“Oh my God!” I heard Clara cry out.
I hung my head, shame and sheer embarrassment ran through me. The word fuck kept repeating through my head. I was going to kneel down and pick up the shawl, when Daimon wrapped his arm gently around my waist and pulled me closer to him. I looked back to see Daimon was still sitting down. He leaned in his head and softly kissed my scar. The feeling of his kiss on my scar made my body shiver from the heat of his lips. He then looked up at me and smiled his sexy little smile.
“Go, I’ll be here waiting,” he reassured me. I bit my lower lip watching him, holding back my tears. “Go already,” he said again still smiling. I tried to kneel down to pick up my shawl, but he wouldn’t let me. “You don’t need it, Addie. You’re beautiful, just as you are,” he said softly. I nodded softly and he released me from his hold.
I carefully made my way through the crowd to a lavish bathroom. Without the shawl, I felt exposed for the entire world to see. It was a stupid piece of fabric, but it was my sole barrier, protecting me from the prying eyes of everyone’s gauging stares.
I had embarrassed him. Daimon and his stupid dress, his stunning little dress that made me feel both wonderful and unworthy. The ugly scar, which marred me, made me feel self-conscious and aware of all the eyes, which lingered on my body, wondering what had happened to me.
I finally mustered up the courage to head back; once at the table I could put the shawl back on and shield myself again. I made my way out, but I stopped short, seeing Daimon with his arms crossed as he leaned up against the wall, waiting for me with my shawl.
“Come here,” he said the moment our eyes met. My feet instinctively carried me to him. “Even if I tell you you’re perfect, you wouldn’t believe me anyways,” he said as he held out the shawl for me to take.
“I'm sorry,” I said quietly as I took the shawl.
“For what?”
“For embarrassing you,” I shrugged.
“Don’t be stupid,” he said bluntly as he took my hand and led me out.
“What’s this gala for anyways?” I asked as he took us to a bar far from Clara and our table. There weren’t any signs or anything to indicate what the night was about.
“I put this gala together to raise money so underprivileged kids could get a computer and a leg up in school. Just because you don’t have the means, doesn’t mean you should be left out of a good education,” he said as he called to the bartender.
“So now you’re helping charity cases. Whatever happened to the Daimon I knew in high school? Who thought charity cases like me shouldn’t have any rights to mingle with the rich?” I watched as he got his whiskey. The bartender asked me for a drink, but I declined. I wasn’t in the mood for alcohol.
“Let’s just say, you opened my eyes,” he said as he picked up his lowball glass and took a healthy swig of his drink.
The night ended easily enough. Daimon sent me home early, but stayed back, saying he had to mingle. He knew I was feeling uncomfortable and as much as I tried, I couldn’t shake the feeling of everyone looking at me.
He had his driver drive me home. I sat in the car and thought back through the night’s events and wondered what exactly was on Daimon’s mind.
After thanking the driver, I walked up to the front entrance and slowly opened the door. I stepped inside my home and turned off the porch light my father had left on. Taking off my high heels I headed to the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror. I hardly knew who I was anymore. I eased out of my dress and carefully put it away. I put on an old ratty t-shirt and finally felt like myself. My scar was covered up and I no longer felt the need to think about it. I slowly let myself into my bedroom and saw Sofia fast asleep. Listening to her quiet breathing I reminded myself I was doing this for her, I wanted her to have a better life than me. I was going to provide that for her, even if it meant selling who I was for money.
THE MEDS
I walked into the doctor’s office and was irate when I saw my father sitting hunched over in pain. I had to leave Sofia at the diner all alone, something I had never done before, in order to come and get him.
“What did the doctor say?” I asked as I sat down next to him.
“They said I needed a colonoscopy,” he said meekly.
“Why?” I nearly screamed.
A colonoscopy meant he would be in pain for months. The meds they gave him to clean him out only aggravated his flare-ups to the point where he couldn’t walk or work. Every time he had to go through one, we had to deal with it, and every time it only got worse. I kept telling him to tell them no, but they instilled fear, telling him of cancer and other possibilities.