All the Lies

by Charlotte Byrd

  I don't know if it's just a man thing or if women do this as well, but I've noticed that whenever I'm in a group of strangers we all seem to measure each other up by figuring out where we stand in the financial pecking order.

  “Actually, Liam is here to talk to me about getting some of his money invested in the fund,” Alex cuts me off just as I'm about to open my mouth and say some more inappropriate things. “Liam, George here is one of my biggest investors.”

  “Oh, yeah? What are your thoughts?”

  I look up at a man with reddish blond hair and freckles, which gives him a boyish look.

  “I wouldn't trust my money with anyone else,” George says.“Although from what I've heard, he’s not taking on any new people.”

  “Where did you hear that?” Alex asks, taking a sip of scotch.

  “Your father. I had a few friends that I thought would place their money with you as well, but when you were busy, your secretary put them through to your father and that's what he told me.”

  “Yeah, we've had a few conversations about that. He wants to limit the number of investors that we bring in and increase the amount of money that they give to us. I think that there's nothing wrong with opening ourselves up to more money from friends and family. Please don't worry about that. One of these days, Father will let me run this thing the way that it should be run and everything will be fine.”

  After George and his friends walk away to mingle with the rest of the crowd, Alex turns to me and laughs.

  “I forgot how much you like to fuck with people,” he says.

  “Why?” I ask innocently. “Did I offend him?”

  Alex shakes his head and gets us another round of drinks.

  “I just happen to think that there's more to us than what they have in the bank,” I say. “I'm sorry that George didn't agree with me.”

  “That is something George will never agree with.”

  Alex uses this as a lead way to start telling me about his investment fund. I know that it’s probably a good idea to put my money in there, he has an excellent reputation and that's technically why I came here, but I'm not really in the mood to talk about it now.

  I glance over to Emma, who is standing against the wall, practically hugging it.

  “I completely forgot.” Alex is ushering me toward her. “Let me introduce you to my fiancée.”

  I hesitate but I have no choice. I decide to take her lead. If she pretends that we have never met, then I'll go along with it.

  Alex introduces her by grabbing her left hand and showing me her big ring. From the outside, you wouldn't know that anything is wrong.

  I guess that's the thing about pretending.

  We all do it, right?

  That's what everyone keeps telling me and that's exactly why I live out there on my acreage all by myself as far away from people as possible.

  After we shake hands, Emma cowers into herself but remains standing before me. In the bright light of the room, she looks small and insecure, but still undeniably beautiful. She has big eyes and beautiful shiny hair that cascades down her shoulders.

  Alex keeps talking even though neither of us give him much encouragement except for a brief nod here and there. Instead, our eyes stay focused on one another's and I realize just how difficult this moment is for her.

  “Emma and I are planning on going to Laguna Beach this weekend. We got a suite right on the beach. It's not going to be particularly warm. It's not Hawaii, of course, or the Caribbean, but you know, we’ll try to have fun.”

  Emma’s eyes dart to Alex.

  She shakes her head, but just a little bit. I wait for her to finally cave and forgive him, but she surprises me.

  “No,” she says.

  The word comes out strong and categorical.

  Assertive.

  “What?” Alex asks.

  A plastic smile appears on his face, the kind that we all use when we want to get someone to stop saying things that we don't agree with.

  “No, I'm not going to Laguna Beach this weekend and no, Liam, Alex is not my fiancé.”

  “Honey, let's just not do this right here.”

  “Okay,” she says, crossing her arms. “Let's not. The only problem is that this is our engagement party. This is my parents’ home and you're here. Why are you here?”

  “You know perfectly well,” he says under his breath. “My family and their friends flew in from New York and everywhere else. I couldn’t just not come.”

  “You could have not been fucking your boss and then we wouldn't be in this mess.”

  I take a step back and my mouth opens a little bit. I have never seen a scene like this unfold in front of my eyes.

  Of course, we have seen plenty of this on television and movies, but to actually witness the unraveling of an engagement, that's quite something.

  “Look what we are doing,” Alex says. “You're making my friend uncomfortable.”

  I raise my hands up in the air and say, “No.”

  “Listen,” Emma says, quieting her voice. “I told you that this wedding is off. Yet you can't seem to get that through your head. I know that it is one thing for my mom to say stuff like that, but you are the one that hurt me. You are the one that I caught cheating. It's over. You clearly never cared about me and you clearly don't now. Why are you here putting on this charade?”

  12

  Emma

  I don't know why I am here.

  I don't know why I'm talking to him.

  I feel like Liam and I shared a moment and I thought that I might have found a friend. Maybe not a friend, but at least a friendly face. But looking at him now, I know he’s on Alex’s side.

  I don’t care. I deserve better than this asshole and I know that even if no one else does.

  Alex keeps trying to talk to me, but I just walk away. I've repeated myself enough and it's still not getting through to him.

  Alex follows me until I disappear in the bathroom.

