The Lies We Tell

by Butler, Brittany

  “Okay,” I laugh, awkwardly.

  Don’t.

  After we put our things in my old room, I desperately needed wine. Tabatha stays with my mom as I went on the search for decent wine in this town. Don't get me wrong, I am not a wine snob. I am more likely to say this wine smells like a blackout than an oak tree at a tasting. I need sweet tasting, carbs, and high alcohol content; Normal requirements.

  I stop at the first store I saw. I park my Lexus at the back of the lot. She may not be the most expensive car, but she’s beautiful to me.

  I tucked my head down and moved quickly. I am not full- of- myself, but this is my hometown, so if someone is going to recognize me, it is going be here. While I am being honest, running into someone I went to school within a grocery store is my own personal form of torture. The alcohol is in a room in the back. Perfect.

  I grab a bottle of Riesling and look at the back. Nine point five percent is decent enough. I grabbed three. You know since there are three people in the house. These are the kind of lies I tell myself.

  “Well, look who it is,” a man says from across the aisle.

  I stop. I would recognize that drawl anywhere on this planet. Jack Mathis. That name has a way of sucker punching me right in the gut. Did he see my face? Should I throw my bottles across the room as a distraction and leave? I peek over the small racks that separated me from the row that I assume he is on, hoping I am wrong.

  He saw me. He is grinning from ear to ear, surprisingly. I may have taken off on him a few years ago, but I guess karma has a way of catching up with you. He’s probably fulfilled, and here I am lying to myself about buying three bottles of wine to drink alone.

  “Jack,” I say. It wasn’t a greeting. It sounded like I was pointing out that Jack was his name. God, I am so weird.

  “Natty,” he says. Gross. I roll my eyes, already annoyed with him. Nothing has changed. It is still not funny or cute to nickname your girlfriend after a cheap beer. The wine aisle has turned into high school all over again.

  "You’re back in town?” He asks as he walks toward me. He hasn’t changed at all since I saw him last. The day before our wedding.

  “For the weekend,” I say, correcting him. Or the rest of my life, if I don’t get it together, but I’ll leave out that small detail. An awkward silence fell between us. I am about to vomit words that I don't mean to get it over with.

  “I am sorry…about everything. Really,” I say.

  “It is no big deal. I pawned the ring and moved on,” he says.

  Ouch. His sandy blonde hair fell in his eyes, and he shoves it back. He is so handsome; he is the perfect type for the young Natalie. But still, damn.

  "Anyway, uh, it was good seeing you. I would ask you to hang out, but you’re married. And I have someone…I am engaged, actually," he says, pointing to the meaningless ring on my finger. He waves awkwardly as he stalks away from me. It doesn’t feel good to be left by Jack Mathis, no matter how many years have passed since that day.

  “Good seeing you,” I say after he walked off.

  I gawk, watching him leave. I always hoped he would find peace and closure, but now that he has it, I am bitter. Pawned my ring and engaged? A scowl sets deep in my face, and I search for the nearest register.

  This is stupid. You’re happy for him. He deserves it.

  I pay for the wine and run to my car. The sky opens up, and Niagara Falls lands on my head. I sling the door open and fall into my black, leather seats. I don’t waste any time getting my mom on the phone.

  “Jack Mathis is getting married, and you didn’t think to mention that to me?” I ask. My voice is hysterical. I need to calm down. I don’t even care.

  Is this how he felt when he heard I was getting married? I frowned at that thought.

  She laughs, "Heaven's no. I see his mama every Sunday, and she would've mentioned that."

  “I just saw him…” I don’t finish that sentence; that dirty little liar.

  “He saw the girl that ran out on him. Can you blame him?” She teases me.

  God, I hate when people make sense. I start my car, and I drive the back way to my mom’s house. My phone vibrates, and I know what it is before I look at it; the nightly sympathy text.

  Collin: How are you?

  Natalie: You could’ve found out

  Collin: I’ll come back when you are ready. Not because you want to put on a show.

