Marie

I moved out of England when I was eleven. My mum scooped me up and transported us 5,300 miles away to San Francisco. A year went by before I started seeing my papa again. He had moved back to Paris (where he is from) and had started seeing a woman named Audrey. My parents negotiated and decided that I would spend half my year in Paris with my papa and the other half in San Francisco with my mum. Overall, I was fine with it. I had two lives, two sets of friends, and two sets of parents. Audrey took the space of a cool older mentor that lived on the edge. I loved her, I loved life. And then I came home to Paris. I don’t usually visit Paris in October, but we had a week off for the French holidays so I thought: “Why not?” My idea was to surprise my papa in Paris, spend five blissful days eating croissants and then go visit Rome in England. So, I ran up the 37 steps to his apartment and knocked on the door. And he answered it. Audrey was standing behind the counter singing as she cooked and dancing around her was a kid. My dad’s face was shocked, Audrey dropped her spoon, and the girl stopped dancing.

“Bonjour! Je m’appelle Marie!”

“Cade.”

“Papa. Qui est la fille?”

“Euh…”

And, that, is how I found out my papa, my papa, had a daughter.

She is four years old, I had gone four years without knowing I had a sister. It crushed me. The worst part is that she looks like me. She has soft, blond hair, and green eyes, and she is so happy. Audrey and Papa tried to explain, I tried to listen. But in the end, I left.

I just walked around Paris for hours and hours. And finally, I called Rome. She told me to get on the next train to London immediately. I walked and watched Paris light up. The restaurants buzzing with noise, the Eiffel Tower glowing, and the Seine sitting peacefully. And you know what? I was happy. Because love everything in my life so so much.

I did get on the train to London and Rome was waiting for me. She sat sketching on the steps as the Taxi pulled up to the wrought iron gate. I cried, we baked scones, and I felt sorry for myself. But then, I called my papa. Because we only have this one life, and I do not want to spend it made at some little girl who could make my life a whole lot more interesting.

bisous,

cade