Where the Wild Lilies Bloom

AIRPORTS. HELL ON EARTH. They made me nauseous. The sheer amount of people and imagining all the germs made me queasy like a pregnant woman. I hated airports with a burning passion.

I never thought my hatred for airports could worsen, yet, I was proven wrong today. Extremely. Not only had my flight been delayed, but there was a slimy little shit behind my seat who refused to stop kicking my chair and two—not one, but two screaming babies.

To say I was pissed would be an understatement.

And it was hot as balls in California. I mean, hot, like I was burning in the crack of Satan’s ass. It sure felt like it. The humidity slapped my face and fucked me over the second I stepped outside. Truly, though, I couldn’t be more happy to get out of that airport. Suffocating. I felt suffocated and antsy the entire trip, only a breath away from a break down. My lungs burned with every step I took, my backpack heavy on my shoulders and my suitcases felt like I was lugging a pile of bricks.

I left everything that provoked me to jump in front of a moving train back in my city of Montreal for an escape. I was at the point that either I needed to leave or things would start getting ugly. They already were. Hideously so.

A three month trip to a Californian island sounded like heaven in a completely different context. But that wasn’t the case. My life was crumbling right before my eyes and I was right along with it. No matter how much I denied it.

“Hello?” the bushy brows on Claude’s face rose upward. He looked expectant.

I blinked, once. “I’m sorry?”

“Your aunt.”

I blinked once more. “What about her?”

Most of his eyes were obstructed by his dark sunglasses, but I still caught Claude casting me a look from the side. “Have you heard from her?”

“Oh.” Now I feel dumb. “Yes. She said she’s waiting at the location.”

Claude nodded, eyes trained on the road ahead of him. Another thing to note about California — traffic was a bitch. If it bothered Claude, he wasn’t showing it. But after knowing my personal bodyguard for seventeen years, he still didn’t show much of anything.

With all the chaos we endured this morning from my mother’s pilot falling sick to trying to find a new flight, our original schedule for today was pushed back a solid three, four hours. Which left us in our current predicament — caught in the thick of Los Angeles traffic during rush hour.

“I wish the meetup spot was a little more private.” Claude said randomly after many minutes of silence. I cast him a look and he continued, “It’s just so out in the open and surrounded by people.”

"Préférez-vous vous rencontrer dans un parking souterrain?”

“English, morrita." Claude chided, his lips twitching.

Fuck English, I thought to myself as I slouched more into my seat. “It’s not like I’m the Queen of England.”

“But you’re a daughter to a powerful couple and they have enemies. Hell, you have your enemies, morrita." Claude fully turned his head. It wasn’t like we were going anywhere. “They’re untouchable. You’re not.”

Claude was a goddamn kiss-up. He put both my parents on a pedestal so high, it was baffling. We got into this argument every single time my safety was brought up. I wasn’t that important, not compared to my other prodigal older siblings. I wasn’t valuable like the others. But I was still a child, still seventeen with a life to live and more things to accomplish.

Or more things I could’ve accomplished. Anything I thought that would’ve garnered a sliver of respect or approval from my parents was ripped right out of my hands six months ago.

And I didn’t know what to do anymore.

So here I was in over-populated-as-fuck California with my personal bodygaurd/butler, on our way to meet up with my aunt and hide from my problems and the rest of this tiring world for the next three months.

I was a coward and unafraid to admit it.

What should’ve been a twenty minute drive ended up being an hour and the rest was spent in silence. Now that we were out of the literal hell that was LAX airport, it felt like I could actually breathe now that we finally escaped that shitshow. When the car finally rolled to a stop, reality hit me hard.

I was away from the environment that caused me so much misery, but it still felt like remnants still clung to me. Leave Canada. Check. Make it to California. Check. Meet with my long-lost aunt that I haven’t seen in a decade. Soon-to-be-checked. But what now? What was I supposed to do for the next three months?

I blinked hard. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe I should’ve thought this out better, come up with a better plan for my safe haven for the time being. Thongs were bad back home, but I could persevere, right?

Right?

What was I doing? What was I thinking?

“You’re freaking out,” Claude broke me out of my stupor. His dark eyes were on me as he lifted a large hand and rested it upon my head. It was familiar. Comforting. “No going back now. You did the hard part, so relax and take it day by day.”

So simple. I swallowed hard, but managed a solid nod.

He nodded back and was out of the car before I could blink. After a few deep breaths, I followed. The breath of fresh air was a nice contrast to the stuffy car and so was the park. But I wasn’t here to admire the scenery.

