Monthly Archives: June 2015

The Lies You Tell

Prompt: A lie that gets bigger and bigger

Lying is a tricky thing. It takes practice and just a hint of sincerity. You have to commit to the lie. Which is something bad liars never seem to understand. You have to tell a lie until you can recite it in your sleep. You have to say it out loud. You have to make every lie so beautiful it will break a person’s heart just to hear it.

You can never believe the lies you tell. Not really. When you start to believe your own lies, the only heart that will break is your own.

Fool that I am, I thought that rule wouldn’t apply to me. I was wrong.

Some people have faces that pull others toward them like magnets. He had that kind of face, beak of a nose and all. Some people have voices so striking that everyone stops to listen when they speak. His voice was like that, sharp enough to cut through the noise around him and still smooth like butter.

But maybe you already know what he’s like. Maybe you can imagine and I don’t need to say anything else.

I suppose everyone had to love him, just a little. That’s how it started for me, slightly dazzled but distant enough that it felt harmless.

He breezed into my life, my town, like a whirlwind. He left chaos in his wake until it all righted itself and it felt like he’d always been there as a clerk in the bank.

He flirted with everyone. He talked to everyone. We all knew. You probably noticed yourself. But it never felt like that. It felt like you were the only person he saw. I never knew what it meant in a book when a heroine said she blushed uncontrollably until the first time I had to stammer through a conversation with him.

I told myself it didn’t matter. That was the first time I lied to myself.

It’s almost imperceptible sometimes, when someone starts to matter dreadfully. My eyes began to track his movements across the bank whenever I was there. I started to watch for him. Wish for him. I didn’t even know his name.

I barely had savings and little need for a bank. Still, I found excuses to be in there almost every day. Loose change to trade for bills. A quick deposit when the ATM had a line. Inquiries about new account options. Any reason I could take. Speaking to him was the best, of course, because it always felt like something could happen. If he was busy–or worse not there–I would finish my business and get on with my day. If I managed to catch his eye before I left all the better.

I told myself it didn’t matter so much, either way. That was the second time I lied to myself.

The problem with lying to yourself is that it becomes much harder to keep track of the truth. It’s easy to get lost.

He always had a smile for me and, on one sensational day I won’t soon forget, a wink. I didn’t stop to think it might mean anything. The line between fantasy and reality was already too blurred for that. I could imagine any number of sensational scenarios. It wouldn’t change the fact that he was paid to be affable and polite. It wouldn’t change the fact that he didn’t know my name.

I wouldn’t know it for some time but those turned out to be the biggest lies I ever told.

I was near the bank just after closing. Not to see him, for once. I was finishing my own shift at the supermarket–one of the few places in town that would hire high school students when I started applying that fall. I was a senior waiting for graduation to finally roll around. He caught up to me while I waited as the bus stop.

Despite all of my surprise visits to the bank, I was still shocked to see him outside its walls, out from behind the big counter where all of the tellers stood. His hair was still carefully combed but he had on a t-shirt now instead of the button down shirts all of the men at the bank had to wear. It was a few seconds before I realized I was staring at his upper arms, at the curve of his neck without a collar obstructing it.

He pulled off his sunglasses to smile at me. I wished, desperately, that there was a bench at the bus stop as I was no longer certain my legs could continue holding me.

“I see you in the bank all the time.”

I nodded dumbly before I replied, ever so witty, “Finances are very important.”

His teeth were so white when he smiled that I immediately forgot how idiotic I must sound.

“So, this is embarrassing because you’re always at the bank, but I don’t know your name.”

He stood so close to me that I could see the stubble beginning to shadow his jaw. It made him look older–the way he was supposed to look, I realized with a shock–not the fresh-faced boy who had been inhabiting my imagination for months.

“I’m Isabel,” I said slowly. “Isabel Downes.” As soon as I said it, I regretted giving him my full name.

“Such a proper name.” Another smile. He stepped closer to me which didn’t seem possible when he was already the only thing I could see. I had spent so long willing him to talk to me like this at the bank. It was only now, when it was actually happening, that I stopped to wonder why he would possibly have anything to say to me.

I licked my lips, nervous and not sure why. “Shouldn’t you tell me your name now?”

“Don’t you think we’ll have plenty of time for that?”

“My mother told me I should never talk to strangers,” I said with a smile as if I were flirting. Another lie, this one too small to even track.

