Lizbet's Lie

by Brenda Maxfield

  My eyes darted to make sure the bedroom door was closed. I wondered if Susanna was on the other side with her ear pressed up against the wood. I held my finger to my lips.

  Farah looked around to the door. "It's closed. We're safe."

  "Nothing's safe from Susanna," I whispered.

  "We'll keep whispering then."

  I got up and went to sit on my bed. Farah joined me. "Has it been bad?"

  I shrugged. "It's different. I expected to come home and pick up where I left off."

  "Didn't work, huh?"

  "Momma's changed. She watches me all day with this huge frown on her face. She disapproves of me."

  "Why would she disapprove? It doesn't make sense."

  "Maybe not. But she does."

  Farah's forehead crinkled. "Don't tell me she blames you for what happened." Her voice was hard.

  "Shh." I glanced again at the door. "Maybe she does."

  Farah jumped off the bed. Her green eyes snapped with fire, and her cheeks were flushed. "No way! How can she?"

  "Sit back down. Everyone will hear you."

  But she was on a roll. "I still can't believe your parents didn't turn that creep in. And now they're blaming you? What's wrong with them?"

  "Sit down," I told her again. "It's okay. I'm doing okay."

  She sank to the bed and searched my face. "You don't look okay."

  "Thanks a lot."

  "I'm serious." She picked up the striped afghan resting across the end of my bed. "Did you knit this?"

  "No, my grandma did before she died."

  She laid it back down and smoothed the edges with her fingers. "My brother told me I could live with him in Chicago."

  "What'd your dad say?"

  "He said, and I quote, 'Forget it.'"

  I tipped my head to the side. "I'm not surprised."

  "I was. Dad is dating again. Dating. The last thing he needs around his apartment is his shameful, almost-seventeen-year-old daughter."

  "He's trying to make it up to you. You know, for shoving you away at the Home."

  Farah half-closed her eyes. "You know, the Home wasn't so bad."

  "You're right. It wasn't."

  There was a loud rap on my door. "Susanna, if that's you, we're busy," I yelled.

  The door opened, and sure enough, it was Susanna. "Well, excuse me, your highness. I wouldn't dare disturb you, except Johnny's here." Her tone bristled. She sneered, backed out, and slammed the door.

  "Johnny?" Farah asked. "Isn’t he the guy you wrote me about?"

  "He's the one."

  Farah slid off the bed and started for the door. "You're going to introduce me to him, right?"

  I didn't move.

  "Lizbet, come on. I'm dying to meet him."

  "But he knows." Farah stopped moving and turned to me. I looked down at my hands. "Like I wrote you, he knows I was pregnant."

  Farah sighed, took a step closer, and grabbed my shoulder. "But he's here, isn't he? Come on, let's go down."

  My body seemed full of cement as I got off the bed and followed Farah downstairs. She bounded down the steps in front of me, which figured. She loved nothing more than meeting guys and using her powers.

  Johnny stood inside the door, looking like someone had stomped on his foot with cleats. Anguish radiated from him.

  Susanna fluttered around, asking if he wanted to sit, or if he wanted some nice cold water, or perhaps he wanted a fresh-baked cookie. A wave of embarrassment for her rolled through me. Johnny barely responded, giving her a slight shake of his head. As I hit the bottom step, his eyes sought mine. I glanced away.

  Farah stopped halfway to the door and took a small step back. I watched her study his face, then she pivoted to me with her back to Johnny. Her eyebrows raised with a look of pleasant surprise. She urged me toward him with a toss of her head.

  I moved to Johnny as if in slow motion, keeping my gaze at his feet. I couldn't bear to see what might be in his eyes. Susanna stood next to him, and I doubted a sledgehammer could've budged her.

  "Hey, Lizbet," he said. His voice was soft and trembled slightly. I peered at him and saw a nervous twitch at the corner of his mouth. He glanced at Farah, then back at me. "Didn't know you had company."

  I nodded. The confusion in his eyes pulled at me, and I couldn't blink. "This is Farah." I motioned to her with my hand.

  I think Farah said hello, although I wasn’t sure. None of my senses seemed to be working. My heart wasn't working right, either. Of course it had to be beating, but it somehow felt suspended over a cliff.