I made my way around the car where Claude was unloading the trunk with all my stuff.

I leaned against the car, and finally asked the question that’s been nagging me. “So how is this going to work?”

He shot me a sideways look. A signal for me to continue.

“You, Claude. Are you going to follow my every step like you do in Canada?”

“It’s a different environment. Small town, small island. I won’t be hovering over you like I usually would. We do daily check ups. Some days I might shadow you, sometimes I won’t.” The finality in his tone made me realize that he wasn’t going to negotiate. “I have another assignment I’ll be handling so my entire focus won’t be on you.”

I gave him a thumbs up because truly, it could be worse. And it has been worse.

“Delilah!” There was a squeal so loud that people loitering around began to turn and stare. I went rigid and Claude was moving around me before I saw or registered a thing. In an instant, he hesitated and I had no time to react as he moved away. I felt her before I really saw her — a petite body slamming into me with a force that didn’t feel natural. Not for someone her size.

I went stumbling, my bad leg smacking into the car. Claude’s hand darted out to my shoulder, steadying the both of us before we went down. Sharp pain muddled my brain for a moment, but I managed to croak out a choked, ”Tata.”

She only squeezed tighter until I let out a miserable whimper.

“Oh!” Fiona separated herself from me, soothing down my clothes. Were her hands shaking? Another step backwards and I was able to see my aunt fully. Someone was stabbing my heart with a knife. Air stopped circulating for a moment and I stared and stared, unable to do anything with the feeling pinching my chest.

I didn’t move when she took a single step forward and pushed my sunglasses up to my head, didn’t fight it. Couldn’t care.

Tears filled her eyes, then eventually spilled out and down her flushed cheeks. Her hands came up to touch my face, cradling it with soft hands. “Delilah,” her voice wobbled as a smile split her face, pained, regretful and so very happy, all at the same time. “oh, my sweet Delilah. My niece, my sweet niece.”

“Tata,” I spoke softly, embracing her just as tight as she did before. It’d been so long since I’ve seen her, my precious aunt. Almost ten years. Fiona was one of the few people on my dad’s side of the family who weren’t complete psychos or downright terrifying. The Petrov family lived a life in the public eye, but not many knew about my father’s twin sister, Fiona.

“You’ve gotten so tall,” her laugh sounded choked with emotion. So familiar. So fucking familiar. “I’ve missed you so, so much, my love.”

I held onto her a little tighter. My hoodie stuck to my back uncomfortably with thick sweat but I couldn’t bring myself to care.

She sniffled, untangling herself from around me. “I’m getting too emotional,” she blubbered, fanning her face then taking my hands in hers.

Our little bubble was popped by the slamming of the trunk. Claude immediately frowned, looking apologetic. “My mistake.”

Fiona waved him off with a flick of her wrist, a small smile tugging her lips up. “It’s good to see you again, Claude.”

“Same to you,” he nodded and let his eyes do a quick sweep of her frame. “It’s been a while. You look good.” A muscle on his jaw twitched and his eyes flickered to somewhere behind me. “I’ll leave you two as I load up the car.”

I could’ve imagined it, but I swore Fiona’s eyes got a little glassy again, but it was gone as quick as it came. Her attention was back on me, hands coming to hold my face. “You look bad.”

I snorted. “I’ve had a bad year.”

“Don’t say that. C’mon, give me something better.”

“I’m living the life I’ve always wanted. My friend is dead, my brother is half way there. My life has kinda been fucked sideways. And kicked to the ground.” It hadn’t even been five minutes and Fiona was making my head hurt. “I love my fucking life, tata.”

Fiona knew most of the nightmare that happened on December 29th of last year. Her and half the fucking world. She knew details, or at least the details my parents gave her.

Yet, her brows went up, lips twisting into somethin I wouldn’t describe as a frown or smile. “Interesting.” She finally commented.

I snorted. That wouldn’t be the word I’d use. Fucked up. Horrifying. Hellish. Life-altering.

It was a lengthy discussion we’d have another day, it seemed like Fiona decided. She hooked her arm through mine and led me to her car.

“How was your flight?”

“It was fine,” I mumbled, unable to let my eyes drift from her face. Claude was right. She looked good. Visibly older with a few greys scattered across her mane of light brown hair, but very good. Time had done her well.

Her snicker drew my back to the present. “Even with the two hour delay?”

“Three hour.”

Fiona was silent for a moment, then fell into a fit of giggles. I rolled my eyes. She knew I was lying.