  Frustrated, annoyed, and trapped in my own parents’ home, I open my phone and stare at the messages. I scroll through a million useless tweets and pretty images on Instagram.

  A few videos pop up, but I quickly turn those off. I don't have the energy to watch or engage on any level beyond the very basic.

  I'm not sure what leads me to his social media besides my own frustration at my predicament, but I search for D. B. Carter's name in the search bar on Facebook. He has over 100,000 followers, which is quite a lot for a fantasy author without a television show or who isn't JRR Martin or Tolkien.

  I scroll through the main posts on his page trying to glean any personal information, but there are just posts about his new releases and promotions. There's a free book and there is another book on sale for $.99. Along with that, he also has a brand-new release that just came out last week.

  I turn my attention to Amazon and decide to count up all the books he has written. I get to seventy-eight before I lose track when my sister knocks on the door.

  Brooke is two years younger than I am and she is as girlie as Lindsey. Brooke is something of a mystery to both Lindsey and me. She's a big girl, like I am, but unlike me she actually seems to have mastered this whole-body acceptance thing and loves herself for who she is.

  She likes fashion, makeup, and dressing up. She has an Instagram with about 50,000 followers and she posts new pictures every day with an outfit of the day. She's not a huge influencer, but whatever she promotes, people buy and a lot of brands know that.

  “Listen, can you please stop moping about your engagement? Come out here and look at this bikini picture that I’m about to post.”

  I open the door and reluctantly let her in.

  The picture is of her sitting on one of the loungers in front of the pool, earlier in the day. She's lying on her side and has an inquisitive and flirty expression on her face.

  Brooke is plus-sized. I'm not exactly sure what size she wears now, but she's a good twenty pounds heavier than I am.

 
“Are you showing me this to make me feel bad?” I ask, looking at how she spreads herself out in the picture.

  “Feel bad? Why?”

  “You look fucking hot.” She’s so full of confidence, it just makes me want to cry. Not only did I just get cheated on, but I will also probably never look as beautiful as she does in that picture.

  “You’re just saying that,” she says, rolling her eyes and shrugging her shoulders.

  Dressed in a yellow floral print dress that accentuates all of her ample assets, she looks like a goddess. Lindsey is pretty, tall, thin, and everything that the media will tell you an attractive girl is supposed to look like, but it's Brooke who is drop dead gorgeous.

  “I told you,” Brooke says. “You can't listen to Mom. Lindsey means well, but she's clueless. They both have no idea what kind of world we are living in.”

  “Excuse me?” Mom walks up to us and clears her throat. “Are you actually advising my child not to listen to me?”

  She likes to say that kind of thing to get under our skin and it works every time.

  Mom glances at Brooke’s phone. Brooke clicks through some of the photos, stopping on the last one where she is lying on her back with her legs spread out. She shows it to Mom, specifically to gauge her level of shock. If she isn't appalled enough, then there's no way that she will be posting it.

  Mom doesn't take the bait and instead says, “Honey, you know that I think that you are beautiful, right? No matter what you're wearing or how you are putting yourself out there.”

  Then to put the nail in the coffin, she goes over and presses her lips to Brooke’s forehead for a kiss.

  Brooke looks angry, but I wait.

  If Mom adds a “but” or any other kind of qualifier to that statement then Mom remains the judgmental, old-fashioned, and out of touch person that we both know that she is. But if she leaves it at that…then Mom wins.

  “Okay, I will leave you two alone. I know that you have a lot to talk about,” Mom says and my mouth drops open.

  Brooke is fuming, but her anger is just below the surface. She runs a website promoting body acceptance for women of all sizes. But what strangers don’t know is that she also does it to get a rise out of Mom.

  “Wow, is this how it's going to be? Does Mom finally get it after all this time?” she asks when Mom gets out of earshot.

  “You know, honey,” Mom says, tucking her head back into the room. “In my day, women tried to find the most flattering clothes they could because we all knew we had our imperfections, no matter our size.”

  There.

  It happened.

  It finally fucking happened.

  Mom hasn't changed at all. She just learned how to bite her tongue and stay in her lane.

  I work my eyes over to Brooke, who unlike me, has never been particularly shy in keeping her mouth shut.

  I admire her greatly for that, something that I rarely say out loud.

  In fact, it’s something that I have never told her.

  “There are no such things as flattering or unflattering clothes,” Brooke says, crossing her arms. “There are clothes that I want to wear and there are clothes that I don't want to wear. I'm choosing to embrace all parts of me and love me for who I am. I’m not going to spend my days hating myself and killing myself with diet pills.”

  My mom is about to say something else when Brooke cuts her off again.

  “In my day, Mom, women realize that all bodies are beautiful and that we can wear whatever the hell we want.”

  With that, Brooke drops the metaphorical mic and walks out of the bathroom, shutting the door in Mom’s face.

  I realize in this moment that I have never admired my sister more. She has always been the one to speak her mind and to challenge authority, but this is exactly the kind of courage that I needed to see today.

