Page 2 of The Lies We Tell Ourselves

“JJ, stop!” She squealed, a bright smile lighting up her face that made my heart pinch. “Put me down. Put. Me. Down.”

“No. I don’t want the monster to eat me.” I grinned as she huffed above me, putting her hands on her hips.

“Put me down! I’m hungry and Mama will get angry if I don’t go down for breakfast.” Well played, kid. Well played.

“Then beat it.” I chuckled as I set her down on the floor, and she scampered off, slamming my door shut on her way out.

Heaving out a heavy breath, I kicked my feet out of my bed and sat up with a groan. I rolled my neck and stretched my arms up as I yawned. “Get it together, JJ,” I grumbled to myself as I took in my small room. Well, what had become my room two months ago. Previously, it was Aunt Clara’s writing room, but now the tiny space had become my domain, even though I’d hardly unpacked a single box and still lived out of my suitcase. Trying to resituate myself into a family I’d never known existed until five years ago was hard, and I’d only really gotten to know them over the last two years when… well, when everything irrevocably changed in my life for the second time.

“Enough.” I ground my teeth, grabbed the clothes I laid out last night off the stool by my desk, and wandered down to the bathroom. The exposed wood floor was glacial on the soles of my feet, and the marble tiles in the bathroom were not much better, even though it was meant to be heated. I could only hope that once the shower was running, everything would start to warm up and I’d no longer resemble a vibrating popsicle as shivers racked through my body.

After that first gratifying pee of the morning, I put my clothes beside the towels on the heated towel rail and turned the shower on before finding myself staring at my reflection in the mirror. It was hard on a good day to look at myself, but today, it felt like someone was twisting a dagger in my heart. Everyone always said how much I looked like my mom. That would usually draw a little smile from me, but not today. Today, it made my chest feel tight, and my eyes burned. I had her eyes and her riot of bouncing blond curls, something which I’d come to learn ran in her family. My aunt and cousins had them too, although theirs were a dark black-brown, and mine were almost white blond.

“You can’t change the past, baby. I want you to promise me you will look forward, embracing your future and all you can be. I’ll be with you every step of the way.” She placed her frail hand over my heart, the movement slow and jerky. I could feel the tremors through her touch like the ripples on a still lake. “I’ll always be here with you, cheering you on.”

A sob ripped its way out of my chest as the first tears burned down my cheeks. It should have been us—together—taking me to Briar U today. Instead, it’s my Aunt Clara.

Swiping the tears off my face, I dumped my dirty clothes in the basket and jumped in the shower, allowing myself a few precious moments to wallow in my grief before I washed it all away and locked it up tight. I focused on taking deep calming breaths, Aunt Clara’s voice echoing in my head as I did. “Out with the negative, in with the positive.” It repeated as I watched the water and my pain spiral down the drain, leaving me feeling all kinds of numb.

Today was a new day, a new beginning, and hopefully the first step in the direction I wanted to take my life. Only time would tell, I guess. The world was my oyster—or so they said—but it’s never as easy as all those self-help books would make you believe. It feels almost insurmountable to look forward when so much pulled me back to my past. It had sunk its claws into me and refused to let go. It weighed on me every second of every day. Fear. A fear that made me jump at shadows and a shiver work its way down my spine every time I heard a creepy noise. I shut my brain off and locked it down as I turned the shower off.

I grabbed my towel off the rail, dried myself off, and moisturized before slipping my clothes on. I’d gone for ripped skinny black jeans, worn through by wear and tear rather than design, and a tight-fitting pale-blue cropped top. I added a short-sleeved black button down over the top that had tiny blue applique flowers on it which I buttoned up to the bottom of the top underneath. It was one of my favorite outfits, one that teased the world at who I really was. But the truth was I didn’t know who I was or wanted to be. My head was filled with big dreams and ideas, but I was too scared to embrace them.

I felt it was probably best to try and blend in today—every day—until I found my people or more importantly, myself. I wanted to feel safe and accepted. Apprehension sat in my gut and coiled through my body. I didn’t know if I would ever reach that point, but I owed it to Mom to try. Nothing could deter me from brightening my face up with a bit of concealer under my eyes to hide the dark circles that aged me, or from adding a touch of highlighter and blush on my cheek bones. I would conform, but still be me. Just a little less today. Soon, I would be free to be myself and embrace every part of my soul. If only I could find a way to make that happen.

I dried my hair off with the smaller towel, then grabbed my mousse and flicked my head upside down so I could work the product through it, scrunching it in my hands before giving it a quick blow over with the dryer. I cast one last look at myself in the fogged up mirror and gave myself a wan smile and a nod. “You’ve got this, baby.” Mom’s voice echoed in my head, and warmth suffused through my veins as pride radiated from her words. “Go get them and make me proud by showing the world just how wonderful you are.”

