I’ve always flown under the radar.Well-behaved.Never in trouble at school.Good grades.Helpful in the homes I lived in.
I don’t like to be reprimanded, so I’ve never done anything to cause it.Plus, no house mom I lived with would have yelled at me for leaving my shirt on the floor.That was the least of their concerns.
Foster homes often have a few kids with behavioral issues.Those children take up all the time and energy.Not me.Not a quiet girl who stays out of the way.
Until now.
Untilhim.
When I realize tears are running down my cheeks, I sit up and grab a tissue.I wipe them away and blow my nose.They won’t stop, though.I’m still silently crying while I rush around the room, getting dressed, hanging up my towel, combing my hair, putting my things where they belong in the bathroom…
I stuff my books into my backpack and head for the bathroom for one last look at my face.It’s red and splotchy.My roommates are going to notice if I don’t pull myself together.I can’t explain this.Why would I be crying?
After splashing water on my face, I take several deep breaths to calm myself.I look slightly better.I’m not a mess, but my eyes are puffy.I close the bathroom door and look at myself in the long mirror.
I’m wearing another cotton dress.This time, he left me both panties and a bra.It’s funny that he bought me clothes, but he has no interest in sexy lingerie.The man prefers me to be modest.I think he gets a hard-on knowing that I’m wearing such boring undergarments.He’s not a lace-and-satin kind of man.I doubt those things would impress him.
Like yesterday, this dress reaches a few inches below my knees.It’s maroon with a collar like a polo shirt and short sleeves.I’ve never worn dresses like this before, but I think I like them.They’re comfortable and easy.Simple.I have on socks and sneakers again.
Yes, the look suits me, and I start to relax, my breathing coming under control, my face looking less swollen.
Before leaving my bedroom, I grab my phone from my desk and shoot off another text to Daddy.
Briana: I’m sorry, Daddy.I will do better.
I get no response, which makes my heart sink, but the best way to climb back into his good graces is to do as I’m told.He’s angry with me.I know it.But I’ll be good all day and please him again.
All three of my roommates are in the kitchen when I emerge.It’s hard to face them because I feel like a liar all the time.I’m having a secret life I have not mentioned to a single living soul, including my brother.
The good thing is all of them are scurrying around, focused on their own breakfasts and getting to class on time.Too busy to notice my puffy face.
“Good morning,” I mumble as I head for the fridge.Like a robot, I pull out the bacon, an egg, a piece of bread to toast, and orange juice.
“Hey,” Desiree says over a bowl of cereal.“I love that dress.You had one like it yesterday, too.So cute.Trendy.”
Trendy?I’ve never been trendy.
“Thank you.”I don’t comment further.I could say they were just in the back of my closet, but I’d rather not pile lie on top of lie.So far, my only lies are by omission.I shrug.“They’re comfortable and easy.”
“For sure,” Ronie agrees after swallowing a bite of apple.“Adorable.”
Taylor jumps up, sets her plate in the sink, and waves.“Gotta run.”
I’m glad they all scatter while I’m cooking because my stress levels rise with every passing moment that Daddy doesn’t respond.
I need to be a big girl and let this frustration go.All I can do is what I told him: do better.I take a picture of my plate of food before and after I eat it, grab my bag, and head to class.
My knee shakes all morning as I try so hard to focus.I keep my phone on my lap.It doesn’t silently buzz even though I have sent five updates, letting him know when I arrive at class, when I leave, and when I arrive at my next.I even text him when I go to the bathroom.
Briana: Pit stop on my way to civics class.Potty break.
That text makes me chuckle.It gets no response.
After all my classes, I decide to head for my favorite spot in the library to study.I let Daddy know I’ll be there at two o’clock, right before I head in that direction, but then I run into my roommates in the quad and stop to chat with them.It’s the polite thing to do.It also tears me up a bit because I’m torn between social norms and pleasing Daddy.
I don’t want my friends to become suspicious of my odd behavior.I can’t fathom how I will explain myself.Once again, I fear the day I might have to lie to them.Maybe I should ask Daddy about this dilemma the next time I “see” him.Ha.I’ve never seen him.
And my heart tightens.What if he’s too mad at me to call me ever again?He could just stop communicating with me.I would have no recourse.My entire life is consumed with a man who’s so mysterious I don’t even know his name.I know virtually nothing about him.No idea where he lives or what he does for work.There’s also the possibility he’s a student.How many years has this freshman prank been going on, though?