Her laughter calmed down as she sighed happily, “Well, Miss Delilah, because of your three hour delay and your six hour flight, we missed the original ferry.”

Fiona lived in the overrated state of California, but far off the mainland on a little island wedged between Mexico and California called Little Siena Island. It was split up into three parts, Greenwich Bay, Auburn and Salem. Greenwich, where she resided, took up the south side, Auburn took the north and Salem lay somewhere in the mid-east, a port town. I’d never visited before, so only pictures from her and online gave me an idea of what to expect. It looked like a summer small town dream.

My heart plummeted. I completely forgot all the delays would fuck up ferry ticket. “I’m sorry, I can pay you back—”

Fiona was laughing at me again. “Delilah, when did you become such a pussy? Can I say that?”

“I’m considerate. And seventeen.”

“I’ll be checking in on you in a few days, Delilah,” Claude said once we reached him. “Make rational decisions.”

I ignored him. I pulled him into a hug even though I knew it wouldn’t be last time I’d see him. Something was making me feel ridiculously sentimental and I didn’t know what. “Don’t let me have all your attention.” I joked. “Focus on your other assignment too.”

“That sounds like you’re trying to scheme.”

I feigned innocence. “I would never.”

Claude’s lips twitched as I climbed into the passenger seat. He closed the door as he said, “Goodbye, morrita." He shut the door after me.

Even though he couldn’t hear me and his attention was far from me, I still whispered, “Bye, Claude.”

Fiona and Claude were talking rapidly, too quick for me to try to read the words forming on their lips. I didn’t need to be a fucking genius to know they were talking about me. More hand motions were used, Claude began twirling with the band on his ring finger. Fiona was beating an incessant rhythm on her thigh. Yes, they were talking about me and it was making me feel...bad. There were so many emotions surfing through their expressions and each one twisted the knife in my stomach even further.

I wasn’t broken, at least that’s what I convinced myself...but it felt like everyone around me was trying to put pieces of myself back together that I wasn’t even aware shattered.

Fiona and I sat in comfortable silence, the both of us lost in our little worlds as the diner bustled with chatter and laughter. My finger found the tip of my straw, my eyes drifting to Fiona. She had something she wanted to say and I had a pretty good feeling about what it was.

“So...” she pushed away her plate, a warm smile on her glossy lips. “Now that we’ve gotten our sweet reunion out the way, I need to do a wellness check on you.”

Here we go. I straightened slightly, fighting the urge to snort. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, that’s bullshit,” she said. One thing about Fiona was that she didn’t beat around the bush. She was helplessly honest and real, there was no changing it. Changing her. “I’m no idiot. I see what’s going on. I’m aware of things, Del.”

“You and half of the world, tata,” I retorted. A little smile twisted my lips, bitter and resentful. “You have to be more specific. I don’t know what exactly you’re talking about.”

Fiona shot me a look with narrowed eyes.

“I’m being serious,” I narrowed my eyes right back. “Are we talking about the tragic car accident? The injury that’s indefinitely going to ruin my soccer career?” I listed with my fingers, cynicism rising in my chest. Ignoring the throb to my right ankle, “Or, is it my alleged sex tape? The viral graduation video by the great Misha Petrov? The fight? The other viral video of me being —”

“Is this your subtle way of telling me you aren’t fine? I’d hate to burst your bubble if it is.”

“I don’t need you to psychoanalyze or counsel all the bullshit in my life.”

“Babe, I’m not doing either. You’re here because you need a break. Time away from the bullshit,” Fiona said, sternly. “Time to regroup.”

“Fiona, what do you want me to say?” I exasperated, shifting in my seat. Uncomfortable. I was fucking uncomfortable. “You know. And I’m fine.”I think. “No more stupid questions.”

Fiona sighed and reached to grasp my hand with both of hers. She squeezed, staring deep into my eyes as she said, “I don’t know how well your support system is back home...” A look darkened her features for a moment, “If you don’t have anyone, just know you have me. But I’m not Fix-It-Felix and I don’t want to be. I just want to love and care for you. Will you allow me to do that?”

I blinked, unease filling my veins. Yet another part of me ached and hurt as if a bulldozer went right through my body. My ability to speak was stuck behind the sudden emotions that closed my airway.

“Can I be brutally honest for a moment?”

“Aren’t you always?” I croaked.

She ignored me. “You look...really bad. Gauntly. In the sense that your physical health is declining. Fast. Mental too.”

I flinched. “Ouch.”

“Your mom is worried,” Fiona added.

