Truth Hurts

by David Boyle

  Raymond walked up to Erin and hugged her. He relished the sensation of her warm, tender embrace, her soft hands resting on his shoulders, her silky hair tickling his nose, her redolence. “Who needs a camera?” he said. “I’ll never forget this moment—this day—ever.”

  Erin stepped back a few inches. With her index finger she traced his cheek, rubbed the bottom of his lower lip, his chin. She was fighting back tears. A smile enlivened her face; her hazel-green eyes sought Raymond’s.

  Raymond rubbed her arms, and then they joined hands, just like this morning in bed, before the delightful mysteries of the day unfolded, like a young, happy-go-lucky couple finding each other for the first time all over again. Raymond swallowed, choked up. “The rewards of the future depend on how you savor the present. Because—the now—it’s all you’ve got.”

  “You just make that up?” Erin asked. “It’s nice.”

  “Yes. I did. I’m not much of a poet, but I can lie with the best of them. Now I have to come up with more reasons to play hooky again—and so do you.”

  Erin beamed. “Just name the time and place, and I’ll be there. I’ll always follow your lead. Your heart’s always in the right place—the best place. What more could I ask for?”

  THE TURN AROUND

  Jessica Talbot paced about her room, her new leather heels clicking on the hardwood, her dress royal blue but conservative, neatly pressed yet accenting her curvy figure. Despite her new outfit she was incredibly nervous. She had been given a second chance, a third chance, and this was her fourth. She had, for the last few years, been wrestling with a spending addiction, maxing out her credit cards and falling deeply in debt. When her father died a year ago he left her sizable funds to pay her bills and get back on her feet. Over time, Jessica and her mother had been battling each other in typical unresolved mother/daughter conflicts, including Jessica’s isolated cases of marijuana smoking and, in her teenage years, sneaking out of the house to visit her boyfriends. Jessica, now a twenty-year-old, was trying to piece her life back together again, especially with the help of her father’s will money. However, she soon found herself plummeting deeper into trouble.

  Within months of moving into a new apartment, she had squandered much of her inheritance and bounced from job to job. She had even lost a good-paying position at a store in the mall when she was caught taking cash from the register to buy designer clothes. She replaced the money a week later in lieu of a stiffer penalty. After that job, Jessica snuck into her parents’ house on numerous occasions, stealing money from her mother’s dresser drawer. When her mother discovered that sums of cash had vanished, she confronted her only child, who came clean. As infuriated as she was with her daughter, she caved in to Jessica’s constant and tearful pleas for forgiveness. Lorraine, Jessica’s mother, insisted that if her daughter failed to turn her life around soon she would disown her.

  When all possible solutions proved futile, Lorraine used her only resource, one of her late husband’s connections, to find Jessica worthy employment. Thank goodness she knew Connor Hartley, a prominent businessman who had often worked on projects with Lorraine’s late husband. Hartley was willing to give Jessica a chance at his office, working for more money than she had ever earned before: filing, answering phones, and floating between departments as the need arose. Jessica jumped at Hartley’s generosity. Her mother was eager to see how committed Jessica was to straightening out her life and bringing them closer together, perhaps also honoring her father’s good name and reputation. This was not going to be easy but there was something in Jessica’s eyes that told her mother a new chapter was about to begin. In the past, for instance, when Jessica had been sincere over less significant matters, she had that little twinkle in her eye that only her mother could detect. Lorraine saw it once more and hoped it was true.

  Jessica combed the remaining knots from her long red hair and grabbed her purse. She rummaged through the contents, pushing aside a pack of gum, hand lotion, and sleeping pills, which she hadn’t used in days. She so desperately wanted to erase her troubled past—taking the pills was part of it and a long road to recovery lay ahead. She dumped the few troubling items in the toilet and flushed them away. It was time to set her life straight again. At the bottom of her purse she found a pack of mints, popped one in her mouth and off to work she went.