  Collin: I didn’t mean that to sound rude. Call me when you get back Sunday.

  He knows me well. He checks on me every night and comes over at least once a week. Deep down, he probably thinks he’s helping me, but I wonder if we’re doing damage that can never be fixed.

  I mindlessly flip through the pages of a fashion magazine. I take a sip of my wine, eyeing a new pair of shoes that I mentally add to my list of things I can’t live without. Collin is on the opposite side of the kitchen, cooking. By the smells of it, it is healthy. I want to gag, but I try to be supportive. The oven chimes and his humming stops.

  “Why are we paying for two places?” Collin asks.

  “This sounds permanent,” I joke. I always get nervous with talks like this. I can’t be taken seriously.

  “I think we’re past that point,” he says, flatly.

  Collin is looking at me, smiling. He turns and pulls the dish out of the oven and sets it on the counter. I look over at the chicken and vegetables and die on the inside. He loves healthy food, but everyone has their flaws. We can work through this issue together.

  “So, what are we celebrating?” I ask, pretending that healthy food is a celebration.

  “Do we need a reason?” He asks, smirking. His voice is always music to my ears. I could listen to him talk about nothing for days.

  He pours himself a glass of wine and tops mine off. This is what I love about him. His spontaneous side. His ability to celebrate every moment. I can’t help but wonder what the hell I did to deserve this treatment from a guy. After everything I’ve done to people, the universe still chooses to bring me good karma.

  “I got you something,” he says. His smile falters, and his brows bump together.

  “Of course you did,” I say, attempting to cheer him up from whatever has him down. He smiles and pulls me from my seat.

  I follow behind him as he walks to his living room. Our places couldn’t be more different. Exposed brick lines the back of his duplex. Two windows open to a quiet street. My apartment is a skyline level and modern. Our places represent our personalities; the complete opposite, but somehow, it works. I don’t know what I am expecting to see, but his recent book isn’t my first thought.

  “I have a copy of this, you know?” I tease him as I look between him and the book that is set on the table.

  “That one is special,” he says, matter of fact. He brings the rim of his glass to his lips, watching me intently. He is so odd sometimes.

  “Is it signed? Because my other copy is signed…” I ask, and he rolls his eyes at me. I don’t handle gifts well.

  “Just open it,” he says. He laughs, but I can tell he is serious.

  I take the book from the coffee table, smiling. There is always a reason for his madness. It feels light. I flip to the title page and find a note.

  Natalie, my love, this very book brought you to me.

  It seemed right that I would use it to convince you to spend the rest of your life with me.

  I’ve been told that I am better at writing than speaking.

  If you have any doubts, reread this story and see that I’ve loved you since the first time we spent time together.

  I have no words. None; zero; Sarcasm can’t get me out of this one. After seeing a bookmark, I flip to the page that’s marked. The last chapter. Or as I call it, the happily ever after chapter. I am that corny.

  The bookmark is brown leather. It has the date on it and under it is engraved Your happily ever after starts today. I move the marker and find a circle cut out of the book.

  A ring.

&
nbsp; He’s kneeling on his knee when I look up. He takes the ring from the book and grabs my hand. I am confident my face would be a sight to see. I am not a crier; I never have been, but I am positive I look like I’ve seen a ghost as a single tear streak down my face.

  “Our life won’t be a fairytale…it won’t be perfect, but I promise I’ll try to make your happily ever after come true every day. Natalie Conner, will you marry me?”

  “Yes!” I am not sure if I yelled or whispered just as long as I got the word out. I never in a million years dreamed that I would want this.

  He slipped the beautiful, round diamond on my finger. I couldn’t stop staring. I looked at Collin. He was looking at me in the way I never thought I wanted. This is it. He’s the real deal. The past doesn’t define my future. There is no running this time.

  I am bored; that’s my only excuse. Tabatha and I are sitting outside Jack’s house, ringing the doorbell continuously. They would probably hit it off, I thought. I study the small, ranch- style home. The neighborhood is peppered with toys and bikes along the yards. It is not a place I would picture a single, 29- year- old male. Would this have been ours if I wouldn't have run off? A chill runs over my body. I couldn’t imagine small-town suburbia.

