Julia Lelieveld and the fifth element

Thursday and Friday passed slowly. I hadn't seen Lucas again. We had a lot of tests and homework, so after school I had plenty to do.

On Friday Eva had asked if I would like to visit her on Saturday and stay for dinner. Of course I thought that was fun! I had already more or less promised.

If Dad promised he'd be home with dinner, I wouldn't go. It had been so long since we had a nice meal together.

When I rode my bike home on Friday afternoon, I thought I would stop by Dad's work. After about fifteen minutes on the bike I was standing in front of the police station. The station was in the middle of the old town. It was a beautiful old and large building. I walked up the stairs to the entrance. It still had an old-fashioned revolving door. Inside it had been renovated in the old style to match the building. It was beautiful. Gosh, Daddy hadn't told me about that.

I walked to the counter where a young officer was sitting. I estimated him in his early twenties. He had probably just finished his education or was still working on it.

He was on the phone. It was probably someone who wanted information about an ongoing case, because he was foisting the person on the other end of the line with the story that he shouldn't give information that hadn't come out yet. As I waited at the counter, I saw by his name tag that his name was Jerry. He finished his conversation and looked at me questioningly.

"Can I help you with something?" he asked in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Yes, I think so. I'd like to have a word with Detective Lelieveld."

"Detective Lelieveld? Sorry, but that is not possible without an appointment, you can speak to my colleague, he has office hours." He looked at me seriously.

"Could you give him a call?" I asked him.

He looked at me a little annoyed. "Sorry, but what don't you understand? He's very busy at the moment, so again, you can't speak to him!" he said in an angry tone and turned his head.

Gosh, he quickly was irritated. Somehow I couldn't take it from him.

Maybe it was because of his uniform. I hated the police uniform.

With a little raising of my voice I said to him:

“Yes, I know he's very busy, that's why I'm here. Could you just give him a call and tell him that his daughter is waiting for him here?" I crossed my arms. I was suddenly fed up with him.

He looked at me inquiringly. "Yes, yes, his daughter, and how do I know it's not an excuse to speak to him?" he said, annoyed.

"An excuse? You're not serious about this, are you?", I retorted. Now he had really screwed up. Damn, I didn't feel like being in such a bad mood at all. He looked at me arrogantly. I picked up my phone and dialed Dad's cell phone number. Luckily he picked up.

"Yes, hey Dad, with me. I'm down here at the station. I just wanted to come see you. But officer Jerry sitting here at the front desk doesn't believe I'm your daughter, so he didn't want to call you," I said clearly. As I said that, I looked at Jerry. He looked somewhat startled and angry at me.

Dad said he was coming and that I should just wait in the reception. "Okay, see you," I said triumphantly. I turned and walked to a chair. What a bitch I could be, I thought to myself. Well I thought Jerry deserved it.

While I was waiting at the reception I took another good look around me, at all those people in uniform. Luckily my father wasn't wearing a uniform. When Mom died, the officers also came to the hospital to question me. They were also wearing those uniforms. The emotions and feelings I had then came back to me clearly when I saw so many people in uniform. That's probably why I put off so long coming to see Dad at work.

Somehow I felt vulnerable sitting there waiting at the front desk like that. The day I was released from the hospital was Mom's funeral. Even then there were many colleagues of dad.

I can't believe daddy can work in between those uniforms. I couldn't, terrible.

I heard familiar footsteps coming my way. I looked up and saw that daddy was walking towards me. When I saw him he started to smile.

"Hi sweetie, what do I owe this to?" He looked at me surprised. It did me good to see Dad smile. It's worth coming here already. He gave me a kiss on the head.

"I thought it was time to see where you work," I said, shrugging my shoulders.

"Come on, I'll show you my office." He put his arm around me. "But first this," he said to me sternly. I looked at him questioningly.

He walked to the counter.

"Officer Jerry? This is my daughter Julia. She can always disturb me, no matter when", he said to the young officer in a stern and angry tone.

“And next time don't let me find out you'll treat my daughter without any respect. Understood?" Jerry looked impressed at my father.

"Got it, Detective Lelieveld," he said in a small voice. "Good," said my father and he walked away with his arm around me.

I kind of felt sorry for Jerry anyway. My father could seem very overbearing. We walked up three flights of stairs. He shared a large room with three other detectives. In the center was a large table with all kinds of papers and photos on it. A large white board running the length of one wall was packed with notes, timelines, and photos. In the middle hung a large map with a note here and there.

A colleague of my father's was working at his desk. The other desks were empty. "Ralf, this is my daughter Julia." The man looked up. I think he was in his mid forties, he had dark blond hair and a mustache. Here and there you could already see some gray. He had tired eyes like my father. "Julia, this is my colleague Ralf de Groot." I walked over to him and shook his hand. "Hello, I'm Julia." The man laughed, his handshake was firm. Fortunately, my father had always taught me to give a firm hand.

"How nice to finally meet you, your father has talked about you often."

