All the Pretty Lies

by Marin Montgomery

  “Your wife owes me money.” John shrugs. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. You pick, old man.” His yellow-stained teeth strain into a scowl.

  “Money for what, Dina?” He looks at her face, the petrified look showing her fear. I’ve never seen my mom scared in her life.

  Not of my father.

  Not of any man.

  She’s the strong one, the armor that rarely cracks under the face of pressure.

  I’ve seen her at her worst, but never terrified. Depressed, yes. Scared, no.

  “She didn’t consult you first?” The man strokes my mom’s arm wickedly as the hair on my arms stands straight up. “Why not, Dina? I thought everyone was on board.”

  Jarrett’s leaning against the wall, his eyes pleading with mine.

  He mouths “I’m sorry.”

  Sorry for what, I wonder? Being involved in a heinous crime? Bringing this thug to my parents? Setting Reed up?

  My mom says nothing. For the first time in her life, she’s silent.

  “Do I have to tie you up?” John nudges her. “I guess I could start with your daughter. She has a tendency to get locked into places. Might as well handcuff her.” He rubs his chin with the gun, deliberating. “Maybe have my way with her.”

  Jarrett’s hands clench at his sides. A storm is brewing behind his stoic façade. He starts to take a step forward. John turns to him, shoving him backwards with the butt of the gun. “Put your damn hands up where I can see them. I see the crazy look in your eyes. Don’t even think about pulling punches.”

  “What is this man talking about?” my father asks for the final time, holding the damp dish towel to his forehead, the blood staining the white starched cotton. “Dina, what the hell is going on?”

  “Your wife hired me to kill that pretty young thing.” John gives an impish grin.

  A look of pure hatred crosses my father’s face. He’s not that good of an actor. He had no involvement, of this I’m sure.

  “What is he talking about?” My father slumps into a barstool, glancing at my mom.

  “I didn’t want her dead. I just wanted her injured. Nothing drastic,” my mom whispers. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

  Jarrett stares at her in horror. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it.

  “Your wife thought the world could use one less mistress.” John winks at him.

  “Why, Mom?” I cry. “Why?”

  She’s silent for a moment, her mouth opening and closing. She bites her lip. “Reed was walking all over you. I saw the signs, you were miserable.” She shakes her head. “I remember how I felt when your father strayed and I…I didn’t want that for you. Reed’s a weak man, and he never deserved you.” The room spins. I feel like I’m going to be sick, the dizziness forces me to slump against the wall.

  “Did you know?” I look to my father, tears streaming down my face. Jarrett steps forward, a finger ready to brush the tears off my cheek. John stops his forward momentum with a growl.

  My father can’t speak. A quick nod of his head gives me my answer.

  My mom raises her voice as she addresses John. “I paid you what we agreed upon.”

  “Yeah, you did.” John gives a snide look to each of us. “Unfortunately, the price changed when she took her last breath.” An evil laugh escapes his lips. “It was a death murmur, but whatever. It sounded beautiful to me.”

  “You can’t do that.” She’s inconsolable. “You can’t. I didn’t want you to kill her.”

  “Too bad. She deserved it.”

  “Why? For sleeping with my husband?” I screech, barreling towards him. “Why would you kill someone for that?” This time Jarrett takes moves towards me, reaching for my arms. I shrug out of his grip as John pins the barrel on my face.

  “Stop where you are.” He points the gun at my nose and then twists to Jarrett. “I’ll ruin that pretty complexion of yours just like I did to her.”

  I gasp, my knees buckling.

  “It’s a sin. Everyone wants to act on their emotions. I did you a favor.” He grabs a fistful of my hair and twists, my head jerking violently to the side. “You’re going to be next if you don’t shut up.” He pulls me to my full height, slamming me against the cherry cabinets.

  Jarrett lunges at him. “Don’t you dare,” John screams at him.

  “Don’t touch her.” My mother moans. “We’ll give you some money.” She turns to my father. “Henry, give the man some money.”

