Quiet Lies

by R. L. Griffin

  “Did Bash tell you Sherlock died?”

  “What?”

  “Didn’t Bash tell you he was hit by a car?”

  I shake my head vigorously.

  “He let him out one day and he ran. Bash wasn’t wearing shoes and by the time he went and got them Sherlock was gone. He found him later that week, he’d been hit by a car.”

  “He,” I stutter. “He didn’t tell me.” Why didn’t he tell me? Had I been so caught up with myself he didn’t feel like he could tell me?

  “Well he didn’t seem that bothered by it anyway. I guess he wasn’t.”

  I turn my head slowly. “His father was dying and he wasn’t allowed to see him. I think he had some other stuff going on.”

  My mother’s light eyes focus on me.

  “Why didn’t you come home?” Her bob is perfect, her feet still in stockings.

  Her question blindsides me, but it shouldn’t. She and I haven’t had a relationship since I didn’t go home when her last husband died in a car accident. I push a glass over to her and take a long pull of the salty, icy beverage. I want to drink it all and make another so that’s what I do. My mom stands there, silent, while I go through the process of making another round of drinks.

  “Mom, I tried. There are things…” My fabrication comes out like it would have two weeks ago, lies that I use to cover up the reason behind my behavior. I let my head dip, my chin resting on my chest and I try to think of the best way to handle this. “Sebastian wouldn’t let me, okay.” Truth springs from my mouth and I’m actually shocked by it.

  “How does a man stop you from coming home?” Her voice is calm, but stern and it makes me anxious.

  “Sebastian made me do a lot of things I’m not proud of.” What is with all the truth that is happening?

  “He didn’t control you. You could’ve come.” Her pursed lips wrinkle and show her disapproval with my reality.

  “How?” I ask honestly. “He had all the money. He wouldn’t let me buy a flight. I had nothing.”

  “You could’ve driven?”

  “Really?” I take a sip of my new drink, now she’s just pissing me off. The alcohol is loosening my lips. “Do you know how long that would’ve taken me?”

  “I hated you for that.”

  I nod. “I know.” The honesty is not refreshing anymore, it’s too much and I’m drowning. I want to die. To lean my nose down just a bit and let the water fill my lungs. Maybe Bash wouldn’t be so bad off without either parent.

  “I will never forgive you.” Her voice pulls me out of my thoughts of death. She’s still standing with her drink.

  “Okay, Mom.” This is exactly what I didn’t want to deal with today. She couldn’t have asked me about this while the waves crashed in the background in South Carolina, when all I really want to do is survive this one last day. Then I could do anything, try to start over.

  “He was everything to me.”

  “I’m aware.” I’m only aware because whoever the man is at the moment was always “everything to her.” The men in her life were put above recitals, auditions, games, meetings and anything else related to me.

  “Then he was gone and my only daughter didn’t even come to the funeral. How did you think I would explain that?”

  “I don’t know Mom. I was trying to survive, okay?”

  She doesn’t even bat an eye at my comment. Then she turns her glass up and drinks her martini in one gulp. She slides it back to me on the counter signaling me to fill it up.

  More vodka and ice go in the shaker. Grateful the conversation is over I allow my lips to turn up at the ends.

  “How did you?”

  “Hmmm?” I ask as I shake.

  “How did you survive?”

  “I’m sorry?” I’m confused at what she’s really asking me.

  “How did you survive Rebecca?” She sounds exasperated. “You aren’t anything like you were and I need to know how you made it here.” She waves her hands around to emphasize her point. “To this,” she gestures at me. “What made you this way? Please help me understand.” She’s pleading now.

  “Mom,” I sigh. “Thank you for bringing Bash and letting us come to South Carolina and invade your space for awhile, but I don’t want to talk about this right now.” I cannot talk about this right now. I’m definitely not talking about my deepest secrets with her. “I’m just now getting to where I can even think about the things I’ve done. I certainly don’t want to talk to you about it.”

  “Did I make you this way?”

  I glare at her. I let out a frustrated grunt. “No.” This is a lie, a partial one, because of course she did. She’s my mother. We, as mothers, don’t want to be held responsible for our children’s failures and that’s what I am to her. A failure.

  She takes the new drink from me and shuffles to the overstuffed chair. Sinking into it she exhales. “Because I just couldn’t imagine staying with a man who broke me time and time again.”

  “I know,” I mumble as I move to the couch that is near where she is sitting.

  Her eyes snap to find mine.

  “You leave, it’s what you do.” She’s looking at me like this is news to her. Like this is the first time she’s ever thought about the fact she’s had five husbands, maybe six.

  “I…” She starts, but then stops.

  “You leave, I stay.”

  The silence crackles between us, the truth of us too much for either of us to stand.

  She drinks more. I make more. The night stretches on like this until she’s passed out due to the weight of our conversation and vodka. I’m not sure which one worked better. I help her upstairs. She stays in the guest room that has never been used. The towels have only been washed due to dust. Then I wait.

  I’m designing arrow ear cuffs while R&B filters through the speakers, I’d left the radio on the channel Adrian had it on last week. The door opens behind me and I don’t even bother to turn and look.