And just like that, my mood took a negative turn. “I love the way she shows her concern for my well-being. Bitterness scorned my voice. “She’s so good at it, she sends me away to a shitty island.”

“Hey!” She cried. “You willingly agreed because you liked the thought of coming here!”

That was before I realized that was her easy solution to deal with me. Send me away and pray and hope that all my problems will magically disappear. Hope and pray that Fiona could fix me? Get the fuck out of my face. Why couldn’t she step in? Why couldn’t she stop what she was doing for a second and see to her own fucking child? We needed to be fucking serious for two fucking seconds. My mother...I loved her to pieces, but sometimes I got the idea that she had kids so she can flaunt them off.

Accessories.

I was a fucking accessory.

I found the tip of my straw, twirling it around in my cup. Beneath the table, my knee began to bounce. What was Fiona’s game? Make me burst a fucking blood vessel?

Her eyes followed the movement, but she didn’t falter. “Your...” her words trailed off, “Uh, you need to get ahold of your father.”

My eye was fucking twitching. “Why? When did you talk to him?” Fiona was his estranged twin sister for a reason.

“Earlier. I talked to him while you were on your flight.” Her tone was clipped. She was revealing nothing. “You two need to talk. I think there was a misunderstanding about the flight date.”

Now that had me straightening in my seat. “What misunderstanding?” Mischa Petrov didn’t give a shit about this trip. Mum was the one involved, but I don’t think most would consider what she did as ‘being involved’.

Fiona’s smile looked forced. “Talk to him. I’ll be expecting an apology from him after.”

I looked at her, curiosity biting at my skin. Was she trying to bait me into calling him? Because it was genuinely working. If there was a misunderstanding, he should be coming for me or my mother, not Fiona. I hope she made him realize that.

But this was Mischa Petrov we’re talking about. He had a nasty habit of placing his wrath on the wrong person.

Fiona and Mischa Petrov were related by blood, born in the same womb, shared the same birthday, shared the same parents. She was the spitting image of him and he was her. That was where the likelihood ended. Where Fiona was emotional, nurturing and gentle, Mischa was all serious and intimidating, the most emotionally unavailable person I knew. Polar opposites.

They treated each other like mortal enemies rather than twins that grew up with an inseparable bond. I never knew the full story — nor did I have the desire to know — but it seemed like a long series of events. A chain of reactions that still tortured them to this day.

Unlike her brother, Fiona kept herself out of the spotlight and didn’t like to be associated with the Petrov business. I think her finally severing that tie and fleeing to Siena was the killing shot. Ever since she left and started a new life, the loose thread snapped. But Fiona was happy and content on her little island and my father was occupied dominating the conglomerate business world and becoming filthy rich — that’s all that mattered, I guess.

“I can’t believe none of your siblings wanted to come with you,” she mused, twirling her straw. “Siena is nice and peaceful. I think they all could use a break.”

I was thankful for the slight shift in conversation. Any more talk about either parent and I was going to rip my head off. “I didn’t invite them.”

All my siblings were adults and did their own thing, at the speed of their tempo. There were eight of us in total including me; Gabriel, Noël, Valeria, Ilya, Shiloh, Roman, Arisa and me, Delilah.

Gabriel was a certified workaholic, but I couldn’t tell you a single thing he did. Something shady. Something I didn’t care to find out. Shiloh was traveling all over Europe with her brand sponsorships, Valeria was another certified workaholic and spent her time obsessively running her small, but successful real estate business alongside her portion of Petrov Industries. Noël had a cybersecurity company with an impressive clientele list and was on his way to take over Mischa’s main business. Arisa was married off into an aristocratic family from northern Europe. Roman was on his way to getting a worse track record than me and Ilya...Ilya had the pleasure of having to relearn how to function like a normal human being all over again.

So, no, I did not invite a single one of my siblings.

I snorted as I tried to imagine either one of my brothers or sisters going to Siena Island with me. The workaholics would cop out for a work emergency at a second’s notice.

“So....” She wiggled her brows. “What are your plans for this summer? Learn how to surf? Maybe—”

Surfing with my bum leg? “Sleep and eat are my plans.” Taking my fist, I thumped it against my chest until I let out a chunky belch. “Pardon.”

Fiona looked a little mortified...and a lot disgusted. I was dead serious. No serious summer plans for me. I had no energy to pick up a new hobby or engage in any cool activities.

“I already know how to surf.” I added.

