More Than Lies

by N. E. Henderson

  Kicking my shoes off, shucking my jeans, and pulling my t-shirt over my head takes mere moments before I’m jumping underneath the bunk across from Tara. By the time my head hits the pillow, the door is opening and in walks Mason and Matt. They are as quiet as possible before climbing on top of the bunk above Tara and me.

  Its hours before I’m able to crash out. The feel of Tara’s flesh burns on my hand for a long time.

  It’ll never happen.

  “Damn girl, that was delicious.” Kylie looks up from her empty plate to pay Tara a compliment on the breakfast we all just ate. A compliment that isn’t needed, not really, even, Tara knows she is a great cook.

  “Thanks, Ky.” She replies as she gets up from the table, taking her own empty plate to the sink. I mirror her actions, moving from my spot at the high-top counter.

  “I’ll second that,” Trent chimes in.

  My parents left an hour ago heading back to Mississippi. The eight of us remain and won’t be leaving until Sunday morning. I’ve been looking forward to riding my four-wheeler since the last time I was here nearing three months ago.

  “Now, I’m not so sure if it’s a good idea for you to move to in with us. You’ll make me fat if you’re living there, too.” Kylie laughs, but the room goes quiet. My thoughts of riding vanish.

  I am standing directly behind Tara, waiting to place my dishes into the sink.

  “What’s she talking about?” Tara’s body stills at the heat laced in my voice. My tone is harder than it should be for a casual conversation, but at the moment I don’t care. Tara can’t move to Jackson. I don’t give a fuck if it’s only a two-hour drive away. Less the way I drive, but that’s pointless. Why would she want to live in that cramped three-bedroom house anyway? It’s half the size of my house. It’s tiny for the three adults that live there now.

  She doesn’t move or turn around to face me. Trent pipes up though.

  “I asked my sister to move in with us when she graduates in June.” His voice is cool, but I didn’t miss the unsaid words coming from Tara’s brother. I jerk my head toward where he’s still seated at the table. Trent’s smirk has me wanting to wipe it off with my fist.

  Turning to look at the back of Tara’s head as she tries to scoot out of my way, I grab her hip with my free hand. Leaning forward, I place my dirty dishes on top of her in the sink, whispering into her ear as I do it, “Are you?”

  “I haven’t thought about it much.” Her voice is also a whisper with a hint of sadness. “I don’t know yet.” She presses into my palm so I release her and she moves away from me.

  “God, grad is still a half a year away.” Mason groans. “I don’t want to think about becoming an adult in that short amount of time so let’s go get dirty.”

  “You’re already an adult, loser.” That’s Layla. She’s the middle sibling between Kylie and Mase. She lives in New York and is only down for the holiday. Layla’s an actress that performs on Broadway, though I’ve never seen one of her plays. I don’t intend to. I’m sure she is good, but it’s not my thing.

  “Yeah, maybe in years, but he is most certainly not an adult, are you little brother?” Where Mason and Layla fight like cats and dogs, and often, so it’s a good things they lives far away from each other, Kylie adores him and will do anything for Mason. Maybe it’s being the youngest, I don’t know, but he has her wrapped tight around his finger.

  “You know it, sis.”

  “Are we going to chat all day or ride, people?” Matt asks the room, his question addressed to no one in particular and everyone at the same time.

  “Ride. I need a break from you motherfuckers.” Shane stands. “Taralynn, breakfast was great as always, sweetness. I’m going to gear up. See y’all outside in a few.” With that, my brother leaves the room and everyone follows suit.

  Even though we’ll all be riding together, but on separate machines, we each have a device inside our helmet that allows us to talk to each other when we want. We don’t talk much, though. Being free, out in the open on dirt, and lost inside our own heads is what this is all about.

  “I’ll never understand my sister’s infatuation with…you.” Here we go again. Wonk, wonk, wonk. This speech was old when I heard it back in high school.

  Only Trent and I remain in the kitchen. The others exited to go put their riding gear on.