  The light in the foyer comes on, and the door opens, revealing a shocked Jack. I am not sure if he is happy, shocked, or mad that his fake fiancé might me home.

  “Hi?” He says. I am not sure if it is a greeting or a question, but I don’t care.

  “Hello, liar. This is Tab, and we’re hanging out,” I say as we walk past him. He doesn’t stop me, so I take that as a good sign.

  The inside makes sense. This is a total bachelor pad. The television that sets on the entertainment center in front of two recliners is the most expensive thing as far as I could see. The outside was an illusion to get girls over I decided.

  “What are you doing here?” He asks. He doesn’t look mad now, just surprised. That is a good question though, why am I here?

  “We’re bored,” I say, shrugging my shoulders. This is true to an extent.

  “So, you just show up to people’s houses when you’re bored?” He asks, and his mouth curves into a smile.

  “Do you lie to everyone or just me?” I shoot back at him.

  His smile twitches, “Just you. Do you run out on everyone or just me?”

  “Just you,” I lie.

  He shakes his head, still smiling, but I remember that I didn’t come here to relive our past. Is it even possible for the two of us to be in a room without fighting? I ignore his argument and get down to the real reason we are here.

  “So, what are we doing tonight?” I look around the small room. There is nothing in this house. The walls are white and bare, there is hardly any furniture, and it is depressing. Men are helpless. I sit on the closest recliner and wait for him to answer.

  He rubs the back of his neck, thinking. “I just got back from chaperoning a dance…I am staying in tonight, I guess.”

  “Chaperoning?” I ask. My nose scrunches up.

  “Yeah, they make teachers do that. It is torture,” he says, adding a groan after. I smile although he’s tormented. The image of Jack chaperoning a school dance is enough to brighten my mood.

  “What do you teach?” I ask, my interest is piqued by this new insight into his life.

  "Eighth- grade math," he replies, looking satisfied. A grin appears on my face. I can completely see him doing that.

  “You were always good at math,” I say. Jack brushes his hair back, showing his big blue eyes, and smiles. I could never concentrate if my teacher looked like that.

  Tabatha clears her throat, and I realize how awkward it is getting in here. Were we having a moment? Oh, my God! I am married. Kind of. I looked down at my ring, and the guilt feels heavy. Jack follows my line of sight, frowning when he sees my ring. Without thinking, I cover it with my right hand.

  "As I said, this is Tabatha. We're bored, and I haven't been to this town in five years," I say, attempting to clear the air from our awkward as hell moment. I ruin everything.

  “I don’t go out anymore, Natty,” he says, which makes me cringe.

  "Natty?" Tab asks, laughing. I shoot her a glare, and she covers her mouth, attempting to contain her laughter. You can learn a lot about someone from visiting their hometown. This is why I never come back to this hell- hole.

  “Go to Hell. Both of you,” I say, bitterly.

  Jack watches the two of us bicker. After seeing how much fun we are, his face shifts, and I knew I could win.

  “I’ll go, but I am driving,” he says, trying to be stern.

  “I like this guy already!” Tab says.

  She mouths; I am getting wasted to me, and I nod in agreement. Jack disappears into the hallway, leaving us alone.

  “You left that?” She asks, her brows shoot up.

  “Lower your voice!” I am mortified. I look behind me, making sure he isn’t around. “I was young….we fought constantly. It wasn’t a good situation.”

  “Do you mind…” She winks. “Kidding.”

  “I think the two of you would be a good idea,” I say, shrugging. My mood soured, and that pissed me off. I came over to hook them up, and now I am pissed about it. I don’t understand myself at all.

  “Ready?” Jack comes back, dangling keys. He changed into jeans and a button-down shirt.

  “Ready,” I say, looking away from him. Seeing Tabatha check him out didn’t do anything for my mood.

