The Truth in My Lies

by Ivy Smoak

  “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  I laughed. “No. It’s true. She said it to me on numerous occasions. She blamed me for my father leaving. Everything that went wrong with her life, she put that on me. And she wasn’t afraid to voice that. But when she got sick, none of that mattered. Blood is blood. It was my responsibility to take care of her.

  “I had this brilliant idea that if I found my dad, maybe he’d help me. Maybe he felt guilty for leaving. Maybe he’d suddenly care. I know how ridiculous…”

  “It’s not. It’s not ridiculous to think someone would care about you.”

  I swallowed hard. Ben believed in me so strongly. But I was weak. And pathetic. And so freaking stupid. “He left my mother as soon as I was born. Trust me, he didn’t care. But I didn’t really have any other options.

  “I looked everywhere. But I couldn’t find him. It was like he disappeared after my birth. No records, no anything. And I was growing desperate. My studies were slipping. I was working night shifts and it wasn’t even close to enough.

  “And then I met my husband.” I rubbed the spot on my finger where my engagement ring and wedding band were supposed to be. It felt good to not be weighed down by the precious metals. “He kind of just appeared when I needed him most. He was graduating in the spring and already had this amazing job lined up. He had a hefty inheritance after his parents died in a car accident a few years prior. And he was charming and such a smooth talker. He was everything my mom wanted for me.” Even if it was all a lie. “He promised me the world. He’d pay my debts. He’d pay for my mom’s treatment. He even hired a PI to help me find my dad.” God, there were so many signs.

  “Sounds too good to be true.”

  If only he knew. “Something like that. We got married right after he graduated. Only a month and a half after we met. I dropped out of college because he thought it was best. And I wanted to give him what he wanted so that he’d deliver on his promises.”

  “Did he?”

  “Yes. Every single one. My debts vanished. He started paying for my mom’s treatment and he kept looking for my dad.” I didn’t want to tell him anymore. But all of this made my husband look like a saint. I had to keep going. I bit the inside of my lip, trying to keep the demons inside.

  “How is your mom now?” Ben asked, breaking the silence.

  “She’s dead.” That was the simplest way to put it.

  “I’m sorry, Addy.”

  “It’s okay.” It wasn’t. Nothing about her death was okay. But he was skipping too far ahead in my story. This wasn’t coming out right.

  “And did you find your father?”

  I looked down at my hands. “Yes.”

  “Did you get to have a relationship with him?”

  “I talked to him. Once.” I could still remember his eyes. I had never seen so much fear in someone’s eyes before. Except maybe my own. Sometimes when I looked in the mirror, my eyes looked just like his. “He’s since passed.” Wording it that way made me cringe.

  “Addy, I’m so sorry.”

  I shook my head. I didn’t want to talk about my lack of family or their untimely demise. Ben would recognize my husband as a monster because of what he did to me. Not my family. Besides, if I was to believe my husband, it was my fault that they died. And deep down I knew that was true. I had led my husband right to them.

  “None of that’s really important,” I said.

  “Do you have any other family?”

  I forced my hands to stay still. Because it was tempting to touch my stomach. It was tempting to remember the pain of almost having a family again. “No. It was always just my mother and me. And now that she’s gone…” I’m all alone, Ben. Please don’t leave me too.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I wish he’d stop saying that. I hated when people said they were sorry when they hadn’t done anything wrong. Probably because I was all too quick to say it to my husband when he was the one that needed to apologize.

  “I didn’t even really mean to talk about losing my parents. What I’m trying to say…God, you’re going to think I’m crazy.”

  “I promise I’m not going to think you’re crazy.”

  He would if he knew how I lost the capability of making decisions for my wellbeing. If I told him the story about how I landed myself in a psych ward. But I couldn’t tell him about that day. Because I wasn’t exactly sure when I lost my mind. How could I tell a story I didn’t understand?

