Secret Lucidity(79)

“Well, if you want me to help them, I won’t. I’m not saying anything.”

“Camellia,” my mother scolds harshly.

“No, Mom!” I turn to Randall, pleading, “What can we do to help him. There has to be something, right?”

“That man is a child molester!”

I pop out of my chair. “No, he isn’t! Oh my God, are you crazy?” I yell at my mother, wishing to pour acid on her words.

“If she won’t cooperate, surely I can, right? I’m her mother.”

“Yes,” Randall says. “Again, since she’s a minor, you can step in.”

“You can’t do that!”

Her eyes narrow, “I can, and I certainly will.”

“With what? You don’t even know anything, so how the hell do you think you’re going to help?”

“I don’t understand why you want to protect this man when—” She stops, and I see cognizance sharpen in her eyes. For the sake of appearances, she comes across as a concerned mother when she softens her voice so tenderly and says, “Sweetheart, whatever you feel for this man is only the result of his manipulations.”

“You have no idea what I feel or don’t feel about anything.”

“It’s clear you want to protect him.”

“Because he didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Or maybe because you feel like you love him?”

I bite my lip when she says this, but I can’t stop my chin from quivering. There is no alleviating the vicious suffering of this love ripped so violently out of my chest. My eyes singe with tears that I quickly blink back before saying, “If this is about punishing a man who you feel hurt me, then don’t do it, because he never hurt me. The only thing hurting me is everyone else.” And when I can no longer bear the thought of something bad happening to David, my defense cracks and a tear falls. “I’m begging you . . . don’t do this. You have to trust me. Please. Just let it go.”

The room falls silent aside from the few whimpers that escape me as loss consumes. Never, not even after losing my dad, have I felt so depleted and empty inside. It’s like a tomb of hollowness, waiting for me to keel over and fill it. And the sickening thing is, it doesn’t even scare me. I want to embrace the idea when I think of what could happen to David.

My mother stands and, with a quiet tone, thanks Randall for stopping by. “I think we should give her a little time. This is all so sudden.”

“Of course. Please, call me if you need anything. Until then, I will keep in contact with the DA and let you know of any new developments. Though I’m not sure how forthcoming they will be if you’re unwilling to cooperate.”

“I understand.”

She shows him to the front door, and with nothing left in me, I head to my room.

When I pass my mom, she drops her fa?ade and digs the knife in deeper. “I can’t believe you were stupid enough to fall in love with that pervert. You just better hope when this hits the news, nobody finds out it was you. I don’t want our name being dragged through the mud.”

I turn and face her dead on. “You know, sometimes I think the only reason you had me was because it was what Dad desired. That you never actually wanted me. That maybe you’re just as needy as I am for love that you gave him whatever it was he asked for. So in the end, I guess you’re just as stupid as I am.”





I’M FILLED WITH DREAD AS I sit in the school’s office. It’s hard to believe it was only Monday when I got called down here.

In five days, my whole world has turned into a collision course of life-altering disasters I doubt I’ll ever come back from.

Ten months ago, the universe altered my life forever in two very different ways. In one swoop, it took my father away and gave me David, only to take him away too. There was no bracing for the impact those two events would have on me. Life doesn’t give warnings; it does what it pleases, forcing us to accept whatever it decides to hand out.

I waited until the end of the day to come meet the guidance counselor. She called earlier while I was at home—ditching again—with concerns about my graduating and insisted I come into her office immediately.

The principal emerges from his office and, when he sees me, gives me an uncomfortable look. Thank goodness he is the only one that knows I’m the reason why David doesn’t work here any longer. Never have I appreciated discreetness so much.

“Cam,” Mrs. Harlow calls when she peeks out from her office and waves me in.

I sit down and look at the posters on her walls while she digs through the pile of files on her messy desk.

One of the posters reads: All of Our Dreams Can Come True if We Have the Courage.

What a load of crap.

But it’s the one hanging next to the door that causes my eyes to roll: No One is Perfect. That’s Why We Have Erasers.

“How are you today?” she asks in a nasally voice, pulling my attention away from her stupid posters.

“Fine.”

“Is everything at home okay?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“You’ve been marked absent four days in a row this week,” she tells me. “All of them unexcused.”

“I’ve been sick and my mom has been really busy with work, so it probably just slipped her mind to call and excuse those absences.” It’s a sad state when you realize lying has become second nature.