Lies
My grandfather lied to my grandmother. I guess it runs in the family. That’s why I wasn’t surprised when I heard the lie come out of my own mouth. I’d never lied to Charlene before, but I guess there’s a first for everything. Besides, I don’t know if I’m fully to blame...after all, Grandpa did the same thing.
He lied to my Grandma about many things, throughout his life. Well, I suppose he’d have to. They were married for 45 years, altogether. I say altogether because they did take the occasional time apart.
But they just came back to each other every time, swearing that this time it would be different. But it never was.
I never thought that I’d get to the same place with Charlene, not after the...well, the Honeymoon Years, I like to call them. We were very happy for a long while, me and Charlene, after we met. Everything was rosy and we’d never fight. There was ice-cream and gumballs and we were just little kids with each other. Well, apart from the mind-blowing sex, that is. And those were three incredible years, but I guess, all honeymoons have to end at some point.
The first lie wasn’t the worst. I can hardly remember it now. The words, the phrasing. But I remember the look on her face. ’Cause see, she knew I had lied. She knew I was lying to her, I guess my face must’ve been different too.
‘I can’t make it on Saturday.’
I could.
But I didn’t want to. I hated her father and another meal with him would be impossible. So I lied.
Margaret had this habit of spitting. It began to get on my nerves. Margaret, of course, was my mother-in-law. Or would’ve been, if me and Charlene were ever married. But we never did decide to go through with the whole shazam. Neither of us believed we needed it to be happy. After all, one’s going to stay as long as he wants to, there ain’t no paper or ring that can hold them down. Am I right?
Anyway, I couldn’t deal with Margaret and Frank for another interminable meal. ’Cause it never was just a quick bite with those two. There were courses to go through, the beginning and the main and who the hell knows what else. I couldn’t stand it, it was hours upon hours of torture.
Charlene’s eyes lost their light when she heard me say I couldn’t.
’I know you can, you lying bastard′ I could hear her thinking. And of course she knew. She knew my whole schedule. Always. Part of the Honeymoon Years. But not anymore.
She dressed in silence and announced she was going anyway, so we spent the night apart. I don’t remember us doing that before that night. However, I didn’t hate it, I actually thought it was quite nice. To be free, for a change, to do whatever I want and immerse myself into solitude. But when she came back, she didn’t kiss me, not even on the cheek and that night, she slept with her back at me.
It was the beginning of the end.
Charlene began speaking less, and I realized that I knew less and less of her life. Of her worries and happiness and secrets. What excited her during the day, what she desired at night. I was lost. But still, I didn’t react. I guess I was waiting for it to get better. It didn’t.
The day her mother slapped her face was what really changed Charlene. I wasn’t there, of course, by then, I so rarely was. I don’t know why she did it exactly. I guess they were arguing. Charlene had become snappy with everyone around, so I guess Margaret couldn’t take it, so she snapped. Charlene came home crying and went to our room.
I walked after her, because I knew something was wrong and wanted to fix it. I wanted to fix things between us.
Charlene was packing her bags.
‘What the hell are you doing?’
My mind was screaming NO NO NO. Because I knew what she was doing. ‘I’m leaving you, Steve.’
‘Don’t. Honey, don’t.’
And I looked at her with my most puppy like eyes (and I meant it). But she didn’t look back, she just kept packing.
‘I can’t,’ she told me.
So I grabbed her shoulders and puller her close to me. ‘Baby, we can work it out.’
She looked up at me and I could see it in her eyes – we can’t.
She left that day and we haven’t spoken since. I hear she’s remarried and I hope she is happy. Most importantly, I hope that idiot doesn’t lie to her too. ’Cause that’s the thing, see, once the lie gets in....the smallest, sneakiest, most insignificant lie, it ain’t getting out.
You’re done for when you first lie. It’s just a matter of time until it blows up.
Thanks for listening anyway.