  “We don’t have any.” My father’s in shock, but his voice is aloof.

  My mom’s stunned. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s all gone.”

  “How can that be?”

  “Gambling,” I murmur. “Alcohol.”

  “You’re gambling again?” She’s incredulous.

  “And you hired someone to murder our son-in-law’s lover?” My father drips sarcasm I didn’t know he was capable of in the moment. “Why not just have Reed offed, Dina? Why the girl?”

  She wails. “I didn’t want him to kill her, I swear. I swear, Henry, I wouldn’t have done that.” She slides off her barstool and collapses onto the floor, crumbling into a ball.

  “What now?” I ask.

  “Great question.” John opens the refrigerator, examining the contents. Conversational, he turns to me. “You’re all dead.”

  He pivots around, pointing to my mom.

  “You’re first, Dina.” He aims the gun. It’s as if I’m watching in slo-mo. Jarrett dives in front of her, my father gripping his chest, my mouth wide open as I scream in agony.

  A shot rings out the same time the boom of thunder punches through the sky. I used to think it was God bowling, the clap a strike or spare, the ball connecting with the pins - at least that’s what my mother told me was happening.

  Thinking back, I remember her reading me story after story, trying to calm me down, the nervous look on my face as I hid under the covers, pulling the quilt my nana made me tight around my shoulders. I would slide down as far as I could, only my eyes peeking out, the room bathed in darkness except for the occasional flash of light.

  Finally, after an especially bad night of terrified shrieks and tears, she told me the story about the bowling ball.

  The next time, she said God was having a dance party, the noise the music as it thundered across the sky.

  She was only trying to protect you.

  I’m remiss, brought back to the present, the howl of my mother interrupting my thoughts.

  Jarrett’s grabbing his left shoulder in pain, a miserable look as he holds the spot the bullet entered. Just as I’m about to run and tackle the man, there’s a crash, wood splintering and heavy footsteps resounding as I make eye contact with a pack of men in black uniforms shuffling in.

  Detective Walsh comes running in behind them, his face flushed.

  “Drop the gun,” he shouts as another individual attacks John. A bullet strikes the ceiling, hitting a copper pot as it bounces off and changes trajectory.

  My father’s grunting on the tile, his hand over his heart.

  “Father,” I shriek. “He’s having a heart attack. Somebody help.” Jarrett tries to scoot over, a trail of blood running down his V-neck as he moves his hand from his left side.

  “Jarrett!” I wail. “Somebody help them.”

  A squad of paramedics enters as the men wrestle John to the ground. They drag him into the dining room, his body flailing, the ball cap losing its place on his semi-bald head.

  I’m crying at the blood and Jarrett’s peaked complexion. His face is the color of a porcelain doll.

  I sink to my knees beside him, reaching for his hand. I hold tight, trembling, his big palm enveloping mine weakly.

  “Jarrett, I love you,” I murmur in his ear, tears flooding my line of sight as the room becomes blurry. He doesn’t answer, yet he squeezes my hand in response. The gravity of the situation, the weight of my feelings for this man become concise in this moment.

  The par
amedics step between us as I frantically try to keep ahold of him.

  “Stop.” My mom commands. “Let him go.” They help him onto a stretcher as I let his hand drop, his eyes closing.

  I can’t look at her, knowing she killed someone else’s daughter. Knowing the danger she put her grandchildren in. It didn’t matter that her hand didn’t twist the knife into Talin’s back.

  It only matters that she’s involved.

  What if that had been me?

  “I was only trying to protect you,” she whispers. “I thought if she got hurt, Reed would reconsider his choices and it would end. I didn’t want her dead.”

  There’s something in her voice that makes her unbelievable. Maybe the refusal to take accountability, maybe the ‘poor me’ tone.

  She wanted Talin to die for the sins committed in her own marriage.

  I think of my father, the wreckage of the past. After his affair, they struggled to stay afloat. She was never the same, her mood ever changing, her personality cold and detached.