  "I was going to ask if you could go for a walk."

  Farah cleared her throat with a small cough. "Lizbet, go on. Ned will keep me company."

  Susanna's head jerked to Farah. "Ned's busy."

  At that moment, Ned walked into the kitchen from the side door. "Who says I'm busy?" he asked.

  Susanna rushed across the room. "You and Dad have more cars to work on. I saw the line-up this afternoon."

  Ned rubbed his hands on the sides of his jeans. "Done for now, Little Susie."

  She stomped her foot. "I'm not little, so quit saying I am." She shoved by him and ran out the same door he'd just entered.

  Farah smiled at Ned. "Can you keep me company while Lizbet walks with Johnny?"

  Ned shuffled his foot on the kitchen linoleum, and a faint red crept into his cheeks. "Reckon I can."

  Farah laughed, a sprinkle of joy in her voice. "Then I reckon I'll let you."

  Johnny hadn't moved. Neither had I.

  "You want to grab a jacket?" he asked me.

  "Is it cold?"

  "Not so much."

  "Then I'm good," I said. "Ned, will you tell Momma I'm out with Johnny for a while?"

  "Ned reckons he can tell her," Farah said and laughed again.

  Johnny pushed the screen door open, and we walked outside. There was a nip in the air, but Johnny was right. It wasn't cold.

  He followed me out to the street.

  "Which way do you want to go?" I asked.

  He motioned his head to the right, so we started off. His nervousness was like a third person walking with us. I didn't know what to think. Part of me pulsated with relief that he'd come over and wanted to be with me. The other part bristled. In the past I rarely, if ever, got angry. Lately, anger was my best friend.

  I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He faced straight ahead as if he walked alone.

  All those months at the Home, Farah had told me over and over that the pregnancy was not my fault. She'd been incensed when I'd told her Momma and Dad hadn't prosecuted the guy. I'd just stared at her. Forgiveness was our way, and I couldn't figure out why she'd been so mad. Especially since it wasn't even her. It was me.

  But now her anger had grown wheels and crashed into my heart. I liked Johnny. More than liked him. But his reaction toward me should have been sympathy and compassion, not whatever this was.

  "How are you?" he finally asked.

  "Fine."

  He stopped walking and turned to me. "You're fine?"

  I heard the judgment in his voice, and my stomach clenched. "Yes, I'm fine. How else could I be?" My voice twisted into snarky sarcasm, and I clapped my hand over my mouth. Being snotty was not my way.

  He frowned, and the creases in his forehead went deep.

  "Sorry," I said.

  "But how can you be fine? I don't get it." I could hear his words scrape on their way out. He was almost flinching, and his muscles were pinched tight.

  "I don't have much choice, do I? Besides, it's over now." I echoed Ned's and Farah's words. Over. Over. Over.

  "I've been thinking." Johnny swallowed and grimaced like it hurt. He looked out across the freshly planted field on the other side of the street. "We're taught to confess our sins. Well, maybe not sins in this case, but um, I don't know. I was thinking it might be good if you spoke with the bishop."

  His words caught me by surprise, even though they shouldn't have. I felt like I was tumbl
ing headfirst into a black hole, as if the asphalt beneath me had dropped away. I squeezed my eyes closed, lowered my head, and worked to remain standing. Johnny grabbed my arm.

  "Lizbet, what's wrong? Are you fainting?"

  His voice seemed distant, coming at me through a tunnel.

  He moved to my side and put his arm around me. "Lizbet, what's wrong?" There was panic in his voice, and I fought to clear my head.

  Focus. Focus. Look at something and breathe. Count your breaths. I opened my eyes and stared at a pebble on the street. Focus. Breathe. Slow down. Breathe.

  My head cleared. I wiggled out of Johnny's grasp and stood, teetering a little.

  Then it hit me. I'd used Lamaze to calm myself. The same breathing I'd used during labor. The irony struck me with such force that I laughed. It started small and grew until I stood there on the side of the road, chortling like a pathetic child.

  Johnny's expression went from worried to shocked, then back to worried. "Lizbet, what's so funny? Why are you laughing?" His voice was sharp.

