Page 57 of Sweet Little Lies
Just as I thought…she’s ashamed of me. Doesn’t want me to meet her family. Doesn’t feel I’m worthy. Doesn’t want to step out over the line and rock the boat for a guy like me.
I walk her to her car parked– the one she finally got back from her brother – and she opens up the door where I deposit her book bag on the seat.
Then I place a kiss on the top of her head, lingering for a bit as I feel weight of the lies between us crushing my soul. Turning into a man I hate.
Lies seem to have embedded themselves into the fabric of our relationship like woven threads. Entangled and entwined until you can’t even see the single strands that make up the entire form.
Mica’s lying to her family about me.
She’s lying to me about why she doesn’t want to introduce me as her boyfriend.
I’m lying to her about why I can’t be with her tonight and who I’m going to see. Where I’ve been spending the majority of my time.
And I’m lying to everyone about who I really am.
Taking a step back, I kiss her one more time and bop her nose with my pointer finger.
“I’ll call you later, beautiful.”
She opens her mouth to say something but hesitates, instead painting a smile on to placate me, even if not a real one.
“Okay, call me later if you decide to come over. I’ll be waiting. Have fun tonight.”
She gets in the driver’s seat, rolls down the window and turns the car on. It’s like an oven, even though it’s mid-October.
“Lance,” she says flatly, the sound of her voice small and soft. “Is everything okay?”
I put on my most convincing smile, leaning down through her open window to look at her straight in the eye when I lie.
“Of course, it is, Georgie. I’ve got everything I want in the world right now. And that’s you.”
While that statement in and of itself isn’t a lie, I know the truth about having everything. It’s that it can all be lost in a moment and you can lose your grasp on the most important things if you’re not careful.
I need to be extra careful going forward. No missteps or errors. Toe the line so no one gets hurt.
