The Flower
Moving the five-step ladder out of the way, I glance at the newly installed camera in the corner of my living room.
My dad came over, insisting he help install a few cameras for extra security measures in the apartment where my best friend and I live.
I had a feeling that Z and my father conspired against me.
I get chills just thinking about it. My TikTok doomscrolling mentality definitely gave me a new perspective, and it makes me uneasy having them in our apartment. I know, it’s a me issue, but still.
The wave of a big hand blocks my line of sight. Pulling me away from my endless trail of self-sabotage. “Wipe that look off. It's for your own good. I promise,” my father says reassuringly. My face shifts from a disgusted look to an apologetic smile.
“Sorry, I know you're just trying to help. I'm able to turn these off and on, right?” I ask with a questioning look. I appreciate their concern, but it makes me feel like I’m not capable of handling myself. As if I need a babysitter.
There have been a few occasions where I’ve been put in an unsafe situation alone.
Shortly after I got this new job at Parker Raines Therapy Center, unusual things started happening to me.
Objects seem to be consistently out of place, just enough to make me think I'm going insane. Maybe I am. Maybe this is my mind giving up on me finally, or maybe I’m just paranoid.
One time when I was walking to my car after work, and found my driver's seat door wide open. I knew I hadn't left it that way because I always double-check and set my car alarm.
I immediately phoned my dad, and he rushed over to make sure everything was safe. It was, thankfully. We had scanned the car to see if anything had been stolen, and oddly, nothing was. It’s like my quiet, slow life picked up and said au revoir.
Ever since, I’ve had this chilly feeling that I'm being watched, and it has been getting progressively worse. Maybe psychosis is trickling into my life for some unknown reason, causing me to hallucinate.
Being a little paranoid is okay, Dahlia; it keeps us safe.
When I’m alone, movements seem to catch in the corner of my eye, but when I turn, nothing is there.
Like a shadow is following me. Sometimes I joke around and say it's a ghost to keep my anxiety at bay. Would I rather have a ghost haunt me than have a man make me feel unsafe? Yep, I’d rather choose the ghost.
It’s like that saying. “Would you rather be stuck in the woods with a man or a bear?” And every time, we women pick the bear. Men are scary. Not that bears aren’t, but I’m sure you catch my drift.
“Dahlia, did you catch all that? Remember this is the button you need to press in case of an emergency.” My dad pulls me out of my coursing thoughts again, pointing to a giant red button at the bottom of the page on my phone. I give a gentle smile and nod.
He explains all the ins and outs of the software, what type of cameras they are, and all the technology mumbo-jumbo that goes with it.
Will I remember any of this? Probably not, but that's what dads are for anyway. He is always just a phone call away. He gets really excited about this kind of stuff anyway, so I’m sure he’d love to conjure excuses just to talk about it.
My father will take any chance he gets to be there for me. I’m grateful, don't get me wrong, but it can be a little exhausting at times. He consistently calls and checks in ever since I moved out.
It took me months of pleading and being a golden child to convince him that I would be fine moving in with Zoe when we were in college.
Talk about a helicopter parent. I give him grace, though.
Being a single parent who has to be both mom and dad to a girl is tough.
Faced with the chaos of hormones, my father's only strategy is to toss me in a castle tower and lock me away forever.
I’m 30 years old; I’ve experienced a lifetime of events. Some good and some bad. I’ve honestly seen and dealt with some shit that people shouldn't have to go through at such a young age. But every event shapes who you are, and I’m proud of the person I am becoming, even if she is a little flawed.
The apartment Z and I found is in the city. I wanted a place where there is a lot of street and foot traffic. The more people around, the less chance of anything bad happening, right? At least that was part of my convincing. Not only to my father but also to myself.
We live on the second floor. If I had a choice, I would’ve picked to live on a higher floor, but this was the only vacant apartment the building had, so we compromised.
The building we live in is on the higher end. We had our eye on it for a really long time. So, when we found they had availability, we jumped at the chance. I needed this to work because I was going to be damn near bald if I had to live with my father any longer.
My poor, tortured, plucked hair.
The apartment is perfect for Zoe and me. We have a two-bedroom, two-bathroom place. Other than sharing the living room and kitchen, she has her side of the hallway, and I have mine. It’s the perfect friend living situation, really.
My father finishes his explanations, does one more look around, and makes sure everything is secure before we exchange our goodbyes. He gives me a kiss on the forehead; I lean in, appreciating the gesture. The door shuts gently behind him, leaving me in silence.
I pour myself some red wine and stare at the camera lens reflecting in the corner.
I suppose it isn't a terrible idea. I should give it a chance before I shut the idea out completely.
They are trying to look out for me after all, but I swear, if I hear one abnormal noise come out of one of these cameras, they're all coming down.
I take a deep breath, in and out, leveling my thoughts, when I feel a faint vibration in the pocket of my jeans. I pull out my phone, glancing at the small screen. A little blue bubble shines with a text.
Z
Get hot because we are going out tonight, I'll be there in 30!
I stare at the words, contemplating. Maybe a night out is exactly what I need. A break from reality, even if it's just for a moment. I double-tap the screen, hearting the message, letting her know I’m in for the last-minute venture.