Page 88 of Submissive Lies

I explained everything to Steve as the summer afternoon drifted past us. The breeze from the ocean came across the deck occasionally, the low murmur of nearby conversations a background white noise to my own voice. The sun was warm, but as I poured out my soul to Steve, I felt cold. Reliving all of this again absorbed whatever heat I should have felt. Not that that stopped me. I drove on. No excruciating detail left unsaid. I explained to him every decision I’d made, every lie I’d told, all of it. I tried to make him understand why I had done what I’d done without giving the impression I was trying to defend it. When I came to the part where I told him of my break-up with Thomas, how we had fought, and then argued, and then realized that it was truly over, that it had been over for a while… my voice stopped. We sat in silence, staring at each other. I could hear laughter from somewhere in the distance, and the breeze carried the scent of salt and sea by.

Steve looked at me with eyes that bore straight through me. Searching for a way to discern whether this was yet another pack of lies. Or the truth.

I had done everything I could. I’d told my story. I had hidden nothing from him. There were no lies this time. Nothing to lessen the impact of my confession, and now I sat looking at him like a criminal before a jury, waiting for the final verdict.

Steve gave a slight shake of his head, lips pressed together.

“Jesus Christ, Jen.” It was all he said. The silence stretched on, and his eyes never left me.

“I can really be stupid sometimes.” I said it in a soft voice, to break the quiet.

“No.” He grimaced, and this time when he shook his head it was stern. “No. That’s a cop-out. You made some bad decisions. That’s all. I mean, they were really, really, really bad decisions, true, but… people do that all the time. You know that as well as I do.”

I pursed my lips, and then nodded. “Fair enough.”

“Making a bad decision doesn’t make you stupid. It just makes you human.”

I couldn’t think of a word to say. And I was afraid if I did, I’d cry.

Steve took a drink from his glass, and then ran his hand across his jaw.

“Well, I asked for an explanation, and you sure as hell provided one.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat down.

“There’s nothing I can say that justifies what I did, Steve. All I can do is say I’m sorry. And hope that you’ll be able to forgive me someday” I said it softly, trying to keep my voice as neutral as I could, the tears at bay.

The space around us went still.

“I want to.”

I let my eyes close. Opening them only when he began speaking again.

“I didn’t bullshit you, Jen. When I said how much I’ve been thinking about you. Because I have. And maybe part of the reason for that is I had a…feeling. A sense that there had to be more behind what you did than I understood.” Steve paused, looking away.

“I don’t know. It just bothered me. What you did to me was shitty. Really fucking shitty. And yet when it all went down, it just didn’t make sense. I knew you for two days, Jen. Two fucking days. And even after what happened, I still couldn’t stop thinking about you. It didn’t add up. It wasn’t the you I’d formed in my head.” Steve took a deep breath, and then let it out slowly. “None of it made sense to me, and I’ve come at this thing from every angle I could since I left Chicago. And every time I just end up with the same questions, the same frustration.” He pointed his finger at me. “I couldn’t tell you why I thought the way I did, or what made me so goddamn sure I was right, but I did. Whatever was going on back then, it just wasn’t you.”

“But it was.” I whispered the words, my voice cracking with a sadness that wanted to spill out of me.

“I know. But the difference is now I know why, Jen. I know the why behind what made you do what you did. Something that even then I knew, deep down, really wasn’t you.” He stared at me, and for the first time this afternoon I saw something more than the neutral look he had been maintaining all this time.

I saw compassion.

I turned away, looking out over the deck railing. “It was me, though. It was stupid and dumb and selfish and yet I did it anyways. I became the very thing I hated most. A liar who kept building lie upon lie to try to get myself out of a situation that I’d created from the worst lie of all. The one I told myself. That I could change who I am by simply willing it to be.” I stopped, biting my lip to regain control I felt slipping.

“You think you’re the first person in the world to do that?” Steve’s voice was gentle but firm.

“No. But is knowing that supposed to help?”

“Probably not. About all it’s going to do is help you understand that it has happened to people before you, it will happen to people after you, and to help try and recognize that it doesn’t define you forever. People have recovered from it. People have survived and gone on to lead happy lives. Even with the very people that they once lied to.”

I pushed my lips together tightly as he said that. I did not waver as his eyes locked onto mine.

“Okay.” I took in a steadying breath, then let it out slowly. “So here we are. You wanted an hour, and my explanation.” I spread my hands open. “There it is. In all the gory details.” I slowly let them fall into my lap.

“What now?”

A lifetime seemed to pass. Steve glanced down at my plate.

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