  We climb into his modest, four-door truck. I sit in the back, hoping that maybe they will hit it off, my mood will get better, and my guilt will subside. It is moments like this that make me miss Collin.

  Collin.

  His name alone makes me feel physically sick. Where is he? Who is he with? How the hell did we get here? I grab my phone and pull up his messages. Our one- word responses go on for days. He always asks how I am. I am still okay, and then it is over. I type I miss you, but I delete it.

  Natalie: How are you?

  Collin: That’s my line

  Is he flirting? Annoyed? I don’t say anything back. I shouldn’t be texting him. Honestly, I should probably let him go by this point.

  Collin: So, how are you?

  Natalie: I’ve been better

  Collin: Let’s talk Sunday

  I am annoyed. I set my phone in my purse and try to forget about the texts.

  The week after the miscarriage, Collin got rid of everything in the nursery. We didn’t talk about it anymore. He tried to cheer me up, but after I didn’t immediately cheer up, he checked out. I am all sarcasm and hard- ass, but behind that, I am a baby. I needed him, but he needed to drink.

  Maybe that’s what I get for marrying a man from halfway across the world without knowing his past family and friends. He had briefly mentioned to me that his childhood wasn’t the best before his parents died and he used to drink, but I thought he was past that. As much as I try to help, I refuse to be brought down by other people.

  This happened less than one year into the marriage. People said the first year was the hardest. The week after the first year mark, I asked him to leave.

  I wiped my eyes and looked out of the window. Here I was, hours away from him, going out with friends and he still made me cry.

  “You okay back there?” Jack asks.

  “Never better,” I reply.

  “Where are we going?” Tab asks. She was oblivious to what was happening in the back seat. Jack hesitated before he answered.

  “I’ll find a bar….but they are all packed with college kids,” he says, sighing.

  “Sounds like my kind of scene,” she says, and I smile at her.

  In another life, I want to be like Tabatha. Sure her life isn’t perfect, nobody has a perfect life, but her attitude makes it damn close. She’s so upbeat and happy no matter what. As if she knows I am thinking how much fun she is, she turns the radio up.

  “I love this song!” She shouts over the music to Jack.
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  “You’ll fit right in,” he shouts back, grinning at her. I frown at that.

  Against my silent protests, Jack pulls into the bar we spent most of our college time partying in. The memories, what I can remember, come flooding back to me, threatening to drown me at any moment. My life wasn’t supposed to be like this. I looked at Jack, who was now getting out of the truck and followed him.

  “Remember this place?” Jack asks, grinning at me.

  “How could I forget?” I ask, groaning. I don’t want to remember this place.

  “What’s the story?” Tab asks, her eyes bouncing between us.

  “No story. Just a bunch of dumb, drunk college kids paying this place bills,” I say, and they laugh.

  Jack shakes his head. “Natalie here, before she was a big shot, threw up in this parking lot at least once a week.”

  Tabatha burst into laughter, and Jack seemed pleased with himself. I shot Jack a glare, before looking at Tabatha, sincerely.

  “I did not,” I lied.

  Jack nodded, looking at Tabatha, “She used to be fun.”

  “How do you know I am not fun? You don’t know who I am anymore,” I said, more harshly than I intended.

  The group stopped. I watched Jack’s face turn deep red as his eyes danced across my face. I wanted to pull all of the ugly words from the air and shove them back into my mouth, never thinking of them again.

  “Yeah, guess you’re right. I never really knew you,” he says, before turning around. He begins walking again, and I am stopped dead in my tracks.

  “I didn’t mean it like that…” I said, completely embarrassed by how far I took things. I shouldn’t leave the house when I am emotional. I am even worse of a person than usual.

  “It is fine, Natty, it doesn’t matter anymore,” he says, harshly.

  “You’re right,” I say so softly, I am confident they didn’t hear me.

  Tabatha is standing next to us, unsure of what to say. The tension can be felt four states away. I look at her, silently begging her to fix my mess. All of my messes.

  “Let’s take shots,” she says.