  I pulled my knees to my chest, letting the ice pack fall from my ankle. “I wanted to get to know him better. I had gotten enchanted by the idea of a knight in shining armor. But I kind of dismissed how important it was to see what was beneath the metal. I had been so swept up in this whirlwind that I realized I didn’t really know the man who saved me.”

  I laughed. It sounded sad and weak. Just as vulnerable as I felt. “I started asking him questions. I was curious about the roots of his last name and his ancestry. I wanted to know if he had any other family. I just wanted to know him. I didn’t even mean to pry. And I was changing my last name to his. I wanted to know what I was becoming, if that makes any sense.”

  I was rambling. I didn’t want to tell Ben any more than necessary. It would just give him more reason to judge me. “But he wouldn’t talk to me about anything but work. Which was fine. I let it go. But a few weeks later, I got a certified copy of our marriage certificate in the mail. I needed it for my name change. I hadn’t looked at his parts before. I had just signed mine, eager to get on with it. So it was kind of exciting to look through it.

  “There were so many inconsistencies in that document. It terrified me. A different date of birth. Even his parents didn’t have the same last name as him. I didn’t think it was odd that his family didn’t protest our elopement. Because his parents were dead and he was an only child. I didn’t have any cousins or anything either. And my mother wasn’t upset that she couldn’t attend. She was just thrilled that I was getting married. But there was something unsettling about the fact that his parents’ last names weren’t Bell.

  “So I asked him about it. And he said he was adopted and that no one really knew his birth date and that it was hard for him to talk about. He immediately changed the subject.

  “But I couldn’t let it go. I had this nagging feeling that something was wrong. I should have been sympathizing with him. If what he said was true then his whole childhood had vanished, you know? But I never, not even once, believed his story. Nothing was adding up. So I looked up the names of his parents and I found a phone number. I couldn’t not call it. And when I did…a woman answered. I asked to speak to her son and she said he wasn’t home. She said his name, Ben. And I know what you’re thinking…it could be a coincidence. But what are the odds that all three of them would have the same names as my husband and his parents?”

  “I don’t know, Addy.” He shifted in his chair. He looked uncomfortable, but he wasn’t staring at me like I was crazy.

  “I think pretty slim. So I figured he'd lied to me. About everything. Who he was, the fact that his parents died in a car crash, all of it. So I confronted him and he said he had no idea what I was talking about. He told me the same sad story about his childhood. He was so smooth, like always. And when I tried that number again to prove to him that I wasn’t lying, it was disconnected.

  “But I couldn’t let it go. I was obsessed with his lies. And the more questions I asked, the more he started to change. He started throwing my own familial problems back in my face. He became cold and distant and evasive. And then…I guess I started asking one too many questions and he started…punishing me.”

  Ben’s posture stiffened. “What do you mean?”

  I pointed to the ice pack on my shoulder. I was pretty sure his nostrils flared. But I couldn’t be sure. “His words hurt, but I never expected him to be that way. I stopped asking questions. But he never stops.”

  “He’s hurting you?”

  I nodded my head.

  “Ad
dy, we need to call the police.”

  “They won’t listen,” I said with a shrug. “They think I’m crazy.”

  “That’s bullshit. If he’s hurting you, we can show them the evidence. I knew you didn’t injure your shoulder falling. I knew it and I didn’t press it. Come on, we’re going down to the police station.” He stood up, like our evening had been decided.

  “It’s a waste of time.” I looked out the window. “I’m a clumsy housewife who has a tendency to hurt myself for attention.”

  “Addy, I can vouch for you. I’m the eyewitness you need. I can help you. Let’s go down there right now and get him arrested.”

  I shook my head. “Ben, there is only one way out.”

  “The police…”

  “No.” I didn’t want to tell him the real reason why the police wouldn’t listen. That I was crazy. He wouldn’t understand. And I wasn’t ready for him to stop looking at me like he wanted to devour me. Instead of looking at me like I was insane. “I have to kill him.”

  So much for that. He was already looking at me like I had lost my mind.

  Chapter 27

  “If we don’t kill him, he’ll kill us,” I said. “He’ll definitely at least kill you.”

