further and soaking it through. It was a shame. I really liked the sweater I was wearing right now. But just this once, I didn't care.
Do we love and want to stay with our parents, huh?
The answer to the second question was simple. Yes, I'd rather stay with them. Moving out to a new family, or some sort of community home, sounded like a lot of work that I didn't want to do. At least here, I knew that I'd be fed and have a roof over my head.
But the first one… 'Do I love them?'
I thought and thought, but the answer didn't come. For the first time—
I don't know.
I was grateful to them for what they'd done. At least, compared to other kids out there, I would consider myself fortunate.
Mom did feed me and did everything she could. If anything, everything might be an understatement. It would be no exaggeration to say she mothered me like her life was on the line. Either way, she did try—too hard—but she did put in effort. And that was undeniable.
Dad, meanwhile, worked like a slave. No vacation time, six days a week, nine hours every shift. He was definitely more ruthless when I was a kid. But now—while I still remember everything he'd done—to say those were the only things I recalled would be a lie.
At the very least, right now, he did… care.
But still…
To say that I love them…
I didn't know. And no matter how hard I thought, the answer wouldn't come.
All that happened in a split second. The very next moment, I tightened my grip on the umbrella once more and brought it back into place.
"So," I asked, my voice as flat and unserious as it always was with my sister. "What did we say?"
Lily scoffed. "What a stupid question. Of course, I answered with 'yes.' And as for you…"
Lily spun around toward me, her black hair dancing through the air before settling behind her—revealing just another everyday smile.
"You said the same thing."