“My name’s Ian,” he grinned this time, all sharp teeth and wants I couldn’t quite name. His eyes roved down to my chest for one beat too long before he finished. “Ian Johannes Abbington.”

I smiled back tightly. His gaze shifted to the bus that was coming. I tugged the neckline of my top a bit higher. Not that it mattered. The shirt, I realized, wasn’t too low cut at all. I tugged on the red sweater I had in my bag, buttoning it despite the heat.

As the bus doors opened in front of us, I tried to think of reasons to walk away. It suddenly felt like too much. He was too close to me. He was too happy to see me. It was too fast despite my own efforts to speed things along. A bead of sweat trickled down my back under the sweater as he gently took hold of my elbow before I could move away.

“Now that we’re not strangers, I think we’ll have a lot to talk about on the ride.”

I stared at him as we moved toward the bus door. The way the night might go unfolded before me. It could be everything I had wanted so badly since the day I saw him. More even, if his behavior was any indication. Or it could be a disaster. The worst mistake I would ever make.

I still wasn’t sure as I followed him onto the bus.

He waved me into a window seat before settling himself beside me, his arm already around my shoulders. “I always like meeting new people,” he said as the bus lurched forward.

“Oh, so do I,” I replied automatically as I watched the bus stop get smaller and smaller in the window.

It was hard to tell, with so much good humor and so many smiles, which of us was lying.

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The Day After

Prompt: A conversation with a stranger.

“What if I told you I might be falling for you?” he asked as they walked toward the entrance to the subway.

Strolling near the park should have been romantic. The perfect ending to a day of adventure and surprises. It could have been, if she let it. But she already had what she needed from him. Even without knowing each other’s names or any personal information, she already felt like he knew too much. She felt like he had come much too close.

“That isn’t going to happen. You don’t even know me.” She pushed her glasses higher on her nose.

“I know enough,” he said, as he pushed a tendril of her red hair behind her ear.

They walked into the subway in silence. He already knew they were going in opposite directions. She’d made sure to tell him that much.

His train was first. She stood with him near the top of the stairs. She took his hands. “You aren’t going to fall for me. You don’t love me. After tomorrow you never will.”

“What are you talking about?”

A train had come. She timed her reply with the onslaught of people. “None of this, nothing today, had anything to do with you.” She let go of his hands. “You had something I needed. I have it now. That’s all this ever was.”

She moved away and disappeared down a set of stairs before he could follow. It didn’t surprise her when she found him staring at her across the tracks. Nothing about him surprised her. Not after today.

“I don’t understand. Why did you do this? Why would you tell me?” he shouted at her, voice stricken.

She remembered when she kissed him, hours ago, probably harder than she should have. Definitely longer. She remembered forcing her hands out of his hair, her body away from his.

She couldn’t kiss him now. Not with an entire set of subway tracks between them. Her glasses were dirty and she could barely see him across the platform. She knew he was upset. But she could only guess at his face. Was he angry? Sad? She wondered if he would look for her as she yelled back, “Because we’re never going to see each other again!”

Her train was coming. She heard the rumbling and saw the gleaming light moving out of the tunnel. He finally noticed the train a moment after her. She watched him turn toward the tunnel.

“I’ll remember you!” he called when he realized he was running out of time. “I’ll remember today and I’ll remember you! I don’t believe it meant nothing!”

“I am sorry! Believe that at least!”

The train came then. It was too late to say anything else. It had always been too late.

She walked into the train car. He watched her, offered a feeble wave. She put her hand against the glass and smiled at him. She didn’t know if he saw it. She couldn’t tell if he watched the train as it left the station or if he would try to follow her. He wouldn’t find her. She knew that much for certain.

She left her glasses on the train when she got off at the next stop. Her vision cleared without the dirty lenses. For the first time all day she could see properly.

She waited until she was in the middle of a crowd before she pulled off the red wig. Her own dark hair was already in a bun. She threw her green sweater into the trash as she wove her way through the station to a different train. She kept her purse. It had the clone of his cell phone—the one that would clear all the obstacles that stood in her way. Tomorrow night she’d use it to buy her freedom. Then she would walk away.

She would sell the phone as promised. There had never been a choice about that. But she also knew she would save the information somewhere. Just for her.

He could try to look for her. Part of her hoped that he would. But he wouldn’t find her. It was much too late for that.

But maybe the day after would be early enough for her to try to find him.

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