I awoke in a brightly colored bedroom, a sunny yellow color on the walls, darkness clouding the windows. I had been sleeping in the softest bed I’d ever felt, wrapped by a four-poster mahogany frame. The room was meticulously decorated, from the beautifully framed prints on the wall to the fresh flowers on the dresser. I looked at my watch and couldn’t believe the time: it was 10 p.m.
“Camille?” A low, gentle voice asked.
I looked off to my left to see someone sitting on the other side of the room, on what I was sure was an antique loveseat. I sat up quickly, realizing that today hadn’t been some amazing dream. I was really in South Carolina and had spent the day with my five brothers. The room was dimly lit with two lonely lamps illuminating the room. I couldn’t be sure who was sitting across the room, as I wiped the sleep from my eyes. Everyone had been so welcoming that I wasn’t creeped out by someone sitting there in the dark. I answered, “I guess I was more tired than I realized.”
“I’m glad you’re here. I trust the boys were tolerable today?”
It was my father, right here in the flesh. I knew from the way he asked the question. My heart began racing, pumping so fast I thought it might beat right out of my chest. I sat up a little straighter, realizing this was really the day I had waited for my whole life. Trying to keep my enthusiasm under control, “They were great. You didn’t mention them when we talked yesterday.”
We had coordinated every aspect of the trip by email and phone. I’d talked to him several times, but he never once brought up that he had sons, that they would be picking me up, or entertaining me. As I watched him sitting on the love seat, questions flooded into my mind: Why didn’t you tell me about them? What’s your wife think about me staying in your house? Why did you have an affair with my mom? Why did she never tell me about you?