  A sizable winter storm, with heavy snow and ice, had passed through town yesterday but now the roads were passable. Jessica was relieved. She felt renewed all of a sudden, as if every mistake she had made previously was about to be washed away, her record of setbacks expunged. Now she was eager to prove herself. She turned onto O’Malley Street, heading toward the Route 44 ramp, leaving Harristown. As the light changed to red, she came to a stop at the intersection of Ryerson, just blocks from the ramp. She spotted a couple her age, striding along a building front, fingers interlocked, smiling as if they had just met and were crazy in love. Deep inside Jessica longed for that feeling but the first order of business was to take step one—and this was it. She smiled at the couple and drove up the ramp.

  Jessica merged onto Route 44 and veered into the center lane. Cars and trucks sped past her, some of them beeping at her for driving under the speed limit. Even though the roads were no longer slick she took her time. After all, this was her first day at a new job and she would be employed by someone who knew her well; making a first impression weighed heavily on her mind. No reason to push it, she thought. From behind her, an eighteen-wheeler was approaching fast. As it closed the gap between them a car was passing on the left and was keeping pace with her. The truck behind her was closer now. In her rearview mirror she could see that the driver was slapping the steering wheel, apparently growing impatient; but the right lane was empty and he could easily go around her. He honked his horn a few times, and, on the last pull, held it down for about ten seconds, the sound loud and obnoxious. His antics forced Jessica to move over, if only to prevent her from getting upset first thing in the morning. She was not interested in contending with the frustrated truck driver any longer so she decided to switch lanes and get out of his way completely. Once the eighteen-wheeler passed her, she noticed someone in the passenger seat, who extended a hand out the window and waved, thanking her for changing lanes. Jessica shook her head, mumbled, “Yeah, whatever, jerk,” and the trucker honked again. Whether it was done in appreciation or to annoy her she did not know—or care for that matter.

  Ahead, about a few hundred feet, was a traffic sign indicating that her exit, the Milestown Business District, was only a half mile farther. She put on her directional. Only seconds later the truck changed lanes again, returning to the slow lane in front of her, signaling to exit right at the rest stop—the exit before hers. It started weaving toward the rest stop lane, when, suddenly, a large piece of ice (about the size of a garbage can lid) slid from the top of the truck’s storage unit and, at high velocity, struck Jessica’s windshield. On impact the ice shattered, obstructing her view. She panicked and lost control of the vehicle. The moment she let go of the wheel the car took on a life of its own, speeding toward the shoulder where only a guardrail stood between her and a steep cliff—no chance for her to regain control of the car. She speared into the steel rail, ripping it from the frame. Jessica catapulted off the cliff, plunging over fifty feet, colliding with drainage rock at ground level and, on impact, losing consciousness.

  Connor Hartley glanced at the clock. 9:30 am. Where the hell is she? How can she be late on her first day? He got up from his desk and walked through the main office, passing one of his colleagues.

  “Hey, Hartley,” Troy Bennet said. “Where’s the new assistant you were talking about?”

  Hartley shrugged. “Beats the shit out of me. I should’ve known I was gonna get screwed. Her mother begged me to hire her. I did so out of respect for her husband. He was a good man—at least not dishonest like the rest of his family.”

  Jessica’s car was squashed like an accordion. Within minutes, emergency crews
arrived at the scene and hurried to get her out. With the use of crowbars a fireman was able to pry the door open and free her. A paramedic rushed down the embankment with a medical kit in his hand. They placed Jessica on a stretcher and the paramedic checked her pulse. Listening to her heart the paramedic revealed her condition: “She’s gone.”

  Hartley had called Jessica’s apartment and when he got no answer, left a quick message saying, “What’re you waiting for, an engraved invitation?” Now he was calling Jessica’s mother to see if he could find out more.

  Lorraine answered on the second ring.

  “Hi, Mrs. Talbot, this is Connor Hartley. How are things?”

  “Good, Mr. Hartley. How’s Jessica working out?”

  “Well, that’s exactly why I’m calling.”

  “Oh?” Lorraine replied.

  Irritation sharpened Hartley’s tone. “She never showed this morning and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t terribly disappointed and, quite frankly, a little peeved.”