  But I couldn't stop. The hilarity rolled out of me in waves, and I clutched his arm to stay upright. Tears flowed down my face, but still I laughed.

  Johnny shook me. "Lizbet! Stop. Stop it."

  I sucked in a huge gulp of breath and then stopped. I let go of him, stood straight, and felt a lightness I hadn't felt in months, like someone had wiped a dirty chalkboard inside me clean.

  "I'm sorry," I said, my voice raspy. "I'm okay now. Better."

  The doubt on Johnny's face made him look old. Like an ancient, shriveled man. I almost laughed all over again, but instead I bit my lip and nudged his arm. "Don't worry. I'm fine."

  We started walking again. He moved slowly, and I shortened my steps to match his.

  "I guess you won't tell Bishop then."

  "I don't know why I should."

  "Because he could pray with you. He could help you."

  "I don't need help."

  But Johnny was right. I did need help, just not from the bishop. The bishop would never in a hundred years understand me or my doubts. I gazed at the tulip bulbs coming up in Mrs. Montgomery's flowerbed as we passed her house. The kind of help I needed was going to have to come from myself.

  Somehow I knew my laughter back there had been a start.

  "I appreciate your concern. Truly, I do. But right now I'm not too keen on anyone in our church."

  Johnny stopped short. "But everyone you know is from our church."

  I thought of Farah and Edie and the other girls from the Home. "Not everyone."

  "But what are you saying? You don't want to be part of us anymore? What about Winter? Your family?"

  I sighed. "I don't know what I'm saying."

  I wasn't sure of anything anymore. And I was sick of thinking about God and church. Everything always turned into a boiling mass of confusion.

  "What about me?" Johnny's gaze shifted away from me.

  "What do you mean?"

  Johnny dropped his head and seemed to study his foot as he moved it back and forth in the loose gravel at the side of the road. When he looked back up, his eyes were moist.

  "I'm not asking anything. Forget it." He turned around. "Come on. I'll walk you home."

  He strode off, and this time I scurried to keep up.

  It didn't take long before we arrived at my porch. "I'll see you later, Lizbet." His voice was curt, and he was in such a rush to get away, he practically ran.

  "Thanks for the walk, Johnny."

  He nodded but kept going.

  "Johnny?" I called after him. He stopped and turned.

  "Don't be mad."

  He shrugged and his eyes, full of pain, held mine for a brief moment. I'd hurt him, but I wasn't sure how. He moved away and continued down the street.

  When I turned to go into the house, Susanna was coming out and nearly knocked me over.

  "What did you do to him?" she asked, shoving on my shoulder.

  I shook her hand off. "I didn't do anything to him, and get your hands off me." In my family, we didn't fight. We kept our mouths shut with our personal opinions locked up tight. Susanna was way out of line. I stared at her flushed face and darting eyes and wondered at the change in her while I'd been gone.

  "Susie, if you want Johnny so bad, you can have him. It's not like any of us are free to date anyway." Even Ned, who was nearly eighteen, didn't date. I peered past Susanna through the door, looking for Farah. I didn't see her or Ned.

  "They're around back," Susanna said. "How do you know Farah anyway? And what's your secret?"

  I arranged my face to register surprise. "Secret? I don't have any secrets. None of us do."

  Her eyes narrowed into slits. "I've heard you."

  "Eavesdroppers never get all the facts. You ought to know that."

  "You talked in your sleep. I heard you from my bedroom."

  My heart went cold. Alarm bells dinged inside me. "I don't talk in my sleep."

  "You did at least once. I heard you. Who's Edie? Who's Pete?"

  Bells clanged in my ears. "I don't know. Must've been a dream." I backed up and reached out my hand to steady myself on the porch column.

  Susanna stepped forward, her face almost up against mine. "I'll find out, you know. I'll find out."

  "Find out what? You're making all this up. If I was talking in my sleep, everyone would've heard."

  "Maybe they did, but I was the only one who got up."

  "You came in? Into my bedroom?"

  I was losing ground.

  "Didn't do me much good. You shut up when I opened the door. But you were asleep all right, and you said some mighty interesting things."

  I pushed by her. "Stay out of my room and mind your own business." My voice wasn't nearly as biting as I'd hoped. It sounded more worried.

  Which I was.