For the first time in years, I looked at myself without drowning in revulsion. My curls were tightly coiled and hanging just below my jaw, glistening like they were crafted in the light that streamed through the fogged-up window. My pale blue eyes were ringed in a gray so dark it looked black, and brought a pang of grief to my heart but also a feeling of home. I looked so much like her. Even though it cut so deeply to see the features that reminded me so much of her and everything I’d lost, today they buoyed me and gave me comfort. She may not be with me, but as long as I drew breath, she would live on through me.

Clearing my throat, I pulled a wavering smile to my lips. “I love you, Mom. Always have. Always will.” I brought my fingers to my lips and blew a kiss at my reflection. I could see her beautiful face, white-blonde curls blowing in the wind as she smiled back, pools of bottomless love glittering in her eyes.

Back in my room, I pulled on my boho-style black high tops and shucked on my gray zip-up hoodie before grabbing the first of my boxes and loading them into the car. It took me about thirty minutes to get everything moved and packed up from my room. I swear Aunt Clara was tormenting me with the delicious scents that wafted out of the kitchen every time I passed. My stomach was a rumbling mess, but I couldn’t tell if I wanted to eat something or if I was gonna throw up before I could take a bite.

The sound of happy voices filtered through the house as I shut the front door and took a seat at the breakfast bar in between my cousins Zack and Jessie, who were already stuffing their faces with pancakes, eggs, and bacon all drowned in maple syrup. It smelled like heaven but was a heart attack waiting to happen. They—we—were young and today was a celebration of sorts, so I supposed it was alright.

“Is there any left for me?” Aunt Clara chuckled as she pushed a plate across the counter to me. It looked and smelt amazing, but my stomach chose that moment to revolt as it tried to make its way up my throat as nerves simmered in my gut.

“Drink this, JJ.” Aunt Clara’s warm honey-brown eyes regarded me with understanding. “It’s a big day, but you’ve got nothing to worry about, kid, you’ll see.” I huffed out a breath and downed the drink she’d given me. I felt every one of those little bubbles pop as I swallowed them down with a grimace. “It’ll help settle your nerves and your stomach.” I looked at her in disbelief as I grabbed the orange juice and a fresh glass, filling it to the top. I gulped it down as fast I possibly could to get rid of the aftertaste of whatever that mixture was.

“If you say so.” I grunted, stuffing my face with a forkful of pancake and bacon to stop myself from telling her just how vile it was.

“My own special recipe,” she said with a twinkle in her eye and squeezed my shoulder as she headed out the front door to check I’d done a proper job of loading up the car.

“So, mom said we’ll be moving once you’ve left for college,” Zack murmured around a mouthful of food. Nothin’ like watching the kid’s mouth be a garbage disposal to put me off my food.

“And how d’you feel about that?”

“I don’t understand why we have to keep moving.” He sighed and looked out the window, shoulders slumped. “We’ve moved more in the last two years than we ever have and I don’t get it. I’ve only just started to make friends and feel good about school, y’know…” His words trailed off, and a lump of emotion clogged my throat, and my chest tightened. Guilt threatened to drown me, and I wished the ground would swallow me up.

I’ve brought so much change into their lives. It can’t have been easy with all these adjustments they’ve had to make for me—because of me—and if that doesn’t make me feel like the worst cousin in the world, I don’t know what else could. I never asked them to uproot their lives when I met them two years ago, but Aunt Clara is something kinda special. She took Mom and me in with open arms, never hesitating to do what needed to be done. Before then, I’d never really understood the importance of family, because it had been me and Mom against the world. But now, I know family is everything.

“I know it’s not been easy, Zack, it wasn’t for me either.” His dark brown eyes pinged up to mine as if he hung on my every word. “Life isn’t always easy, buddy.” I cuffed him on the shoulder and made his lips twitch. “But sometimes, we’ve just gotta make the best of what we have. Love those who love us harder, hold them a li’l longer, y’know?” He bobbed his head before his eyes dropped to his plate.

“Yeah, sure,” he replied, his voice thick as he twizzled his fork between his fingers like a drum stick. “I wish I’d have had more time to get to know Aunt Selene though.” He sighed and sniffed before picking his plate up and dumping it in the sink.

“Yeah, me too,” I mumbled into my glass of orange juice. Spearing the last piece of pancake on my fork, I used it to chase the few remaining drops of maple syrup around my plate when a little hand landed on my arm. My gaze tracked the pattern of Jessie’s top up her arm until I met her questioning gaze, amber eyes burning with a depth of emotion most eight-year-olds couldn’t possess.

“It’s gonna be alright, isn’t it?”

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