  Detective Walsh looks from me to her, the uncanny resemblance, our voices similar, my face a younger version of hers.

  We share so much. Yet, I think sadly, we’re not. She’s not strong. Invincible.

  I would have divorced Reed before anything else.

  She could’ve divorced my father, but she didn’t.

  A change in lifestyle was too drastic for her tastes. So she stayed, dying inside every year until she snapped.

  Sinking to my knees, I give her a kiss on the cheek as she brushes a tear from my eye.

  One of the policemen help her stand. The wealthy woman in an impeccable suit will be splashed across the evening news, a shock to Texans everywhere.

  But she was so nice, they’ll all say.

  Epilogue

  Meghan

  Reed’s been released from jail, a date set for a hearing regarding his driving under the influence. All other charges have been dropped.

  The boys and I pick him up when he’s released. He looks gaunt, his pants hang on him, his belt loose around his waist. Besides his slim frame, he’s intact, his smile genuine and the squeals Henry and Rolly make causing tears to spring to my eyes.

  “Daddy,” they shriek. “Daddy, Mommy said you were on a trip, but we saw you on Nana’s TV. You went to jail, that’s so cool.”

  “Can we tell Sam and Max?” Henry mentions two brothers they play with down the street. Leave it to young boys to think their dad is a hero for his stint behind bars.

  Reed’s flabbergasted. Instead of answering, he scoops them up, one in each arm, their tiny hands wrapping tightly around his neck.

  I smile, the first one in days, the father and son bond still intact.

  Ours might be tainted, but he’s still their father.

  I loved this man once. He taught me about love and relationships. He also taught me about loss. How relationships can be complex and wither away even when you try to contain them.

  “Was it like cops and robbers?” Rolly asks.

  “Daddy, were you a good guy?” Henry whispers.

  He cracks a smile, his wan face exuding warmth. “Of course.”

  “Who was the bad guy, Daddy?” Henry tugs on Reed’s ear.

  I exchange a terse look with Reed. We know we can’t shield them from everything, they already saw their father on the news.

  But their nana…

  I cringe, the painful realization my own mother will be crucified on television, and the impact it will have on my children in the future. I don’t make light of what she did or her actions. It isn’t the woman I know, and I’ll have to separate in some capacity the mother I grew up with and the heinous crime she committed.

  I think of Talin a lot, a kind of survivor guilt, as weird as it sounds. I guess since my own mother was complicit in her death, I feel a sense of responsibility. As much as I tried to hate her, I never could.

  Neither one of them.

  Once upon a time, I was her. A free spirit, a blossoming twenty-something that had the world at my fingertips. She fell in love. Head over heels. It just happened to be with my husband.

  As crazy as it sounds, I paid for her headstone since she had no living family of her own. She’s buried next to Cale, her fiancé. I visited her grave once, resting yellow tulips there.

  Reed also went to visit, but we never talked about it. I know he loved her. And I wish everyday it could’ve ended on a different note - the divorce would have been painful, I would’ve acted childish and abrasive.

  And then I would’ve gotten over it.

  My mom’s a different story, her part in this unnerving, a tiger mom that went into attack mode. A side of her I never knew, never will understand. As a mother, we try and shield our children from hurt. We comfort their skinned knees and wipe their tears at the lack of humility in the world. We can’t keep them in a bubble, protected from the world.

  But in my worst nightmares, I can’t imagine the same response. Hurting someone else’s daughter.

  Apparently Texas can’t imagine her hurting someone else’s child either.

  She’s an upstanding member of the community. Gives to the needy, donates her time to various charitable organizations. Owen plays golf with the judge and though it’s frowned upon to garner favors, he gets a dynamite one.

  Dina gets house arrest until her trial.

  John gets a break as well. He’s expedited back to Oregon, his life literally saved. If this had happened in Texas, he would’ve gotten the death penalty.