I smiled at him and he went back to his work. I was a little embarrassed. I didn't know Dad was talking about me at work.

"Look, this is my desk. Sit down and I'll get you something to drink." He walked out of the room. His desk was by the window, he had a view of the parking lot that was next to the police station. The parking lot was full of police cars and ordinary civilian cars. I sat down in his chair and looked at his desk. The first thing I saw was the picture of mommy and me. A pang of sadness ran through me. It was a beautiful picture. I remember it being made. The three of us were on a day trip to a museum. Mama always loved trips to the museum. The photo was taken a week before her death.

There was joy and happiness on our faces. At that time we knew nothing about the event that would take place a week later. Without thinking, I picked up the photo and touched her face. I felt my eyes start to sting and a lump appeared in my throat.

Before I couldn't control my emotions anymore, I put the photo back in its place. I couldn't do this. I couldn't see a police uniform or police station. No files of people who had been murdered, scattered everywhere. And certainly not a picture of my mother and me at all. I got up and walked out the door. I ran into Dad with two plastic cups in his hands. He looked at me questioningly. When he saw the panic and sadness on my face, his expression went from questioning to sad. "Sorry Dad, I can't do this, not here, I'm sorry." I looked at him, he sighs deeply. "Oh honey, you don't have to apologize. I totally understand, come here." He set down his cups and spread his arms. I pressed myself against his chest. He grabbed me tight and kissed my head.

"Shall I go home with you?" That would be really nice, I thought to myself. I nodded and let go of my father.

“Just give me a few minutes. You can wait downstairs, or if you'd rather leave I'll see you outside."

"Okay Dad, thanks." I looked at him gratefully. He walked to the office and I heard him tell his colleague that he was going home. His colleague indicated that he was waiting for an important call and that they should then take action. I heard my father say it had to wait and that he really had to go home. That his colleague should call him if he really couldn't do it without my father.

I already went downstairs. Jerry, the agent behind the counter, looked at me suspiciously. I didn't feel like waiting here at all. I walked outside down the stairs and sat on a bench in front of the station with my back to the entrance. Five minutes later, my father sat down next to me. He looked a little regretful.

"Sorry sweetie, but I have to leave soon." He looked guilty at his knees.

"Shall we have something to eat in the cafeteria opposite, then I'll be back at work soon." He nodded behind him toward the station. "Yeah, okay Dad," I said, a little disappointed.

I stood up with slumped shoulders and walked towards the diner. He threw an arm around me in disappointment. "If this case is solved, I'll be home more often," he promised. He gave my shoulder a squeeze. I wondered if he could keep that promise. After this case there will be another case that needs a lot of attention, so I had a hard time with it.

We walked into the diner. Looks like the police officers ate here more often, as there were more of them eating and the waitress who came over to us said: "Hello Detective Lelieveld, who is this beautiful young woman?" She nodded at me.

"Hi Maria, this is my daughter Julia. Julia, this is Maria."

"Hi Julia, nice to meet you," said the waitress with a sweet smile. She was a pretty woman in her late fifties with short brown hair.

"Hi Maria," I said to her.

"Do you have a table for two?" my father asked her.

"But of course, come with me." She led us to a table by the window. That's how we looked out on the street. I sat with my back to the wall. I could see everyone coming in. We got a basket of baguettes and the menu. My father ordered a steak with roast potatoes and vegetables. I took a tuna salad, because I wasn't that hungry. I still had that knot in my stomach.

“Sorry Dad, but I really can't stand it. I don't understand how you can keep up with all those uniforms around you." I looked at him uncomprehendingly.

"Honey, I'm sorry, I'm just used to it. I link those uniforms to my work, you to something else." He looked at me sadly.

I didn't feel like discussing this any further. He would probably be called up again soon anyway and then we would only have talked about the accident.

"Say Dad, I've been invited by Eva and Bas to have dinner with them tomorrow. If you're home, I'll stay home too. Otherwise I'll go to Eva and Bas if it's alright with you?" He seemed to think for a moment. "I'm glad you said that, because I have to work again tomorrow, so that's good." I sighed. "Okay, then I'll go to Eva and Bas tomorrow."

"How was school? Did you have to stay in detention?" he asked somewhat sarcastically and gave a little laugh. My father had those nice laugh lines by his eyes and dimples in his cheeks when he laughed. He should do it much more often.

"No, luckily not Dad, but it might happen someday, it's more difficult at a new school than I thought." He seemed to be examining me for a moment. "Do you have a lot of trouble with it?" he asked. "I'm also so little around to support you," he said disappointed.

I felt a pang of pity shoot through me. He didn't have it easy either. Raising a teenage daughter alone, his wife murdered by his job. He would find it difficult that he was so little at home, but on the other hand, he was there himself. He was also able to make agreements with his work that he would be at home with me more often. But yeah, that would never happen. I actually thought it would all be too much for him. Home alone with me only reminds him more that mom will never be there again.

"It's okay, Dad," I said reassuringly.