  “Hey,” he says, his voice making me feel warm and full.

  “Hey.” I turn to face him and eye the leather bag strapped across his body.

  “I got you a few things.” He sets the bag on my desk and pulls out a MacBook, a phone and silver bracelet.

  “What in the world Adrian?” I pick up the bracelet and the word “brave” is stamped on it. This is the exact opposite of what I feel every single day. “You’re so wrong,” I whisper fingering the word.

  “Rebecca, I know you’re lost, but you’ll find your way out of this mess and I’m here to help you.” His fingers stay on my arm in a reassuring way.

  I flip the bracelet around in my hand, it’s so delicate.

  “Remember the first time you left?”

  I cock my head to the side and look at him like he’s an idiot.

  “Right,” he nods uncomfortably. “He tracked you by your phone.” He pushes the phone toward me. “He probably knows you’re here now because of your computer.”

  “Oh my God.” I feel stupid.

  “The second time you left you used a credit card, even if it was only your name. He could still track it.”

  “I’m getting cash for my jewelry,” I comment.

  He takes my computer and taps the top of it. “I’m taking yours.” He knows I save everything online and on an external hard drive.

  “I don’t deserve you.” I stand up and hug him.

  “You deserve me and so much more,” he debates. I lean my head back and look into his eyes. His lips capture mine and it’s better than how I thought it would be for the past three years. He is my only friend and his lips make me feel like the heavens opened up and invited me in.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

  Beginnings...Endings

  The buzz of my phone wakes me up and I shake the cobwebs out of my brain.

  Blink.

  My heart seizes when I realize where I am. Panic consumes me and I start to fold in on myself. A huge warm hand lands on my back and I remember Sebastian isn’t here. The callouse
d hand is not those of my late husband. An awareness spreads over me like a cozy blanket, this day is the day I’d been hoping would come for years, I relish in it. A smile creeps over my features and lands unceremoniously on my mouth. I turn over and run my hands over abs I hadn’t seen in six weeks, I counted, hands I’d dreamed about and a dick that I’d missed tremendously.

  “Your hair looks good,” Adrian’s sarcastic voice is full of sleep. He rubs both palms over his face like he’s wiping off the sleep. “Where’s your mother?”

  “She had like seventy martinis last night, she won’t get up until later,” I answer. He’s actually in my bed. “You’re worried she’ll think I bedded the limo driver?” I chuckle.

  “When are you leaving?” He fondles my breasts as I straddle him. I lean over and grab a condom from the nightstand. I slip it over his shaft and he closes his eyes. I’m always careful with him. I’d never have unprotected sex with someone I love when I have a disease given to me by my husband. Adrian knows what I have, he knows everything about me. He loves me anyway.

  “Soon.” I lean into him. His lips, pliable, meet mine and envelope mine in a way that makes me feel safe. I know I’m safe now, but it’s not because of him. It’s because Sebastian is actually dead. A sense of relief fills every pore of my body, lust opens me for him and I sink onto his dick.

  His fingertips trace my tan lines, starting at my neck, across my breasts, around to my back.

  “You’re the most perfect person I know.”

  “You’re so full of shit,” I laugh. The laughter is bold and new and brings me such joy. Adrian’s eyes wrinkle with glee.

  “You’re gorgeous.” He lifts me off him and slams me back down.

  “You don’t have to…” I start.

  He pulls me down to him roughly and covers my lips with his again. We don’t do that. Tell each other things we think the other needs to hear. We are blunt, honest, and extremely utilitarian with our relationship if you can call it that. I treat him in a way that I’m not proud of, but he’s always forgiven me of my flaws, the biggest one was being a coward.

  He helps guide my hips up and down and up and down until I’m not thinking of anything except the crests of the wave of pleasure. My breasts bounce up and down so hard they almost hurt, my moans get louder and louder until I cry out, but he puts his hand on my mouth so I don’t wake up my mother. He’s scared of being caught with me. I smile into his hand. I close my eyes and let go.

  “Adrian,” I moan. “Fuck…”

  It is just now that I know the weight of what I carried on my shoulders for too many years.

  I’m finally free.

  “Oh fuck,” I moan. Adrian’s hand is doing a delicate dance on my clit while he is thrusting into me from behind. I’m bent over my desk and the tools that I use to make my jewelry, along with the cash I just gave him, jostle at each thrust.

  “Rebecca,” his groans match mine. “Don’t come yet,” he grits out.

  Sometimes I can’t help myself with him, he makes me feel all sorts of things. He makes me feel wanted, even though it’s all a lie. I can deal with lies. Everything in my life is a lie, but this one is mine. I feel him grow in me and I know I can let go now. I picture he and I being able to leave this room holding hands, him kissing my cheek, him slapping my ass for everyone to see and I’m able to come.

  Once we’re finished fucking, he hands me my new documents. One for me and one for Bash. I have no shame in what I’m doing. I’m saving my life. Lie?

  “So we good?” He looks at my dwindling inventory. I haven’t made more in weeks.

  “I’m almost where I can. I have money, now the documents.”

  He rubs his thumb over my bottom lip. “I’ll miss you.”