  “That makes two of us.” I reply flatly. I don’t get it. Tara should want someone good, deserving; someone like her and someone that fits.

  “I get why you want her.”

  “I don’t want her,” I snap back.

  “Lie to someone that hasn’t known you since you were still pissing the bed.” He spent the night with my brother numerous times when I was a little kid. Only once did he witness that accident.

  “I was five, fucker,” Asshole.

  “Like I was saying, I get why you like Taralynn. Everything about her is good, kind, loving; unlike all the little pieces of trash you wet your dick with.”

  “Just because I’m not still fucking the same chick I lost my virginity to, doesn’t mean everyone I screw is trash. I’m sure a lot of them are plenty nice. I just don’t care to find out.” What would be the point? Pussy is a dime a dozen. There are always women willing and ready to be screwed.

  “She won’t always be waiting for you to wake up, you know.”

  “I’m done with this topic. See ya outside.” And with that I leave the kitchen to change into my riding gear. The sooner I get onto my four-wheeler, the sooner I’ll have a clear head because last night needs to cease from exiting in my mind.

  It’s the week before Christmas and all of my finals for the semester are complete. Thank God. One more semester to go and I’ll be officially an adult. At least that’s the way I see it. No more school and the real world will begin.

  I don’t know if I’m excited or dreading it. Maybe a little bit of both. None of us have spoken on what happens after graduation. Shawn, I know is staying here. At least for now if buying the tattoo studio pays off. Mason I’m not sure of. Matt and I can do our jobs from anywhere.

  Shawn and Adam are planning on telling everyone about the hand over this evening. They are making some immediate changes in staffing. At least Shawn is planning that. I don’t know if Adam knows anything yet. I have to be there to get payroll completed this afternoon, but I’m hoping to get out of there before it all goes down.

  Matt wants to be an editor. Freelance work is everywhere. He’s done it for years, editing papers for his classmates in high school and that continued in college. He’s gotten more and more work every year. I don’t see him having any problems. He’s my editor, actually. I like having an editor that hates all things romance fiction related. I think they are able to catch more errors.

  Mason is a computer engineer. I don’t really know what that entails because when he starts talking it’s like listening to someone speaking a different language. I know he’s brilliant at designing websites, but I don’t think that covers the half of his intelligence when it comes to computers.

  You wouldn’t think it looking at him. He was always into sports and guy stuff in high school. Not that computer guys or girls equal geeks, but you know it’s impossible not to stereotype people sometimes. Mason was popular is all I’m saying.

  I’m sitting in a posh breakfast restaurant at the moment waiting on my mother to arrive. To be honest, I didn’t know these places existed in Mississippi. Apparently one does. Who knew?

  It’s not like her to request my presence like this. She wants to talk which translates to she wants to talk and expects me to sit and listen, being the good little girl I’m expected to be and take what my mommy says. I need a throw up bag. I’m over her crap.

  That’s a lie.

  I don’t understand why I want my parents’ approval so badly. It shouldn’t matter what they or anyone else think of me. I need to learn how to be happy with me.

  “Taralynn,” her voice sings. It’s not a loving melody. It’s a snooty, you�
��re a waste of my time, hateful sound. “So glad you could drop by to have a chat with me.” Drop by? I drove an hour out of my way to come see her. I wouldn’t call this dropping by.

  “Certainly, mother.” I don’t call her mom like my brother does. I don’t even refer to her as, momma, like Shawn and his brother call Pam. No, she’s always been Mother. This is at her request. She wouldn’t allow mommy or any other word thereof, but, mother. It’s so formal, like her, and I hate it. I never want my kids to call me that word.

  “What can I get you today, ladies?” I look up to see a tall lanky waiter in black attire standing before us.

  “A sparkling water for the both of us.” My mother doesn’t look at the waiter when she relays her order. She doesn’t look at many people, well except those she is trying to act like. “I’ll have an egg white omelet, no salt, all vegetables.” She didn’t even open her menu. I guess she comes here often.