My aunt made a big show of rolling her eyes, scoffing in clear disgust. “Oh, give me a break. Going in shitty rivers in negative degree weather is nothing like surfing in an actual ocean. River surfing is not the same.” Nose wrinkling, she flicked a piece of lint off her arm and murmured, “fucking Canadians.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I waved her off dismissively, unmoved by her hatred of river surfing. You either loved it or you hated it—I, for one, fucking loved it. Sure, it was cold as fuck, but you get used to it. “I didn’t come to make lifelong friends or be...sociable.”

“Sociable.” She said in English. “Same word.”

Siena was a small island. Everyone knew everyone. Putting me in a place where everyone knew each other and trying to force my way into formed friendships was a recipe for disaster. People there watched the news, had social media and read tabloids. So insert me, the girl with one too many rumors with my name thrown into the mix?

Right. Criss ton camp.

Fiona stared at me thoughtfully once I finished explaining. “I still think you’re being a teeny, tiny bit dramatic.”

I threw a fry at her, nailing her right in the face. Fiona’s laughter seemed to be drowned out by the loud chatter in the diner. Thankfully. She laughed like a crow.

“God, you remind me so much of myself when I was your age.” Fiona grinned. When she noticed my glare, she rolled her eyes, “please, Del. I understand your feelings and your concern and caution, but don’t let that hold you back from enjoying yourself this summer.” Her hand was in my hair, ruffling it and leaving a mess on my head. “I need you to have at least a little fun. Okay, kid?”

“Sure, Auntie.”

Her eyes shifted to my half-eaten food, “You done?” I nodded and she turned, digging through her purse to yank out her wallet. “You pay, use the pink card. I have to use the restroom.”

I sighed, taking the wallet and watched as she left me alone at our table. With her gone, I became hyper-aware of my surroundings. The place was cramped and packed. A few would do a double-take as they strolled past; some fully seated at a table were breaking their necks to see if their eyes weren’t playing tricks on them. At first it was amusing. Now it was just mildly irritating.

“Uh,” I looked up at the sound of her voice. She practically squirmed once we made eye contact, a waver in her tone. “I-I don’t mean to bother you, but oh, my God, you’re Delilah Petrov, right?”

There it is.I smiled slightly, nodding. “That’s me.”

She exhaled loudly, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Whoa, this is so cool. I’m Jenny! I’m a big fan!”

“Nice to meet you, Jenny.” An easy smile appeared on my lips. It was almost comical how robotic it felt to me. I ignored the odd feeling blooming inside my chest. “Thank you so much for your hospitality, you were very sweet.”

It wasn’t a lie and I wasn’t saying it just to kiss up. She was a great waitress. The diner was packed and I watched as she waited for four other tables full of snobby teenagers and impatient families.

Red flamed her pale cheeks. “Oh! T-Thank you! I appreciate it,” her head lowered as she looked away. Embarrassed. Quietly, she murmured, “It’s a pleasure to serve you. I hope you enjoyed the food.”

My smile felt tight. “Pleasures all mine,” my voice sounds strained, like I was reading off a script. There was a desperate glint of curiosity lingering in Jenny’s gaze, and I had a pretty solid idea of the invasive question that dared to dart out her mouth.

Thankfully before Jenny or I could utter anything else to break the awkward silence, Fiona decided to make an appearance.

“Liliah, honey!” She was wiping her hands on her jeans, a bright smile on her reapplied glossy lips. Her smile faltered slightly, cinnamon eyes darting to Jenny who suddenly looked stressed as another waitress called her name behind the counter. Fiona’s gaze slid to me, a silent question in her eyes.

I shook my head, slightly. Unnoticeable.

“Thanks again, Jenny,” I smiled, keeping it cool and sliding out the booth and onto my feet. I tossed a twenty dollar bill on the table, gave a meek wave over my shoulder.

It was frustrating that I couldn’t quite explain what had bothered me without feeling stupid. Or like a snob.

It was just — lately, being approached by anyone just put me on edge.

I shook my head again. “It was nothing.”

Fiona clicked her tongue, but let it drop. She hooked an arm around mine. “We still have some time to kill before we catch the ferry. Wanna do some exclusive window shopping?” Her brows wiggled suggestively.

Nausea lured over me like an unwanted shadow, the greasy burger I’d eaten was beginning to sit uncomfortably in my belly. I was absolutely worn out from traveling, my feet and back aching with each step I took. My morning hadn’t been the most pleasant either. But I was a sucker to Fiona’s energy so I nodded, forcing a weak smile on my face that I hoped would convince her.

“Sure. Okay.”