  Ben laughed. “Wouldn't it be easier to just divorce the guy?”

  “It’s not that simple, Ben. He’s dangerous. He’s taken everything from me. And running is useless. He found my dad who was trying to remain hidden. And I don’t know the first thing about disappearing.”

  Ben's expression turned serious. "You're right then. We have to kill him."

  "Okay, where do we start?" I asked.

  "We'll need the perfect plan. Does he usually come in the front door or the back door?"

  "Front door."

  "Okay," said Ben. "Do you have any paper? No, scratch that. We need poster board."

  "I think so..." I got up and rummaged through the closet. For some reason, we actually had some. I grabbed it and brought it back to Ben.

  He smoothed it out on the table and popped the cap off a sharpie with his teeth. I wasn’t sure I had ever seen anything sexier.

  He started drawing the floor plan to my house.

  "How do you know my house so well?" I asked. "You really have been snooping around a lot, huh?"

  "What? Oh.” He laughed. “My house has the same design. Anyway, what do you like better for the front door? A toolbox booby-trap above the door, or an electrocuted doorknob?"

  "Hmm...I think the electrocution would be better. But only dialed up to like, half power. Not enough to incapacitate him. The gawkers might see it if he collapses on the front porch."

  "Oh, absolutely. Good call. Electrocuted door knob it is." He drew a lightning bolt on the front door of the floor plan. "What does he usually do next?"

  Hurts me. "Walks upstairs."

  "Does he take his shoes off?"

  "Yes."

  "Okay. Why don't we smash some Christmas ornaments right in front of the stairs then."

  "Oh, I like that."

  Ben drew it on the plan. "For the stairs, there's really only one choice."

  "Loaded shotgun with a trip wire?" I asked.

  Ben shook his head. "Na, too loud. I say we put a paint can on a rope. If we make the rope just the right length, he'll take it right in the kisser."

  "And it'll knock him back onto the broken ornaments."

  "Boom. Double whammy. I love it when a plan comes together. What's next?"

  The conversation went on like that for at least half an hour. By the time we were done, the poster was covered in all sorts of booby-traps. Light fixtures replaced by blowtorches, kerosene in the toilets, staple guns hidden in door knobs. We had it all. We even had a zip-line from the bedroom window to a tree out back to use as our escape.

  "This plan is great," I said. "But I'm worried about all the evidence it will leave. What are we going to tell the police when they come looking for him?"

  "We'll just tell them that we caught the sticky bandits. They'll understand."

  "Huh?" I asked.

  "You know...in Home Alone?"

  "Wait, you're going to make me be home alone when I do this? We're going to have to rethink everything then. How am I supposed to lure him into phase 2 if you're not there to release the paint can?"

  "What? No. The movie, Home Alone. You do realize that we basically just combined all the traps from Home Alone 1 and 2 into this plan, right?"

  I laughed awkwardly. "Of course I do. So scrap all that then.” I eyed the detailed poster board. Damn, such good ideas. “Maybe we’re over-thinking it?”

  “Definitely. Let’s just go get a couple of unregistered guns with silencers and shoot him.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “It’ll be totally untraceable. Easy peasy.”

  “Yeah. Or we could ambush him when he comes home tomorrow night. We could each stand on either side of the front door and hit him with shovels when he walks in. He’d probably try to overpower me, but he wouldn’t see you coming.”

  “Sounds perfectly reasonable.”

  I didn’t expect him to be this agreeable so quickly. It was all coming together. “I’ve always thought burying him alive would be satisfying. But it’s better if we know he’s dead. So once he has no pulse we can bury him in the backyard. There’s a spot back there with a few rocks. I figured we could move them a little, dig the hole for him there then put the rocks back. That way there won’t be freshly dug dirt visible. Or maybe the woods would be better…”

  “Jesus, Addy, I was joking.”

  “But you just said…”

  “I thought we were playing around. Like a back and forth of things we’d never actually ever do. That’s why I mentioned Home Alone.”

