I was brought up never to lie. I was always to be honest, tell the truth, shame the Devil! Problem is, when you have as many secret lives as I do you sometimes have to. That’s the sacrifice, you see. I don’t lie for me, I lie so that people don’t have to worry about me. I lie to my Mother so she doesn’t think she has failed me. I lie to my Father so he doesnt have to feel he should save me. I lie to my friends because I don’t want them to pity me. I lie to people like you, because if I didn’t- you would usually try and shame me. Casual questions? Small talk? Not for me i’m afraid. My back story has a back story.
Problem is, sometimes lies sneak up and catch you, when you least expect it. When I met my boyfriend I fell head over heels in love. Heart palpitations, butterflies, tongue tied- the real deal. Long conversations where you cant go to sleep because missing a moment together hurts too much. Every moment of every day was a wasted moment, unless it was with him. I had never felt like that before. Funny thing was, so did he. Perfect, right? Except I never really found the right time to tell him that the translation job actually involved more negotitation and nakedness than he might have thought, and I just couldn’t, wouldn’t risk watching that light in his eyes that was only for me die. I didnt want to make myself cheap for him. So I lied. I’m a good liar. I can look you right in the eyes and lie- and so I did. I made the deal with the Devil, let me have this and let me have him and I will give up in six months, I swear it. SIx months became a year and one year became too but the Devil was good to me, he gave me my time.
Devils always take their due. He was becoming more and more suspicious, except he thought I was having an affair. I was, with cash. Seems ridiculous to torture another person for money, but I did it. Lies became bigger lies and gave birth to their own baby lies and so we went on..tiffs became arguments, arguments became rows..rows became…hell. Perversely, I took more risks. Longer jobs…weekends away. Weekends when I should have been at home with someone who really loved me became precious work time I was losing – I had a God to worship you see.
We had had a huge row that morning. Every awful thing you could say, we said. He told me he hated me, I told him to drop dead. Jumped in the car and didnt look back, ignored the phone calls, the voicemails, the text messages. Ignored the pain, it was easier to feel anger than to admit my role in someones pain. To admit my responsibility for their pain. The truth was, I couldnt tell the truth anymore. I couldnt end the lie- so I told myself lies. One of the lies you tell yourself is it is never Your Fault.
My phone rang while I was with the client. I threw it back in my bag and slipped back onto my knees. It rang again, I switched it off. As I left the clients hotel room, it rang a final time. But I was too busy – living a lie.
It seemed strange, the house. I arrived home in the early hours and every light was burning, but the door was double locked. I got in the back, in the end. I remember being angry, I remember being furious at the sheer stupidity and sheer audacity of him- locking me out of my home! Yes, our happy home. And then I remember being scared. Silence can be very frightening. I remember screaming, screaming and scrabbling trying to find a phone. The one I so carelessly laughed at and ignored. Trying to get help, for someone I knew was beyond help. He was there you see, but he was so so cold. And even as I heard the sirens, I knew this was one lie that wouldn’t ever end. He was dead. So I got ready to tell his family some more.