Truth Hurts

by David Boyle

  “Let’s just go, Er. There’s nothing here.”

  Rummaging around the ground, Erin didn’t respond to him.

  Raymond shrugged his shoulders. “What are you hoping to find anyway?”

  “Quiet down, will ya. Don’t put a damper on the mood.” Raymond had already begun walking back toward the restaurant.

  Not minutes later, Erin yelled “Yes!” drawing Raymond’s attention. She ran up to him. “I told you. I told you, you idiot. The treasure is mine!”

  “Hooray,” Raymond said. “You found a pen, an old filthy cracked pen.”

  Erin grabbed Raymond’s hand, turned his palm up. “Not just any pen.” She wrote on his palm, I love you, with a heart in place of the word love. “This one’s been here a long time… and it still works! That’s what I call a treasure.”

  Raymond put his arm around her. “You’re something else, you know that?”

  On their way to the theatre Raymond and Erin passed a shopping plaza. A white BMW was pulling out of the lot. Erin thought it was Doctor Pastillo’s. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said. “Do you know what the odds are? Of our paths crossing at this time? Here?”

  “Stop worrying, Erin. It’s not him.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “You mean to tell me he’s gonna leave an office with a roomful of patients? Drive across town to this particular strip mall? Fifteen miles out of the way?

  “The idea sounds ridiculous, sure…but it doesn’t mean it’s not him.”

  “So what if it is? Even if he confronts you tomorrow, you can easily make something up.”

  “That’s so immature, Ray. Having to lie my way out of the mess I made.”

  “You lied to him this morning, didn’t you? That took finagling. You must have known on some level what you were doing…why we were doing it.”

  Erin glared at him inquisitively but did not respond.

  Raymond held up his finger at her. “Please, don’t start on some moral crusade. I just don’t think you should be concerned about circumstances you can’t control. Let’s not sour the moment.”

  Erin fiddled with her door handle. “I don’t mean to. I guess I’m just afraid of going against the grain, of ruining people’s perception of me. I’ve always been so straight-laced, conscientious.”

  “Look where our honesty has gotten us…more work, more stress—less play. Today was time to take back.”

  Erin fidgeted with her wedding ring, nodded.

  “Good thing you trusted me this morning, Erin. You were daring and resourceful when you needed to be. Your instincts summoned you. Don’t let guilt gnaw at you. Just relax.”

  Erin looked at Raymond and smiled weakly. About a minute passed in silence. Then she said, “Have you ever wondered what it’d be like to not have to work at all?”

  Raymond tightened his grip on the wheel. “Why do you ask such things? You know the answer already. Our life is what it is.”

  “They’re just questions.”

  “But they come out of nowhere. And they tend to darken our spirits, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Oh, come on now. We’ve always chatted about all kinds of stuff. Been brutally honest about subjects that other couples find too intense.”

  “I realize that. It’s just…why do we always have to discuss circumstances that are unchangeable?”

  “It’s called making conversation. Easy does it.”

  “Why spoil our good time… our momentum. Who knows when—or if—we’ll do something like this ever again?”

  “You made your point, Ray. Let’s not belabor it.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Thank you.”

  A charming movie theatre on the outskirts of town about half the size of a multiplex, Take One attracted throngs of guests, especially on weekends. Renowned for its cheaper admission prices and reasonably priced concessions, it was a hot spot in the city of Brackard. Their business thrived because they diversified selections, showing classic black-and-white films, silent films, and twice a year organizing festivals. And they had a family-friendly staff that had a very strong rapport with the customers.

  Raymond and Erin had suggested to the owners a variety of films over the years. Last year, Erin convinced the theater to get a print of an old Bette Davis film; Raymond lobbied for “It’s a Wonderful Life” to celebrate the holidays. Seated in the back row nibbling on popcorn, Raymond and Erin watched “The French Connection.” Today was the last day of “Hackman Week.” About a dozen people were in the theatre, typical for a weekday. “When was the last time we did this?” Erin asked. “During the day you get the whole place to yourself. I feel like a teenager again. Like I skipped school to see a movie my parents didn’t want me to see. Remember those days, Ray?”