  “Oh. Ha. Me too.” Crap, I thought he was on board. I needed to watch whatever movie that was. It seemed to have good ideas.

  “We can’t kill your husband.” He was staring at me in the way I loathed. Like my mind was slipping.

  Technically we can if you stop being so disagreeable. “I know that. Obviously. I was just joking.” I laughed awkwardly.

  “Were you, though? It sounded pretty well thought out to me.”

  “So did your plan.” God, I sounded like a child.

  “But I was actually kidding. You…” he scratched the back of his neck. “You’ve clearly planned it out.”

  I laughed. It sounded forced. “Ben, I’m not a crazy person. Of course I’m not going to murder him.” Damn it. The look he was giving me was the proof I needed. My plan was insane. Which meant all the doctors were right. That my husband was right. Just the thought made my stomach churn.

  Ben didn’t say anything. He was just staring at me, probably trying to tell whether he was safe sitting next to me. I wasn’t sure why he was looking at me like that. I had no intention of hurting him.

  I leaned forward and lightly punched his arm. “Geez, learn how to take a joke, Mr. Serious.”

  He finally laughed. “Addy, you really had me going. I thought you were a psychopath for a second there.”

  Psychopath. Huh. That stings. “You should have seen your face,” I said and laughed again. “Yeah…no…I’m not a murderer.” I tried not to sigh. “Let’s just pretend I never said anything. Do you want to watch that movie you mentioned? Home Alone?”

  He was still staring at me like I was crazy again. “You just told me that your husband beats you. No, we can’t watch a movie.”

  What did he want me to say? He wasn’t down with my awesome murderous plan and I wasn’t down with his lame plan of calling the cops. Stalemate.

  “Can we just rewind for a second,” he said and exhaled slowly. “If you don’t feel comfortable going to the cops without hard evidence, then let me help you get the evidence.”

  “How?” I thought about the box. The basement was calling for me. But I refused to go down there with Ben. It was too much. Besides, as far as I knew, the box didn’t exist. And pictures wouldn’t help anything. Pictures could be explained a
way.

  “As much as it pains me to let him put his hands on you again, we have to videotape him doing it.”

  My mind starting racing. Him calling me a psychopath was weighing on me. What if I was making everything up? What if the videos showed nothing? “I don’t know…”

  “What other option is there? You won’t go to the cops. You won’t run. If you want me to talk to him…”

  “No. You can’t, Ben. I’ll do the tapes.” I swallowed hard. “But how do you think we can get him on camera? He’d see them. And if he found the tapes…I don’t know what he’d do to me.”

  “I can have the video-feed sent to my computer instead of yours. I have a few small cameras we can use that he won’t see unless he knows to look for them.” He stood up. “I’ll go grab them and get them set up tonight. Hopefully we’ll catch him tomorrow and he’ll be behind bars by the weekend.” He started to walk out of the family room.

  “Why do you have cameras like that?”

  He stopped and turned back toward me. “Oh.” He laughed. “You know the group of deer I mentioned that roam around in the woods behind my house? They just had a fawn. I thought it would be cool to get video of her.”

  “That’s odd. Aren’t fawn usually born in the spring?”

  “Yeah. Normally the spring through early summer. Not this one, though. I’ll be right back.”

  For the first time I got the sense that maybe it wasn’t so odd for Ben to be falling for me. If he was filming some oddball fawn in his free time, he was clearly pretty lonely.

  I heard the back door shut and sighed. I had been so close to getting him to help me commit murder. But maybe this would be better. Getting evidence against my husband was better than getting myself sent to prison. I wouldn’t do well behind bars.

  But my plan was foolproof. If this deer camera thing didn’t work, I’d revert back to my first plan. This time, I’d just leave Ben out of the particulars. I was strong enough to lug my husband’s body out of the house and into the backyard. Especially once my ankle and shoulder were healed.

  I looked down at my hurt ankle. Hurry up and heal. It ached today. A throbbing pain that was almost all-consuming. Much like the feeling in my fingertips. Because they ached to feel my lovely husband’s bones snap beneath them.