It’s probably a good thing I’m an honest soul, because I can’t lie to save my life. Usually I just take the beating I’ve got coming for whatever I did and move on. Life is a lot easier that way.
In high school, Leslie and I got up to some highly illegal shenanigans that probably would have landed us in jail had we been caught. But Leslie was always lucky and I rode her coattails. Until that time I snuck out of the house by walking right out the front door, leaving it unlocked behind me and leaving my house key behind. Because I’m not that bright. And MoC woke up at some point and locked my ass out. I spent a couple hours trying to figure out a way back in, but the only window I could get into happened to be right over my parents’ bed. At 8 the next morning, MoC came out on her way to work and demanded to know where I’d been. I started some stupid song and dance and she held up her hand and said, “Oh, for Christ’s sake, shut up and get in the house.”
That was the last time I tried to lie to her. Until today.
When MoC had the strokes and everything was up in the air, I went back to my old therapist. I saw her a few times and really thought I had everything back in its proper place, so I quit again. It was only supposed to be a short-term deal. But this road is a lot harder than I expected and it has some pretty sharp twists and it would be hard to go through it with anyone, I think, but with MoC … it’s just the most difficult thing I’ve ever faced. That’s the simplest way I can say it. It’s harder than watching my father die a miserable death from cancer. So I made another appointment a couple weeks ago because if there was ever a time in my life I can’t afford to be all emotional and take months to find my way through it (because I will find my way through it), it’s now. I need to have a grip on all of this – right now.
Today I told MoC I would be by tomorrow to help her sort through her bills and then I realized that I can’t because I have an appointment. So I said, “I can’t tomorrow, how about Thursday?”
And MoC pounced, like only MoC can. “What are you doing tomorrow? Tell me, tell me everything.”
I can’t tell her I’m seeing the therapist again. It’s not that she wouldn’t understand – I’m sure she would. But telling her would be like telling her it’s her fault. I don’t have a lot of secrets from MoC, but I don’t even know how to have that conversation with her without it sounding like I’m overwhelmed with her problems.
I was late to Easter dinner because Leslie kidnapped me and held me hostage at a casino until 3am.
So MoC said, “Really, what are you doing tomorrow?”
So I said, “I don’t tell you everything, you know.” Trying to buy time.
MoC: Oh, you have a date?
Me: No, I have an appointment.
MoC: So you do have a date.
Me: Not like that.
I changed the subject then and MoC let me … for about 5 minutes.
MoC: I paid Joy (the day person) back. I put the walker on her foot.
Me: Ha! Did you lean on it harder?
MoC: I thought about it, but decided not to. Now what are you up to tomorrow?
Me: It’s just a re-check with my doctor for my cholesterol meds. (whew! almost the truth and it reminded me to make the damn appointment)
MoC: Oh, I thought maybe you were planning another all-nighter at the casino.
And that’s when I knew she knew I was lying. She doesn’t know what I’m lying about, but she knows it’s something. And she won’t rest until she gets it out of me. Not because she’s so nosy, but just to torment me. Because she can.
Maybe I’ll tell her I’m going for my Master’s. Which reminds me that I need to get my gown out of the damn box or it’s going to be a wrinkled mess.