Lying

My grandfather lied to my grandmother.  I guess it runs in the family.  I curled further into the arm chair feeling defeated.  Is this it?  Is this my life?  My future?  It felt very hypocritical to judge them.  I was here because I was grounded for lying to Mom.  Which brings me to the fact that it was very hypocritical of her to punish me for lying when she lied to her boss to get the day off.  It was a vicious circle, one that I wanted to get out of.  But it's just too easy.  It's something I do without thinking.  From a young age I learned how to walk, I was potty trained, and I learned how to lie to get what I wanted.  However, sitting here watching at my grandparents fight, and knowing that was probably the best case scenario for my future if I didn't make some changes in my life soon, I decided that I was going to find another way.

On the way home we had to stop by my dad's office.  He was running late, as usual, and Mom needed- I'm not sure what she needed, probably just to check up on him.  His excuses were getting flimsier to the point it seemed better just not to ask anymore.  She dropped me a Dudley off at the front door so we could run ahead while she found a parking spot.  Dudley is my younger brother.  That's not his real name.  I use to tease him that he was a dud, which turned into Dudley.  I actually use it kind of affectionately now.  No, I'm not lying.  He and I get along pretty well.  We try to entertain each other when Mom and Dad are fighting to keep our minds off of what's going on in the other room.

We're both kind of quiet when we go through the lobby and ride the elevators up to Dad's floor.  Mom popping in on Dad does not sound like a good idea and I think we are both preparing ourselves for an inevitable fight.  I wish I had my license and was able to drive Dudley and myself far far away from this.  As the elevator dings and the doors open Dudley elbows me and I see a glint in his eye.  He's declared himself a ladies man at the ripe old age of fourteen.  The way his eyes are set on a group of women gossiping around the office copier makes me laugh, and then groan.  "Go get 'em, Tiger."  Why not?  He's harmless and he will no doubt brighten their day.  Even though he's my brother I can admit he's funny.

I head on to Dad's office.  Maybe if I can give him a heads up then we can avoid a fight, or at least minimize it.  As I get to his office door I see him with a woman who is very much NOT my mom.  She's beautiful and way to close to my dad.  She's giggling and he's holding one of her hands in both of his.  He then plays with a tennis bracelet and tells her it looks beautiful on her.  I feel sick.  I'm too stunned to move or think.  I don't want to see this, but I can't move.  I can't speak.  I don't know whether to scream or cry.  I do, however, need to remind myself to breathe.

The sound of my brother's laughter breaks me out of it.  "Dad, stop!"  I don't know if I yelled it or whispered it, but he and his...whoever she is...jump as if I'd screamed it.  They are both startled and start mumbling excuses.  I didn't hear them, I was just glad they had separated before Dudley saw them so close.

I sensed my mother's presence more than anything else.  She rushed past me into the office.  I hadn't moved from the spot where I froze by the door.  She went straight to the woman and lifted the wrist with the bracelet on it.  Mom didn't say a word.  She looked at my dad and her expression said everything.  The woman stammered out an excuse about finding in the back of her car.  Even I knew that was bologna.

Mom then looked at me.  "What were they doing when you came in here?  You caught them doing something, didn't you?"

Okay, I know I decided not to lie anymore not more than two hours ago, but I was pretty sure admitting what I saw was going to have life changing ramifications.  I didn't want to be responsible for that.  As much as I like to make the case to my parents that I'm not a kid anymore, in this instance I want to play the "I'm just a kid" card.  Rather than lie I grab Dudley by the arm.  "Let's give them a minute," I say as I lead him away.  Okay, so not admitting anything is technically a lie of omission, but come on!  Too heavy to fast.  My venture into the world of truth needs shouldn't contain such a steep slope.

Fortunately I was never pressed for an answer as to what I witnessed in my dad's office.  Unfortunately, the result was the same.  My parents were getting a divorce.  Over the next weeks and months I looked at things with new eyes.  Every time I noticed a lie I played the what if game.  What if they told the truth?  I'm pretty sure my grandparents would be happier and argue less.  I'm not sure about my parents. I figure either they would have avoided their problems becoming so bad or their marriage would have ended sooner.  I started wondering about my friends. Sure, if they told the truth they would get into trouble, but if they made a commitment to truth they wouldn't do the things that got them in trouble.  So that got me to thinking.  What used to be a game of getting away with things has changed for me.  Not wanting to end up like my parents and grandparents meant not trying to get away with things.  That meant not doing a lot of things I used to do.  Which  made me a whole lot less fun to be with according to my friends.

They were all the same, I decided.  My friends, my parents, my grandparents.  Yes, they were at different stages of their lives, but the attitude was the same.  That the world owed them something and that they needed to lie and cheat in order to get it.  They were bitter and unhappy and didn't trust anyone.  Not even each other.  That's not the kind of life I want.  It made me think of the moldy orange that I pulled out of the refrigerator for a snack last night.  I was looking forward to a refreshing, juicy, healthy, sweet snack.  That's what I wanted out of life.  I want it to be refreshing, something to look forward to.  Juicy, eventful, intriguing.  Healthy, physical health, sure, but also a life that's going in the right direction.  A life that leads somewhere that I want to go.  And sweet.  Something that I will look back on and smile.  But instead I got a moldy piece of fruit.  It was shriveled and discolored and soft and gross.  Why?  Because it was placed next to some rotten fruit that should have been tossed out long ago.  The moral of the story?  As much as I wanted one kind of life, if I got too close to those living another kind of life, a moldy life, then I was going to end up just like them.

My gaze fell on an old Danielle Steele novel.  My aunt had loaned that to my mom a few years ago.  My mom rolled her eyes but took it.  She isn't one to read but she didn't want to hear her sister going on about how great it was so she took it just to shut her up.  Seeing the book made me long for my aunt.  We only saw her on holidays but I suddenly wanted to see her.  She was the closest example I could think of who lived the kind of life I wanted to live.  Yes, I decided, I would call her and hope she would be willing to spend some time with me.  She somehow escaped the lying gene.  She would know and understand where I am coming from.  She could help me find my way out.