  “I understand, Mr. Hartley. You have every right to be annoyed. But I assure you—”

  Hartley interjected. “You assure what, Mrs. Talbot? I went out on a limb for your dead-beat daughter. I have a board of directors that I answer to, and now I have to tell them their senior partner hired an irresponsible slacker despite his better judgment.”

  Lorraine tried to fight her emotions. “Please, Mr. Hartley, let me find out why she didn’t go to work. We’ve talked a few times recently and I’m convinced that she was turning her life around. You must believe me, once I find out her version of what happened I’ll—”

  The phone clicked. “One moment, Mr. Hartley. That’s my call-waiting. That’s probably Jessica trying to reach me. Hold on just a moment.”

  Connor Hartley huffed. “Very well, Mrs. Talbot. I can’t wait to hear this excuse.”

  TRUTH HURTS

  The Saturday after Thanksgiving: Attempting to hide his sullen face from his wife, Katherine, Dan Witherspoon leaned against the living room wall and shielded the sides of his face with his hands. Impatience showing on her visage, Katherine was gazing out the window beside him at the unpredicted snowfall that had coated the branches of a pine tree; a wind-stressed limb was scraping the glass and smearing snow from top to bottom. Dan, who had just come in from working the late shift, had chunks of snow on his work boots. As they melted off and saturated the carpet, Katherine huffed, and with a shaky hand pushed wisps of hair away from her eyes. “How much longer can you act like this, Danny? I’d expect this behavior from a child… not from you.”

  Dan sniveled, then stepped away from the wall and faced her. “This isn’t easy for me, Kath…so back off!”

  Katherine gave him a dirty look and brought a hand to her hip. “I will not back off. Your son’s gonna hear this. Keep your darn voice down or—”

  In the hall leading to the bedrooms, their ten-year-old son, Will, was walking toward them, rubbing his eyes and trying to put on his glasses. Hearing his footfalls, Katherine turned toward him, smiling. Then she quickly glanced back at Dan and muttered, “Told ya.”

  She went to her son. “What’re you doing up, Will? It’s late.”

  Young Will looked up at his mother, his glasses fastened crookedly on his face, his curly blond hair messy. “I heard noise, couldn’t get back to bed,” he said, his voice gravelly.

  “It was just the TV.” But the television wasn’t on. Fortunately, Will didn’t notice that. Dan was trying to suppress his troubles in the presence of his son. He wiped his face and dried his sweaty hands on his pants. Katherine was biting her bottom lip, her fists clenched into balls of fury. Dan’s childish behavior had awakened her son and she wasn’t about to hide her disgust.

  Dan took a few feeble steps toward Will and feigned a smile, enough to placate his wife and keep his son at ease. With her upraised hand, Katherine signaled for him to stop. Will got a peek at his father’s face, the soft light of a nearby lamp captured his expression, one that little William had never seen before. “What’s wrong, Daddy?”

  Katherine shook her head. She placed her hand on Will’s shoulder, attempting to nudge him along. “Just get back in bed, Will, and I’ll—”

  Will slipped away from his mother’s grip. “I’m going, okay? What’s a matter with Dad? Tell me, Ma.”

  “He’s fine, son, now you go—”

  As Dan Witherspoon shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, he scowled at his wife. “I think I can speak for myself, you—” Although he came close to uttering a vulgarity, he smothered the urge. In that moment he had the inclination to say much more to her, but he refrained. Katherine gave him a long, penetrating stare, a vexed expression. Dan held his ground, staring right back at her with determination in his eyes. Katherine tried again to goad her son back to his bedroom—it didn’t work.

  Dan chose his words carefully, his voice a monotone. His frustration with present circumstances was rising to the surface. “I… lost my job, little Will.” His confession hovered in the room like the stale scent of a basement on a summer day. Katherine wanted to react harshly to his comment. She didn’t care for the look on his face either, and she hated even more the way he had just told his son about what had happened at work. Weren’t they supposed to shield their boy from these adult matters? But confronting him now, in the heat of the moment, would create a spectacle in front of Will, and she wouldn’t dare make that mistake. Instead, she stood seething in the center of the room, taking deep breaths to ward off retaliation. Behind her, Will noticed stacks of elegantly wrapped presents in multi-colored foil glittering under the glow of the Christmas tree.

