Liar

When I was about four or five years old, I had a terrible habit of lying when the truth would fit better. When I realized the effect it had on people, I broke myself of it. Why would someone test the possibility of losing the trust of a loved one? How could anyone be comfortable with himself or herself if he or she has lies to his or her family and friends? I know I would not be as close to as many people as I am if I weren’t trustworthy or honest with them. After my massive puerile realization, I promised myself I would never lie again unless it were required to do so to save the life of a family member, a friend or myself. I broke that promise; last night, I lied to a friend as well as myself. I took a night leave to a friend’s house last night so we could watch Gypsy, the movie version of the musical. We wanted to watch it for a heads up for the possible musical next year (I might get a lead roll). A boy drove me to my friend’s house, because he will be in the musical as well. I used to like the boy.

When we got to my friend’s house, we all went down to the basement to watch the movie and for the first time, I saw that she has a miniature movie theatre in the lowest level of her house. I was flabbergasted when I saw it, but there were only three nice seats and they were taken. I sat down in the back of the room, just on a regular wicker chair. It wasn’t very comfortable, but I just wanted to watch the movie. When the boy saw that I had sat away from everyone, he smoothly exclaimed, “I’ll share.” The words, though simple and seemingly without thought, were an obvious invitation to more than just a seat. I happily took the offer, though, and climbed into the chair. He surprised me and showed me it was a recliner, which apparently gave him an excuse to wrap his arm around my waist. My arms were crossed, my head faced directly in front of me, and my legs were stiff and straight. The light left the room and someone turned on the wide screen television.

As soon as the movie started, my friend texted me to make sure that nothing would happen between the boy and me. In reassurance, I merely replied, “Nothing will happen.” After about three minutes, the boy’s hand found its way to mine and our fingers interlaced. My heart, anxious for what would happen next, raced with anticipation. I tried to ignore his actions, but he moved closer to me. I laid my head on his shoulder and he placed his own on my head. A minute passed and I felt his lips, pursed, just in front of my crown. It was sweet. I placed my left hand on his chest. His heart rate was twice as rapid as my own. He was nervous too. Nearly an hour went by and finally a dear friend and his wife arrived. As we had promised them earlier, we stopped the movie so we could start it over for them. To be polite, the boy and I stood up and offered the seat to our dear friend’s wife. She courteously accepted the offer and reclined in the chair herself.

The boy and I took two wicker chairs from the back of the room, set them by each other, turned the lights back off and sat down. Five minutes passed and again, the chairs were uncomfortable. I gave the boy a glance and in return, he provided his own. We could read each other’s thoughts in an instant and we both quietly and slowly half-way stood up, pushed our chairs back and found spots on the floor. It was cold and the space between us was too great for our liking. He scooted over to where I sat, but my friend’s seat was in the way. So I moved over so that the boy could see through the space between two of the recliners. For another five minutes, I watched the movie. It was already a part we had seen, but I still wanted to watch. I finally caught him, out of my peripheral vision, paying no attention to the screen, but rather to me. I was surprised, but I turned my head and looked up. Our eyes met and he placed his arm, once again, around my waist. He pulled my body closer to his. Our cheeks brushed. My heart sped up again. His heart sped up again. Our eyes, still set in a fixed position towards the others’, stayed motionless while I lifted my hand to his chin and he ran his fingers through my hair. The movie continued to play, but I was too enthralled by the moment for anything else to distract me. He leaned in and gently rested his lips on mine. I felt him smile. I smiled back.

My friend turned around. “You WHORES,” she yelled. She seemed disappointed. I pointed my face at the screen. The boy turned my head back towards his and continued to kiss me. Just before my friend turned back around, I managed to detach myself from his grip. He recognized that I wanted to stop, so we watched the movie. It was still a repeat of what we had seen forty-five minutes prior. I went to the bathroom and when I came out, I saw the boy’s reflection in the microwave door, so I turned the corner to see why he was in there. “I offered to get *my friend* a drink,” he said with a subtle smirk. I walked nearer and knew why he had really left the room. He grabbed by hands, wrapped them around his neck and, yet again, kissed me. I didn’t reject his actions, but I knew it was wrong. My friend exited the room to find us in the kitchen, doing what she least wanted us to do.

I ran out of the kitchen, into my friend’s bedroom and hid under the covers. The boy went back into the theatre and my friend found me in her bed, afraid of her reaction. To my surprise, she was not angry. Instead, she was concerned. She didn’t care that I had gone against my initial claim to not do anything with the boy. She only wanted to keep me from getting hurt, which is understandable. We talked and talked. The boy opened the door to my friend’s room, poked his head through the space between the door and the frame, and asked if we were all right. We both nodded. He and I exchanged a grin and he knew to leave. My friend and I talked some more and we came to the conclusion that people do things even if they know the consequences will be bad. Temptation is too good sometimes. We hopped off the bed and returned to the theatre to watch the movie. We were too late; our dear friends paused the movie to go outside and smoke.

The boy and I sat down in separate recliners and talked it over. Everything was fine between us, so he offered a spot in his hand for mine to lie, and I accepted. Ten minutes flew by and our dear friends reentered the house to resume watching the film. We hopped back out of our seats for our friends. The light left the room once more and the movie carried on. After another hour, the movie was over and it was time to leave. I gathered my phone and my bag off of the cream colored rug, put on a hat and waited by the door. The boy swept his hand against mine to comfort me. It worked temporarily. We said good night to our friends and walked to his car. The ride back to the dorm was silent. It wasn’t awkward, but words refused to escape either of our mouths. He parked in front of the quad and we sat for a minute, still quiet. I picked up my things off the floor of his car and before I opened the door, I leaned in to kiss him one more time. He took the kiss and gave me one back. I got out of the car, got my book bag out of the trunk and walked away. He told me to text him. Later on, I did. But between the gravel of the parking lot and the jammed key hole of the dorm door, I could only think about my friend. I lied to her. I lied to myself. I thought I could hold back, but I’m weaker than I thought. My friend forgave me, and I want to forgive myself. That will take some time.