  My father begs me to come and visit. She’s inconsolable, and she keeps asking for me. She sleeps on the couch, bottles of pain and sleeping pills at her side, numbing the bleakness and the nightmares she has.

  Owen calls and advocates on her behalf, reminding me she’s still my mom.

  I demur but stay silent, scrunching my nose in annoyance.

  It isn’t until Reed asks me to forgive her that I consider her request to see me.

  The afternoon I go to my parent’s house is reminiscent of the night Jarrett got shot and I lost the mother I knew.

  I did gain my husband back though.

  For some reason, I don’t feel right using my key to enter the house, it’s as if I’m intruding. Or maybe it’s because I hate feeling like this is where I came from, wealth and privilege, yet a dark secret harbored behind these walls.

  I’m ashamed of her.

  I knock, barely making a closed fist against the door.

  Sighing, I pound harder.

  My mother pads to the door, pink slippers on her feet, a stained nightgown behind the glass. I hear the lock click open, her eyes peeking through a crack.

  “Meghan?”

  “Yeah, it’s me.” I gulp, unsure what to say.

  The door swings open all the way. “Oh Meghan, I’m so glad to see you.” She’s obtuse about her state of undress, her fingernails yellowed and ripped as she steps back to let me in.

  A haze of smoke envelopes me. I choke down a whiff of nicotine and cough vehemently. She either doesn’t notice or care.

  She shuffles to the couch, blankets and pillows in various disarray across the usually tidy living room. An ashtray has found its way to the coffee table and open pill bottles are scattered on the glass surface.

  She sinks down as if she just got done running a marathon. “Sit.” She pats the cushion next to her, pushing aside a queen size sheet that she’s been sleeping on.

  I hesitate, the unkempt hair and vacuous look in her eyes an anomaly.

  “We need to talk,” she whispers.

  Biting my lip, I squeeze into the corner of the couch.

  “I owe you an explanation.” She reaches for her Bic lighter, the neon green the only bright thing in the room besides her orange pill bottles.

  My father has never permitted smoking in the house. And she’s never wanted the obnoxious smell where guests could sniff out her bad habits, though she managed to snuff out Reed’s.

  My mother tells me she became suspi
cious of Reed a few months ago, his demeanor off and his personality in the office standoffish and testy. The concern grew when she saw some texts that popped up on his phone when he was careless and a hushed phone conversation he took while at work.

  Her gut was right about these kinds of things.

  So she followed him.

  When she got to the airport and watched him board a plane for a different destination than his supposed business trip, the antenna went up.

  When he took a trip to Mexico with Talin, she lost it and flew to Portland, a plan in her mind.

  An accomplice, a partner in crime is what she needed.

  I wasn’t any wiser when she was gone for a few days, claiming a few more nips and tucks.

  She found John in a biker bar in a seedy part of town.

  It was perfect in her mind - he would trail Talin and report back to her, waiting for the perfect opportunity to hurt her. He had pried a window open and recorded her conversations, his previous experience helpful as he surfed between couches and his friends’ basements.

  As soon as John alerted her an alarm system was to be installed, she knew he had to act.

  My mother wanted to frame Reed and get him out of the way at the same time. She thought her plan was foolproof.

  And it almost worked.

  They agreed on a sum and with most, John blew through the thirty thousand my mom had paid from her own bank account, half in advance, half after it was done.

  But John wanted more.

  Always more.

  And between my father’s addiction and her shopping, the exorbitant requests were ignored. She thought John would disappear. She didn’t perceive him as a threat, he was of a different breed, a lower caliber than her. She thought money and class would keep him at bay. He was a dim-witted criminal, or so she told herself.

  She stopped answering his calls, rebuffed his demands.

  When John showed up at Jarrett’s bar, he stopped for a drink before continuing to the Bishop residence. As much as my mom knew about him, which was nil, he knew to keep her in his line of vision.

  Jarrett was confused when John showed up asking about our family, his alarm bells ringing as he tried to warn the man off.

  Until I showed up and John recognized me from my day trip.