Secret Lucidity(77)

Pulling into our driveway, Mom hangs up the phone. “Marlene’s husband is an attorney,” she says of one of her old tennis club friends. “He is going to make a few calls and will stop by later this evening.”

And as soon as we step into the house, my mother slams her purse onto the kitchen counter and kills all hope I have that she would snap back to the supporting and loving mom she used to be.

“How could you be so stupid?”





HER WORDS SHOULDN’T SHOCK ME, but they do. And I realize that, in a moment of weakness, I opened myself up to the idea that maybe she cared.

“My God, Camellia, what were you thinking? He’s a grown man!”

“Nothing happened.”

“Those text messages tell a very different story,” she lashes out. “How could you be so na?ve to let this man take advantage of you?”

Her unjustified words fuel my anger, but still, she keeps going. “If this gets out, do you have any idea how this will make our family look?”

“Are you serious right now?” I lose it. “And what about you? Are you blind to your own reputation in this town?”

She shifts in her stance and glares at me. “I’m not a child opening my legs for an older man—a teacher that works in the same school your father did. Thank God he isn’t here to see the disgrace you’ve made of yourself.” She then swings open the door to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of wine.

“I’m a disgrace? Me? Well, if you think what I did is disgraceful, I can only imagine what he thinks of what you’re doing!” I seethe as I stand here, clenching my fists.

I step out of her reach the moment she rears her hand back to slap me. “You can’t do this to me anymore!” I yell, growing emotional with words that crack as they fight their way out of me. She drops her hand, but I keep going. “You haven’t been a mother to me since Dad died. You left me all alone and forced me to pick up the pieces of this family. I can’t even properly mourn him because I’m too busy taking care of all your shit!”

“So this is my fault? It’s because of me that you . . .” She tosses her hands up and then braces them on the countertop when they drop. “I’m still not even sure what you did with that man exactly. How far did this little tryst go?”

“Do you really think, that for one second, I can trust you with anything about my life?”

“Well, I think it’s pretty clear you don’t trust me.” She pulls out the wine opener and starts unscrewing the cork. “I had to find out in a police interrogation room that my own daughter is moving halfway across the country to go to college, and somehow failed to tell her own mother. You’d think I’d be included in the decision if I’m going to be footing the bill.”

“Footing the bill? You really think I would depend on you to pay for anything? Who do you think keeps our electricity on and our water running? Dammit, Mom, because of you, we could’ve lost this house!”

She takes a big gulp from her wine glass, and I have to bite my cheek to keep myself from totally going off on her.

“The house is fine, so you can tone down the dramatics. We have bigger things to worry about, so I suggest you cut the teenage attitude and fill me in on what the hell has been going on between you and that teacher.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” Nobody is worth breaking my promise to David, not even her.

She sets down her glass and steps toward me. “This isn’t something you can lie your way out of. Do you understand how serious this is?”

“I was just questioned by a detective, Mom. I get the seriousness of the situation, but there is no situation. Nothing happened.”

“You’ve always been a terrible liar. It’s time to start telling the truth.”

But I don’t. I’m so done with her that I just stare into eyes I don’t recognize. She is not the mom I used to know.

“So you’re not even going to say anything?”

I shake my head in defiance.

She picks up the wine bottle by the neck and says, “Silence is incriminating, dear,” and then turns her back to me and walks away.

Unable to stand still in a storm of rage, fear, and sadness, I lose restraint and scream. With my eyes pinched shut, I scream so hard it’s like knives in my throat. Cords ignite in gritty fire as I try to release the pain and anger that’s eating me up inside, but I know it’s a wasted effort, so I give up and drop my head to my open palms.

I wonder which one of us my father would be more disappointed in: me or her?

What’s the point in wondering though?

We’ve made our choices, and here we are, broken with our own vices to run to—hers alcohol, and mine cutting—but I refuse to believe I’m anything like her. Yet, in this moment, it isn’t the blade I crave, it’s David. He’s so close, so within my reach, only a five minute drive away, and knowing that he’s never been more forbidden than he is right now breaks me. Breaks me down to the point I have nothing left but the blade to seek comfort from.

So, that’s what I do.




Knock-knock-knock.

“What?” I drone in annoyance from behind the locked bathroom door.

“Randall, the attorney, just called. He’s on his way over.”