Secret Lucidity(4)

She brushes her hands over my hair to ensure every strand is in its place before smiling at me. “Absolutely stunning.” She then helps me put on my white gown before adding a simple strand of pearls around my neck.

Tonight is the Father-Daughter Winter Ball, which will be my first cotillion dance, and I want to look perfect. I’ve been preparing for this night for the past two months, attending various junior cotillion etiquette and dance classes. I wasn’t exactly thrilled when my mom said she had enrolled me, but when I found out about the dances, I couldn’t hide my excitement. What twelve-year-old girl doesn’t want to get dolled up in a fancy dress?

“Wait right here,” she says. “I’m going to go get your father.”

“Okay.”

I sit at my mother’s vanity in her bedroom and smile at the great job she did with my hair and makeup. My face practically glows, and my long brown hair is perfectly pinned back into a French bun. I can’t wait for all my friends to see me tonight.

“Camellia,” my mother’s voice calls from downstairs, and I cringe slightly. She’s the only one who calls me that; my father and everyone else calls me Cam. Camellia sounds way too elegant for a girl like me; although, for tonight, it seems fitting.

I once asked her where she came up with the name, and she explained the relationship Coco Chanel had with the camellia flower. She said the white bloom lacks in scent, and that it’s a reflection of what every woman should strive to be, which is demure and understated, and to her, that is the epitome of class. My mother has always preferred high-end labels and an elevated social standing, even though we live a modest upper-middle class lifestyle. I mean, I’m only edging on turning thirteen and I’m well aware of what the term “Keeping up with the Joneses” is all about. And even though we’re no Joneses, that doesn’t stop my mother from trying to look and act the part.

I gaze down at my dad from the top of the stairs, and he has the biggest smile on his face. Dressed in a crisp black tuxedo, he’s more handsome than ever.

“My sweetheart,” he marvels as I walk down the stairs.

Mom takes an obscene amount of pictures as Dad hugs me and slips a simple white gardenia corsage around my wrist.

“Turn and look at me.”

Flashes from the camera are blinding, and after a few more poses, I kiss her on the cheek as she beams proudly.

“You two have a wonderful time,” she says as we walk out the front door.

I turn to wave goodbye before getting into the car.

“Don’t tell your mother this, but you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re just saying that, Dad.”

“It’s the truth.” He smiles as he starts the car and pulls down the driveway. “After tonight, I’m buying a baseball bat.”

“For what?”

“For any boy who tries to get your attention.”

Laughter fills the car. “Oh my God, Dad! You’re crazy. I’m only twelve.”

“Which means you’re almost thirteen. Which means it’s time to lock you in the basement until you’re thirty.”

“We don’t even have a basement.”

He turns to look at me with a charming glint in his eyes, adding, “The attic will have to do then.”




Ink surrounds with no forgiveness. No hint of light or shadow. Aside from a beeping machine that drowns in the distance, everything is silent. I attempt to open my eyes, but my body won’t give.

I feel a slight sensation of something on my face, but willing my hands to move is nothing more than failed effort.

Where am I?

Is anyone here?

My thoughts slowly fade into dank muteness.




“Turn, turn, turn.”

“I’m trying!” Leaning forward, I dart my eyes to find the markers my dad set up as I try to navigate around the vacant parking lot. I slam on the brakes harder than I intend, jolting both of us forward. “Where are the cones?”

“They’re under the car.” My dad is laughing so hard I can barely make out his words.

“Are you serious?” I groan. “I’m never going to get the hang of this. I’m going to be the only loser at school without a driver’s license.”

“What do you need a license for when you have me to drive you to school every day?”

I give my dad a side stare, and he lifts his hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay. I get it. I can’t expect you to be my baby girl forever.”

“If my lack of driving capabilities weren’t enough of a hint, I think it’s safe to say I’m going to be your baby girl for the rest of my life.”

He shoots me a wink before opening his door.

“Where are you going?”

“There are about five orange cones wedged underneath the car I’ve got to pull out.”




“How is she?”

I struggle to connect the voice that’s a faraway dream.

Who’s here?

“She’s stable,” a woman responds as I struggle to come to. “We’re not out of the woods; she’s in pretty bad shape. But right now, things are okay.”

What is she talking about?

Everything is so hazy.

Wake up, Cam.