  Susanna couldn't find out I'd been pregnant. Momma was right. It would hurt and confuse her, and no matter how much of a brat she was, it wouldn't be fair.

  I walked into the house, through the kitchen, and back out the side door. I continued to the back yard and saw Farah and Ned sitting on the rusted swing set. Their heads were close together, and Ned was laughing. Farah's hair caught the sunlight and gleamed with fire. I reached up to touch my blond hair and knew it was old dishwater in comparison.

  But then, what difference did it make?

  Ned saw me and waved. "Hey, Lizbet, come join us."

  I walked over and leaned against the pole of the swing set.

  Farah craned her head, peering beyond me. "Where's that guy? Johnny? Where'd he go?"

  I shrugged. "Home, I guess."

  "Why didn't he stay?" She raised her hand to shade her eyes from the sun and squinted at me.

  "Didn't want to." I looked out over the tilled garden. "You hungry, Farah?"

  "A little." She grabbed Ned's hand – I saw his jerk of surprise at her touch – and pulled him up. "How about all of us go into town and get some French fries or something?"

  "I barely get you here and now you want to go?" Ned scolded, but his grin was wide and excited, and Ned wasn't one to get excited.

  "You think Momma will let us go?" I unraveled my braids, my fingers flicking between the strands.

  Farah tugged the ends of my kinky hair. "It's grown back out. You want me to cut it?"

  I glanced back at the house. "No, it's fine."

  "But it looked cute shorter. Are you sure?"

  "I'm sure."

  Ned picked a piece of grass from Farah's shoulder. She caught his hand and squeezed it.

  "If you truly want to go into town, I can check with Dad to make sure he doesn't need me."

  I knew that wasn't why he wanted to check with Dad. He wanted to avoid checking with Momma.

  I shook my loosened hair and bent to pluck a tiny violet from a tuft of grass at the base of the swing set. I twirled it in my fingers till the delicate stem disintegrated and the flower dropped to the ground.

  "What are we waiting for?
" Farah asked. "Come on, Lizbet, let's get ready."

  I surveyed my shirt and jeans and thought I was ready. I trotted to catch up with Farah, who was already halfway through the door. Upstairs in my room, she opened her bag and pulled out a black top with shiny beads sewn into an intricate pattern around the neck.

  "This is new, and I think you should wear it." She offered the top to me with a gleam in her eyes. "It'll look good with your blond hair, bring out some shimmer."

  "I think my outfit is fine. You go ahead and wear it."

  "Put it on. You'll thank me." She tossed it next to me on the bed and dug further in her bag until she found a purple T-shirt. "I'll go with this. Let's face it. Purple with red hair is a winner."

  She laughed. Her words taken by themselves always sounded conceited, but when she laughed and batted her lashes, I always ended up giggling and coming to the conclusion that she was clever and funny.

  I peeled off my shirt and wiggled into the black top. Farah squinted at me and whistled. "I was right as usual. Go look at yourself."

  I did, and she was right. I appeared ten times more sophisticated and a hundred times more modern.

  "Why did Johnny go home?"

  "I don't care."

  She snorted. "I didn't ask if you cared. I asked why."

  I turned from the mirror. "Because he can't stand to be with a girl who's dirty."

  Farah went stiff, and her green eyes bored into me. "He said you were dirty?" Her hands curled into fists.

  "He didn't say it, but that's what he meant."

  "What a complete creep. I hope you let him have it."

  I shook my head and my hair brushed against my arms. I wondered why I'd unbraided it earlier. I raised my hands and divided it back into three strands. Farah put her hands over mine.

  "Stop. It looks good down. Leave it." She lowered my hands to my sides and then grinned. "Come on. We're ready. Let's go find Ned."

  I followed her downstairs. Ned waited for us at the front door. Momma stood to the side, and angry disapproval rolled off her, though her face was arranged with perfect composure.

  "Don't be late," she said to Ned.

  "No worries. We'll only be an hour or so."

  I couldn't bear to keep seeing the accusation in her eyes, which was aimed directly at me, so I took the lead through the door. We crammed into the cab. Farah nearly pushed me aside so she could climb in next to Ned. Momma, who was probably spying through the window, would be gasping at the seating arrangement.