  “Yeah. That’s the whole point of doing this: Freedom. To rediscover ourselves. To learn that growing old does not mean you can’t remain a kid at heart.”

  Erin put her arm around Ray and pulled him close. “You know what I miss about my days spent in dark theatres?”

  “What?”

  “Making out.”

  “Who were you making out with, Loose Lips? Cause we never kissed in a movie theatre.”

  “Well… time to rewrite history with my hubby.”

  After a few minutes the usher barged into the theatre and put on the lights. Erin and Raymond shielded their eyes. “Sorry to break you two up,” joked the usher, straightening his necktie. “You should have seen what I found a couple doing last week. I think they forgot where they were.”

  “Jealous?” Raymond said to him playfully. Having been acquainted with the usher for many years, Raymond knew he could chide him.

  “Of you?” The usher’s eyes darted at Erin, then back to Raymond. “Very. I can’t remember the last time my wife and I necked like that…especially at the movies. Sometimes the passion fades, though, right?” The usher tapped the side of Raymond’s chair. “Gotta go.”

  “I hope not,” muttered Erin.

  The usher walked to the front of the auditorium and faced the audience. “Your attention, please. Ladies and gentlemen, there’s been a slight problem with the projector. We’ll get the movie up and running shortly. We apologize for the inconvenience. So, please, feel free to get a small popcorn from the concession stand—on the house, of course.”

  “You want anything?” Raymond asked, rising from his chair. “I’m not opposed to a freebie.”

  “Yeah,” Erin said. “Please sit down for a sec. I want to ask you something.”

  “But,” Ray said, pointing over his shoulder toward the hallway leading to the concession stand.

  “I don’t want anything, Ray. Except your attention—for just one second.”

  Raymond got back in his seat. “You okay? You got a weird look in your eyes. I don’t often see that unless you’re about to drop a big one on me.”

  “I want you to know, Raymond, that I haven’t had this much fun in a long time. I mean it. This was the best idea you’ve ever had. It was spontaneous and gutsy.” She put her hand on his neck, licked her lips. “And romantic.”

  Raymond smiled. “Thanks, Er. Don’t make me out to be a hero just yet. Especially with the gutsy part. I’ve wanted to do this many times before but kept chickening out.”

  “But we’re here now,” Erin said in a soothing voice. And I suddenly feel inspired to make changes in our life.”

  “Changes? What’s wrong with our life?”

  “Nothing, Ray. Zilch.”

  Raymond scratched the side of his nose. “Then what’s the deal? Do tell.”

  “It wouldn’t be such a bad idea if we enjoyed ourselves more. Got out of the house more than we have been. Found ways to be childlike… without being childish. Even though we can’t stop growing old, you know?”

  “I’m with you, Erin. Care to elaborate?”

  “All right, ladies and gentlemen,” the usher bellowed upon entering the theatre again. “We’ve fixed the glitch and the movie will res
ume. Thanks for your patience.”

  The lights dimmed, the screen came to life.

  Erin gave Raymond a quick kiss. “To be continued.”

  As Raymond turned onto Murray Lane en route to their friend Marty’s house (Marty owned a kayak. Raymond wanted to borrow it and take Erin on the lake.), Erin pointed at the sprawling grounds of the old Wilkinson Farm and Nursery. The land covered tens of acres, most of it now flattened, barren. At the center stood a neglected barn, which used to be a general store. Erin couldn’t stop conjuring up memories of when she used to go there. When she and Raymond moved into Brackard County fifteen years ago, the nursery was one of the first sights she’d seen, an eye-inviting landmark to drive by. She used to buy snacks from the general store that she and Raymond could share with the kids in the neighborhood. Wilkinson’s became a regular stop during her weekend errands, a place where the owner, Gerard Davies, knew his customers by name, especially Erin, who patronized his store more steadily than most of his regulars. Erin reminisced about those days. “Remember that place, Ray?”

