Erased

4

"I'm fine," I whined for the hundredth time. "Really, Dad. Please stop."

My father finally let go of my head, which he was inspecting the entire ride home to Paris. He arrived around an hour after Dr. Moreau last checked me, and he just couldn't stop asking me how I was feeling ever since.

"Marinette, do you even understand how worried I was?" He shook his head. "You're everything I have left, and I even had a cake for you back home"

He brought me to his arms once more, and I shut my eyes as I breathed in his scent of vanilla and strawberry. My favorite. I have always felt lucky to have a father who is such an amazing baker. He could open his own shop right in the middle of town, but he had other plans for our lives ever since Mom disappeared. We don't talk about her much either. It wasn't a topic we liked to linger on. 

Dad took the opportunity to graze his hand over the bandage, and said, "Are you really sure, though?"

"Yes!" I groaned. 

I pulled my head forward to examine the room a bit more. Looking back at him, I asked, "Where is Takara?"

"She's back home watching over Kaito," he replied. "We were all worried about you."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you all."

"None of it was your fault, Marinette." Dad stroked my cheek. "We're all glad you'll soon be fine. Then, you can finally come home."

Dad drove out of Vosges the very next day. Dr. Moreau found nothing else to observe in my skull, so I was allowed to go home. During the ride back to Paris, I took in the countryside sceneries, bursting with light and color. The evergreens and the sprawling lakes somehow gave me a familiar feeling, although I'm sure that I've never been in this place before. I haven't left Paris, so these new places were unusually both new and familiar, as if they were from a dream I once had. The trip back to the city took almost three hours and a half, then we passed by the traffic for another half an hour. The light pastel buildings on the way already reminded me of home, and soon enough, we were already there.

"You ready, Mari?" Dad exhaled as he parked right near the curb of our home.

I looked out the window to see our quaint three-story house. It was just as I could remember, except the roof was now bright lemon yellow, instead of its original faded blue.

"Yeah," I replied with a nod.

He jogged up to the other side of the car to help me out, when Takara and Kaito came in bursting from the front door yelling, "Marinette!"

Hugging them both, I beamed, "It's good to see you both again."

Takara and Kaito were the children of Aunt Ada, the one who took me in when I was in New York. In short, we traded places during those six months, since Takara and Kaito wanted to study here in France. I doubt that they would be going back anytime soon, though, as I've heard that they really loved the places and the culture in the country.

Takara was roughly a year older than I was. From the two of the siblings, she was the one who was mostly dispatched around the country. She has been passed back and forth by her mother and her father who were divorced from each other ever since she was six. She would spend half the year with her mother in France, until Aunt Ada moved to New York, then the other half with her father in Japan. Finishing her schooling was quite difficult, so when she finally turned eighteen, she settled herself in Paris— almost the midpoint from where her parents were. Takara also convinced her mother to let her take care of her seven-year-old brother, Kaito, so he wouldn't go through the same confusing tennis game that she went through with her parents. Luckily, Dad and I were here in Paris, and we welcomed them with open arms.

"Are you alright? We were so worried, and I couldn't help but tear up to see you right now." She held me by my shoulders, her face turning a shade of red.

"I'm okay, Takara. Don't worry about me." I smiled.

"That's a relief!" Her face immediately relaxed and changed expression. "How was Mom?"

"Just the same, I guess. Does she really eat that much pizza?"

She rolled her eyes with a small laugh, "Ah, normal Mom being overly addicted to flat bread with tomato sauce and mozzarella."

Dad laughed along with us, then motioned all of us to get inside the house. We were unable to gather any luggages of mine from the crash, but I did leave a lot of clothes behind, so it was quite alright. 

The evening was spent with a lively catching-up chat, consisting of me talking about life in America, and Takara and Kaito's experiences around the city. They both talked about their difficulty in understanding the language, since they could learn so little with only half the year using that language, then the other half using Japanese. Dad also mentioned that he got them a special class for basic French. I tested Kaito's knowledge, and he was still a bit rusty, but he learned a lot faster than his older sister. Takara, on the other hand, was already confused between conversing in English and Japanese, so adding French to her list was going to be a handful.

"How do you even get the accent right?" She groaned in defeat after Kaito spoke out a fluent-sounding phrase.

For as long as I could remember, it was just Dad and I in this house, but with these two new additions to our family, I wouldn't have it any other way. 

At night, Dad was sitting right beside me as he tucked me in bed, as what he would normally do to his seventeen-year-old. I missed him the most. I'd given up the opportunity to dream big to come back in his arms. I'd trade everything for him. 

"This place is getting a little too small for you." He chuckled as he looked at my baby pink walls adorned with all sorts of knickknacks from my childhood.

There were several of my old drawings posted, a few photos of me years back, and that one photo of me and my mom. I was four. In the photo, she was guiding me towards herself as I took little steps forward. It only showed half of her face in a candid shot. She was beautiful. Her hair was tied up in a messy ponytail, her eyes smiling as she looked over at me with welcoming arms. She really seemed to have loved Dad and I. I could see it in Dad's eyes, too. They both loved each other very dearly. And that was what kept me wondering all my life... What happened? Why did she leave? 

Dad couldn't talk about it to me, as well. He'd always change the subject. He always seemed hurt, as much as he tried to cover up his feelings for my sake.

I breathed in all the happenings over the past hours.

You're awake, Mari.

You're okay.

It's going to be alright, I told myself.

"I don't think I could ever let you out of my sight ever again," Dad said. "I really missed my little Blueberrinette."

I giggled as he kissed my forehead.

"Good night, Marinette."

"Night, Dad."

And I closed my eyes, and tried to fall asleep, so he could.