  “And for you madam?” He smiles down at me.

  “Pancakes, please and real maple syrup.” I close the menu.

  “The egg white omelet is a must, Taralynn.”

  “I like pancakes, Mother.” And I don’t have them very often, surely an uppity place like this should make delicious sweet goodness.

  “They like your thighs too.” Ouch. She is starting early. The waiter’s eyes widen. I smile up at him as if her words don’t faze me. They do, but I won’t let her see that everything she says to me hurts.

  Our waters are delivered almost instantly. I guess the guy sees how she talks to me so he plans on staying on his p’s and q’s. That’s probably a good plan. Katherine Evans isn’t afraid to call over a manager when someone doesn’t do something she likes or is taking longer than she feels it should.

  I don’t like sparkling water. I hate the fizziness. It’s like drinking flat, tasteless champagne.

  “Your brother only has two more years after this one to finish up his residency.” She takes a sip and then places it down onto the table. “He’ll be deciding on what fellowship program he wants to go after soon.”

  “Yes, he will.” I know this already. “I’m sure he and Kylie will end up at the same hospital, close to Orlando, if not there.” Trent wants to be a trauma surgeon and work in an ER. Kylie wants to be a plastic surgeon. She loves Orlando and has always wanted to live in Florida.

  “Right.” My mother bites out. “Jackson needs someone with your brother’s skills. North Mississippi could use someone like him as well. My son has a lot of options in front of him.” She always refers to Trent as, her son, but I’ve never heard her call me her daughter. I used to think it was odd, but then I realized my mother doesn’t like me very much. I’ve never known why. I don’t know what I could have done to lose her love. If I knew, maybe I could have fixed it a long time ago. Problem is, I’ve always gotten the feeling it has to do with the fact that I was born. So, maybe I never had her love to begin with.

  “True.” I’m not going to argue with her. Trent doesn’t want to stay in Mississippi and neither does Kylie. I don’t know much about how it works when you become a doctor, but I know they want to be together and they want to create a home for themselves.

  “You graduate college in six months, Taralynn. What are your options?” So this is why I’m here. Freakin’ awesome.

  “The same options they have been since before I started college, Mother. You know I want to be a writer. I am a writer. That hasn’t changed. It’s not going to change.” I place emphases on the last sentence. This isn’t a conversation I want to hash out with her again. It’s been done over and over and she doesn’t understand, although maybe she does and doesn’t care.

  If something doesn’t fit into her square little box then it’s wrong.

  “That’s just not going to work and you know it.” Our food arrives at the same moments those words spill from her lips.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I can’t help myself. Writing is the one thing in my life that centers me. I can get lost inside my head, letting everything bottled up inside me flow out into words, exiting forever. I can’t do that any other way. And she can’t take that from me. I won’t let her take that from me.

  “Your father and I have built our name from the ground up. Trent and you have a duty to uphold it and honor it. Trent is doing that well. You on the other hand are not. Writing fairy tale trash is not only laughable, but also disgraceful. You might as well label the word garbage across your chest.” She neatly cuts her food and takes a bite as her words sink in. She’s never been this harsh before.

  I’ve lost my appetite. Eating will only make the food come back up.

  She really is a bitch.

  That’s loud and clear to see.

  “Mother,” I don’t get further than that word. My voice cracks and I won’t allow her to see my tears. Never will I allow that. I breathe in through my mouth and exhale the same way.

  “Young lady, you have six months until graduation to make the right decision for your future. I’ve done all I can do. The rest is up to you.” She takes another bite of food. She obviously isn’t having the same issues in the eating department that I am.

  “You’re going to have to explain better than that, Mother.”

  “Preston will make a fine husband and son in law to your father and me. He will make our family proud. You would be smart to grab him up before someone else is smart enough to do so. Do you understand what I’m saying now?”