  “Boy, do I. You couldn’t stay away from that joint.”

  “Yeah. Mr. Davies was so nice. Every time I bought a bag of black licorice, he’d give me a free bag. He knew you loved the stuff. He said hardly anybody else bought that flavor. He probably stocked it just for you”

  “I bet you’re right. He was a one-of-a-kind guy. You could have blindfolded him and he still would have been able to tell his customers apart.”

  Suddenly gloomy, Erin stared at what remained of the barn: a large burgundy building with a cylindrical turret at the center, the windows broken, the wood marred by graffiti, the wooden shakes dangling from the wall. “They’re gonna tear down that cute barn and put up some- thing useless. I just know it. How sad that’ll be. One man’s legacy—a man who really cared about his town and the people in it—will be demolished in a matter of minutes, as if it never existed.”

  Instead of turning down the next street toward Marty’s house, Raymond went straight. “You know what Erin? We’re going home to get our camera.”

  “For what?”

  “We’re going to snap a few shots of us in front of the barn, in the barn. Make the best of our memories before the place is reduced to dust. Before it’s too late.”

  “Do you mean it, Ray? Really? You’d do that?”

  “Yup. That’s exactly what I’m gonna do right now.”

  Erin’s smile had returned. “This day has been full of surprises. And we still have so much time ahead of us. You’re really something, Ray.”

  “I hope that’s a good thing.”

  “What else could it be?”

  Raymond approached the house and made a sharp turn into the driveway. “You wait here. I’ll grab the camera and rush back.” As he got into the house and out of sight, Erin thought about what this day meant to her, how exhilarating it would be if they could always spend their time so fruitfully, so happily, so impulsively. Sure, she realized they needed to work for a living and take care of their domestic and personal responsibilities. But she wondered why life had to become so routine, monotonous. Was there any way for them to strike a favorable balance between work and fun? Erin’s mind was vigorously formulating ideas. She knew that her and Raymond’s life, even though it had been better than that of many others. She had nothing to bemoan, no substantive complaints. Yet she couldn’t help imagining what life would be like without having to work so hard, without striving to achieve more in their careers, without having to suffer the effects of inertia.

  Determined to make sense of these troublesome thoughts, she went in the house to find Raymond, who was on his way down the stairs with the camera in his hands, a smile on his face. When he saw Erin, he became excited. “Got it,” he said. “A little harder to find than I thought, but we’re ready.”

  Erin grabbed his hand. “Can we talk?”

  “Again? Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

  He examined the camera, making sure it had a cartridge of film. “Don’t you want to get to the barn and get some shots off?”

  “It can wait, Ray. I really want to throw an idea at you. Humor me?”

  Raymond sat down on one of the bottom steps and placed the camera on the next step. “I’m all ears. Step into my office.”

  Erin sat just above him on the landing. “This is nice, Ray. It’s quiet. Cozy. You can actually hear yourself breathe.”

  “I like it this way too. Reminds me of when we first met, when I lived in that walk-up on Blaylock. We used to hang out on the front steps all the time and talk until the sun came up. We never got bored, or ran out of things to say.”

  “That’s kind of what I want to talk to you about.”

  “Oh? The Blaylock Avenue days?”

  “Well…yes and no. You see…it’s the kind of life we were living back then, which is sort of different from our life now.”

  The color seemed to fade from Raymond’s face. “You unhappy, Er? I hope that’s not it.”

  “I’ve never been unhappy, Ray. I like our life. The good and the bad and all that comes with it. That’s no lie.”

  “So what gives? What’s on your mind?”

  Erin’s eyes became glassy. “The possibility of improving our lives. Just a little bit. To find a way to do the things we used to do. To get that old mindset back.”