  “No, you won’t,” I laugh. I don’t want to admit that I love him, if I’m even capable of it. It’s the game we play, the one that pretends that we don’t love each other, even though we’ve told each other as much. It’s easier to fall back to this, this relationship that revolves around the physical need I have for him and I can convince myself I can leave him.

  “I don’t have any other white piece, your skin is creamy and different. You’re a fun distraction.” We’ve already discussed the fact that we can’t be together and I can’t tell him to be single while I’m married.

  “Glad to be of assistance.” I’m pulling on my jeans and putting my wig back on.

  “I like you as a brunette better,” he comments as he buttons his pants. Then he grabs the cash I left him.

  “Me too,” I agree as he walks out the door without a second glance.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

  I Carry Around my Mistakes

  I’m making breakfast for my mother and Bash, I’ve turned music on and it pulses through the speakers. It’s slow, my hips rock to the rhythm and fills me with hope. My mother is still sleeping off her hangover and Bash sits at the bar watching me as I crack eggs.

  “Mom?” Bash asks. I turn to face him. “What’re you doing?”

  “Making pancakes and eggs,” I answer and turn back around to flip the eggs.

  “I don’t like eggs.”

  The spatula freezes in my hand. “Since when?”

  “I’ve never liked eggs, I just ate them because Dad was here.”

  I stop what I’m doing and I turn again to face him, my face contorts in an understanding that my choices have put my son in a place where he does things he doesn’t want to because I stayed with his father. I did things I didn’t want to because I stayed with his father to keep him safe. Bash has learned how people should be treated because I allowed myself to be treated a certain way.

  “Well, fuck that,” I say. His eyes grow wide with shock, then delight. “I’ll be damned if we do that again.” I throw the entire frying pan full of eggs in the trash ceremoniously. I slide my palms against each other ridding myself of it. His features grow soft with a smile that I’m not used to seeing aimed at me.

  “Really?” he asks.

  “Damn right.”

  “Who was that leaving this morning?”

  I ponder this question for a minute. “He helped me get all of the stuff we needed to leave.”

  He nods. “What’s his name?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” I wave his question away, hoping that he doesn’t press me, I’m already on the edge of a meltdown because I’m leaving him, this time for good.

  “Why not?”

  “We’ll never see him again.” The truth of this statement threatens to break me, but I’m granite now. I’m steel.

  “Oh pancakes.” My mom enters the kitchen, “it smells delicious.” Clapping her hands together and rubbing them, she walks over to the bar and pulls out the bar stool sitting gingerly. “Roger called and everything is ready for us when we get back.”

  “Great,” I murmur as I flip pancakes. Roger is another boyfriend I get to meet. I wonder if I’ll ever have another boyfriend. I shift back and forth from one foot to the other feeling the soreness of aggressive sex mixed with the stress from the last month. An ache opens in my chest for Adrian, I sew it up quickly.

  “Rebecca, you’ve aged about two years in the last month. We need to start a cleanse for you and get a facial regime started.”

  “Mother, I really think the only thing I will be doing is looking out at waves with Bash for a month. Maybe then I can try to live.”

  “You should be celebrating, shouting from the hilltops,” she starts.

  “Mother!” I yell and glare at her then turn my eyes to my son.

  “It’s really okay Mom,” Bash says as I put the plate of pancakes in front of him.

  “No, that was your father.”

  “It’s fine, I’m glad he’s dead too.”

  The walls disintegrate in around me and I cling to the counter in an effort to remain standing.

  “See Rebecca, Bash doesn’t even care.”

  Every child should care their parent is dead. What have I done? Is this my fault too?

 
Adrian and I are playing gin when he picks up the card I just passed over.

  “Do you have brothers or sisters?” I ask.

  “A brother and two sisters,” he answers without looking at me. “You?”

  “No,” I answer quickly. “I don’t really know. I guess none that I know of.” I shrug.

  His eyes lift to find mine. “How’s Bash? He still playing second?”

  “Yes he’s on the travelling baseball team now, it’s hard now that he’s eleven. He plays for two different teams year round. It’s obnoxious.”

  “Your entire life is obnoxious.”

  “You liked the Range Rover,” I respond, picking up a king of hearts.

  “Only because you were in it with your clothes off.” He laughs throwing down a run of hearts.

  “Do your siblings live near here?” I change the subject.

  “One sister lives in Hawaii, the other in DC. My brother is a doctor here.”

  “A doctor?” I take my queen and king of hearts and lay it on his run.

  “Yep, he’s really made something of himself. He’s an oncologist. He’s a fucking big deal. Won awards and shit.”

  “Wow, that’s amazing.” Questions pepper my mind, but I don’t ask. We don’t ask questions.“I don’t think I could be around people that were dying all the time.”

  “You are around people that are dying all the time,” he comments.

  “I mean…”

  “He can help people. We’re similar, he and I. I help people, but just in a different way.” His white teeth show in a grin.

  I laugh at him. “Oh yeah, you’re just like him.”

  “How do you think he paid for school?” he answers my unasked question with a wink.

  “I didn’t say anything,” I pout.

  “Listen, I know. How did one brother become a huge success and the other a criminal?”