  Mom wants me to be quiet.

  She wants me to forgive Alex because men make mistakes or whatever the hell she said.

  I don't have to accept someone treating me like shit as the status quo. I deserve better and I can demand better.

  “Wow,” I say, taking Brooke by the arm and leading her out to the balcony on the opposite side from the party.

  “I loved the expression on her face when she saw the last picture.” Brooke laughs.

  “You know that despite all of that she loves you, right?” I ask.

  Brooke shakes her head.

  “No?” I ask.

  “She sees us, her children, as a reflection of her. I don't think she really sees us as independent people. Lindsey looks and lives her life according to the rules. She's tall and beautiful and she takes care of herself. She has a wealthy husband and a big house. I'm not Lindsey.”

  “I don't think that she wants you to be Lindsey. She loves you for you.”

  “No,” Brooke says. “She doesn't even know who I am. I doubt that she has ever even been on my website. She has no idea what I stand for. She has no idea what all of those videos I make mean. I know that she won't say it out loud, but she thinks that fat people are bad people. She thinks that there's something wrong with them and their will or their way of life that makes them that way.”

  I shrug.

  I don't really know how to respond. That’s pretty much what my mom thinks.

  “Why are you taking her side anyway? She's the one that made you go through with this party. She's the one that still thinks that you should marry that asshole.”

  “She told me that men make mistakes and that we have to be accommodating,” I say. “She told me that Dad cheated on her before they got married.”

  Brooke stares at me. I don’t know if she knows this and I debated with myself as to whether or not I should tell her.

  But then she rolls her eyes and leans over the balcony with exasperation.

  “Dad has been cheating on her their whole life. If she thinks that it only happened before they were married, then she is delusional.”

  My mouth drops open.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask.

  13

  Emma

  I stare at my sister. She is someone that I have admired my whole life even though she’s younger than I am. She’s always had the kind of confidence that I craved, but I know that confidence never came that easily to her.

  In college she was actually quite shy. She never felt like she was good enough and she was always on a diet. Then something happened. She started posting all of these very empowering messages on social media and even got herself branded as something of an influencer.

  Now, with that one statement, something changes.

  It’s almost as if the person that I thought I knew has disappeared.

  I shake my head and ask, “What are you talking about?”

  She turns away from me and starts to walk away, but I grab her arm.

  “Tell me,” I demand to know. “What do you know about Mom and Dad?”

  She doesn't reply.

  “How long have you known?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Why are you telling me about this now?”

  Her face falls. She wasn’t supposed to tell me this and now she can’t take it back.

  “I wasn't going to say anything. I had no idea that she told you about his earlier infidelity. I've known about it for a while. I actually walked in on them.”

  “Walked in on who?”

  “I was there when Mom caught Dad with his girlfriend. It was so embarrassing and I just wanted the earth to split open and swallow me whole.”

  My head starts to buzz.

  I’m immediately transported to earlier today when I walked in on them. Anger starts to boil inside of me.

  My mom had gone through the exact same thing and yet she stood there and told me to take my fiancé back.

  What the hell is wrong with her?

  “Tell me exactly what happened," I demand to know.

  She takes a deep breath.

  “We were out at a restaurant for dinner.
Just the two of us. This is after you went to college and I was the only one who was left living at home.”

  “Uh-huh.” I nod.

  “We decided to stop by Dad’s office and drop off some food. It was actually my idea. Mom didn't want to go. I wonder if she had her suspicions.”

  She stops talking and looks down at the floor.

  “What happened next?” I nudge her.

  “The lights were still brightly lit everywhere except for in his office. No one was around except for a few associates here and there working in their cubicles. Mom knocked and when he didn't answer, she tried to walk away. I heard some commotion in there. I opened the door and that's when I saw them. Him and some girl. She looked at least twenty years younger. How pathetic, right?”

  I shrug.

  I don't know what to say.

  She's right. It is pathetic.

  But what do you do when it's your own father?

  “What happened after that?” I ask.

  “I ran away. Mom stayed behind, somewhat. The elevator was taking too long so I ran to the staircase and started sobbing on the landing.”

  I stared at a space somewhat behind her.

  I want to ask what happened after that, but I already know.

  If it happened when Brooke was still in high school, then Mom took him back.

  “She promised that they were going to go to therapy,” Brooke says. “I don't know if they ever did. When I tried to ask her about it again, she told me never to bring it up.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? Lindsey?”

  “She was mortified. She begged me not to. I was also embarrassed. I didn’t want you to think worse of Dad.”

  Mom did everything in her power to cover his tracks.

  “That's the whole problem,” I say after a long pause. “She protects him so much that she makes him into some sort of saint.”

  “You know, this is why I didn't want to tell you,” Brooke says. “You take such hard lines. People are much more complicated than this. They make mistakes.”

  “What are you trying to tell me, Brooke?” I glare at her.

  Narrowing my eyes, I purse my lips.