  “My plans don’t include getting married anytime soon. I don’t like Preston. I thought that was obvious months ago.” There was zero chemistry. It’s not going to happen. She can bet her most expensive Louboutin heels on that.

  “Yes, well he is still interested in you. God only knows why. He has long-term plans for the future. Don’t be dumb, wasting your time on a boy who doesn’t want you not to mention doesn’t fit into our family.”

  She’s talking about Shawn. She knows I like him and have liked him since I was a little kid. I told her so when I was a small child. When I still believed in having that mother-daughter relationship that I so desperately craved.

  Just because Shawn doesn’t fit into her idea of what our family is, doesn’t mean he doesn’t fit into mine. Hell, I don’t think I fit into my family and never have and certainly never will.

  “Stop judging him. You know nothing about Shawn.” She should, he’s been around since I was five years old.

  “I know more than you think, about him and about you, young lady. I know that you work in a low life bar and hang around that tattoo place Shawn Braden calls a job. I mean really, that boy will never grow up. He will never be husband material, Taralynn. Stop dreaming and start making an effort in this family.” She polishes off her omelet and I haven’t even touched my breakfast. I don’t plan to either and I don’t plan on staying here any longer. I’m sick of her crap. I’m sick of being her daughter and I’m sick of taking her verbal abuse.

  I’m done!

  “Shawn’s a tattoo artist. He has more talent than you’ll ever know.”

  “You call that talent? Oh please. Wake up, Taralynn. I’m trying to help you. What he does is not talent and neither is what you call writing.” She takes a sip of her water as I push back my chair. “Where are you going? We aren’t done and you haven’t touched your meal. If I’m paying for it the least you can do is eat. After all you’re the one that ordered it.”

  “I’m done, Mother. I’m not hungry any longer and that tattoo place I hang around,” I do air quote to drive my point home. “Is a job.” After Shawn found out Adam wasn’t paying me, he made sure the following week I was writing myself a pay check too. I have to admit, I’m making more there working a few hours a day than I do in crappy tips at Mac’s three nights a week.

  I stand but she isn’t finished.

  “Think about what I’ve said. I’m serious, Taralynn, you have until graduation. If you make the wrong choice then your father and I have no choice, but to make a decision of our own. If you want to cont
inue being a member of this family then you’ll grow up.” She looks down at her empty plate as if dismissing me.

  I don’t respond. Instead I walk away knowing that if my parents want to give me an ultimatum regarding my life then so be it. I’m a big girl and I’m determined. I will make it.

  What she says will not affect me.

  The problem is, do I believe that lie?

  Tara arrived two hours ago. She told me the day before she’d probably be late because she was having brunch or breakfast or some shit like that with her mother. She wasn’t though. In fact she arrived a few minutes after I did. I was setting up my station for my first client of the day when she walked in.

  I don’t think her encounter with the evil queen went so well. Tara wears her feelings across her face so it’s easy to tell when she is upset. She normally masks it when it comes to her parents. That shit’s gotta bother her. The way they treat her, it would bother anyone except maybe me. I don’t let petty stuff get to me so easy.

  I spray my chair with cleaner and then wipe it down with a paper towel. Last I discard my latex gloves, tossing them into the trashcan.

  Samantha, the girl I just finished tattooing, is a classmate of Tara’s. Apparently, she and Tara were talking last week about the girl getting her first one. She had planned to let a local artist in her hometown in north Mississippi do it. I’ve heard of the place. Kenny apprenticed there years back.

  When Tara told us, there was no way I could let the girl go through with it. I don’t know her well. In fact her coming in today was our first meeting in person. I spoke to her a few days ago and she described what she wanted. I played around with some designs and then sent a photograph via text of two of them.

  She responded immediately that she loved both, but picked the shield with a bright blue shining light behind it. Her dad was a cop. He lost his life in the line of duty a year ago. She wanted to honor him with a brand on the top of her arm and right below her shoulder for all to see. The way she spoke of the man, you could tell she was proud of her dad.