  “What happened, Daddy?” Will asked.

  “Will, I was—”

  Katherine mouthed the word no, although she knew Dan would ignore her.

  “Well, son, you know I’d never lie to you, right?”

  “’Course not, Daddy.”

  “That’s good,” Dan said. “’Cause I know you’d never lie to me either, right, pal?”

  Wiping his runny nose, Will nodded.

  “Factory closed down today, little man, and Daddy’s just upset.”

  “We’ll be okay, though, right Dad?”

  Infuriated that Dan was dumping their problems on a child, Katherine grunted through her teeth, “Don’t.”

  Dan paid no attention to her. He paused for a few seconds, gathered his words, and then winked. “You bet, Will. Don’t you worry ’bout nothin.’”

  Katherine was becoming angrier by the second. She kept running her hands through her hair and staring at the floor, her eyes darted wildly. Young Will walked up to his father and hugged him, his head barely reaching his dad’s stomach. “Are you and Mom gonna give back my remote- controlled car to the store?”

  Dan stiffened. Katherine’s eyes gaped. Dan tried to speak but his mouth—his breath—wouldn’t cooperate. Katherine was fighting back tears. “What… car, Will?”

  “The one you put in the hallway closet.”

  Dan replied quickly. “What? What’re you talking about?”

  “I saw the car, Dad, the one I put on my list to Santa.”

  Dan stroked his chin with his fingers. “How do you know about the car being in the closet, Will?”

  Silence pervaded the room. Will looked down at the floor and nervously rubbed his sock-covered foot back and forth on the carpet. Dan took his hands out of his pockets and crossed them in front of him, as if he were a bouncer trying to intimidate an unruly drunk. “Let’s have it, Will, the truth.”

  “Mom wrapped it…put it in the closet…she thought I was sleeping but I saw.”

  “No, that…that’s not true,” Dan said. The confident tone of his voice had begun dwindling. “San…Santa drop-ped that off for you the other day.”

  Will was more awake now, suddenly and unexpectedly loquacious. “Really? Is that true, Dad? Santa came all the way from the North Pole just to bring that? That was him I saw…not Mom?”

  Katherine was stunned by her son�
��s observations, and mad at herself for not being more careful when storing the gifts. In response to Will’s question, Dan nodded, his face reddened. He felt as though this moment was spiraling out of control yet he was powerless to stop it. He prayed his son’s questions would end soon. They didn’t. Will was a curious kid who always wanted answers.

  “Dad,” Will asked, “did Santa drive your car too?”

  Peeved, Katherine struggled to catch her breath. She sat on the couch, her hands entwined with Will’s. Her eyes met Dan’s, and she hoped he would provide all the right answers. He had gotten them into this mess and he would have to get them out, no matter how difficult or touchy the situation was.

  “Well, little man, I don’t know what you mean, but Santa read your list and came by when you were at school one day. I told you he was always watching and listening. You’re a good boy, and he rewards nice children.”

  Will stood silent for a few moments, looking back and forth at his parents. “I saw you pull my toy out of the trunk, Dad. I was in my room. I looked out the window and saw you. I didn’t see Santa Claus. And I—”

  Dan tried to prevent matters from getting worse.

  “Sometimes Santa needs help. He can’t do it all alone. A special toy like yours is very delicate, Will.”

  “Daddy, do you remember what happened in my bed-room?”

  Will’s abrupt shift of the conversation baffled him. “No… what?”

  “That thing with the boogeyman.”

  “Well…uh… yeah, of course I do.” The questions had exacerbated Dan’s state of mind. “Why don’t you go get some sleep, all right? Your mom and I need to talk about some grown-up stuff. Now go.”

  “But I want to know about the boogeyman.”

  Dan didn’t know how to defuse the situation. Looking over at Katherine made him feel the agony of his failed parenting skills and one of the many flaws in his manhood: she had her face cupped in her hands, and she hadn’t made a noise or said a word for the last few minutes. Lost in the clutches of an overpowering state of confusion, Dan scratched his head and rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “What about the boogeyman?”