  Raymond stared off into space. With his fingers he pulled his dark hair away from his eyes. Erin folded her arms and leaned her head against the wall. “This idea you had—to leave work unexpectedly and seize the day—has stirred up a lot of feelings in me. It’s made me think about how our future could be if we made a commitment to changing—”

  “Erin, let’s get something straight. I took a chance today. It was a crazy idea. The impulse got the best of me. But we can’t just do that whenever we want. We’d get fired, or who knows what would happen. I acted in the heat of the moment.”

  “I’m not saying be careless. I’m talking about making adjustments in our thinking. In our careers.”

  “Like?”

  “We could cut back our schedules, not work the extra hours. That’s a start, wouldn’t you say?”

  “It’s not that easy, Erin. The bills, not to mention the college loans, aren’t going to disappear. Even fun things cost money—movies, restaurants, shopping sprees. Don’t get too carried away by your emotions now. We can’t just revamp our life overnight and expect to live happily ever after. That’s not reality.”

  “I know. But what if I cut back on my night classes (they’re boring anyway, and the last time I took a class the doc gave me only a 50-cent raise) and you backed off on some of your overtime? Besides, I don’t mind sacrificing simple pleasures so we could—”

  “Erin, you’re getting way ahead of yourself. If we didn’t need the money, we wouldn’t have all the extra work on our plate. Come back to earth, okay?”

  Erin pulled her knees up to her chest, hugged them. “I realize that, Ray. But we could cut corners and still get by just fine. We’re not paupers, for crying out loud.”

  Raymond huffed. “I don’t see how that’s possible. I don’t want to think about it right now anyway. It’s not a good time.”

  Erin stifled a laugh. “When is a good time? Huh? I’m talking about living more comfortably…and you act as though I’m making matters worse.”

  Raymond stood. Then he looked down at her and around the room, slowly and purposefully. He raised his hands in the air, as if perplexed. “This is our life. We work hard for it. I never thought of myself as someone who ‘settled.’ I got exactly what I wanted out of life.” He gave Erin a thoughtful, penetrating stare. “And I hope you did too.”

  Erin got up and wrapped her arms around him, then whispered, “Of course I did. But when the time is right one day, I wouldn’t mind taking a bigger chance. For better or for worse. That’s all I’m saying.”

  Raymond kissed Erin’s forehead and eased himself from their embrace. “
How about we get those shots now? All right?”

  Erin grabbed his shirt sleeve. “Okay,” she mumbled.

  The interior of Wilkinson’s barn still looked as strong as it did years ago. Since it had been gutted a while back, all that was left were bare walls, a stripped-down oval counter, and some scattered junk. Emptied of its contents and without a roomful of customers, the place seemed much larger than they had imagined it to be, like a big abandoned cathedral. As Erin and Raymond walked about the main floor their footsteps echoed on the hardwood. Dust puffed off the old timbers.

  With her right foot Erin pushed down hard on a floor plank; she groped a nearby wall beam and admired its girth. “This place is still impressive, still sturdy.”

  Raymond leaned against the counter and looked over the top at the barren shelves. “You’re not kidding. I’m hard-pressed to find a weakness. The old man took great care of this place. He did it all alone too. His wife was kind of lazy, remember? A real lump.”

  Erin shook her head. “Too bad Tabitha didn’t appreciate what they had. What her husband accomplished all by himself—without even a high-school diploma. She came from a rich family, I think.”

  “Yeah. They owned a trucking company. Had offices all over the world. One of their connections wanted to buy this place, so Tabitha pushed him to sell it and move out of town. He just wanted to please her. But she never reciprocated. I’ll tell ya, some people can be cruel and unfair.”

  Erin stood where the licorice rack used to be, her lips parted. “I still can’t believe it.”

  “Look where it got him.” Raymond took a bird’s eye view of the room. “A dream brought to life…and then wasted. Soon to be scrapped.”

  Raymond eyed Erin. Erin had already been facing him. They held each other’s gaze for about ten seconds. Raymond grinned. “Enough about the Davies. About that picture?”

  Erin winked, twirled her hair. She glanced at the staircase which led to the second and third levels. “I’m sure there’s a perfect place up there to get off some memorable shots…or to make a new memory.”