Living A Lie

“What’s wrong with my life?” Zella complains to Chris as they enjoy dinner at their favorite Italian restaurant. “Any direction I turn, blockades push me in another direction.”

Staring at her, asking his brain, ‘should I tell her the truth?’ ‘Or be like Satan?’ Before his brain could respond, his tongue challenged, “Are all directions the same?”

“Does it matter?” she quests with furled brows, her fork pointed at him.

“Yes, it does,” Chris said, sipping red wine.

“Why?” she demands.

“Just answer the damn question?” he snapped at her putting his glass on the table.

Unconsciously easing her upper body backward, glaring at him in frustrated curiosity, sliding back into the maze of her life, she notified, “Damn! Yes. It’s always the same direction.”

“That means your life is sitting on a lie.”

Chris felt himself falling and his right cheek on fire. He blinks quickly, massaging his cheek, realizing he is on the ground. Looking up at Zella, she glared at him with fire in her eyes, then screamed, “If you ever come near me again, I will hurt you!” marching out of the restaurant.

“Damn,” he said, sitting up as several waiters rushed over to assist him. “The truth hurts.” His hand was on his right cheek as two male waiters pulled him off the floor.

One of the waiters jokes, “the truth usually hurts the one who refuse to accept it. Not the ones who tells it.”

“Most women can’t handle the truth,” the other waiter said, returning the chair where it was.

Exercising his jaw, Chris remarked, “You might be right.”

Ten days later, his doorbell chimed. Checking his doorbell camera on his cell phone, he saw Zella at his door. Her eyes were red. She had been crying.

“Damn!” slid out of his thoughts. “The truth is out.”

“It’s open,” he said through his phone after opening the door for her.

She rushed in, dropping her expensive leather bag on the rug, then sat down on the sofa beside him, crying, “Oh Chris, you were right.”

Massaging his right cheek, he asked, “About what?” hugging her.

“Don’t pretend boy. I am not in the best mood right now,” she eased away from him, circling the small living room.

“You mean I was telling the truth?”

She sighed, her back to him, then confessed, “I am from a poor background.”

“I know,” he said.

“What!” she yelled, swinging around to face him.

Subconsciously Chris eased away further to the other end of the sofa.

“You knew?” she glared at him.

“Of course. You overdo everything.”

“Really?” she asked, her eyes boring into his.

“Zell,” he said, reaching out to her, then pulling her beside him on the sofa, “the life you are living for the five years we have been friends isn’t how the rich lives. You live a life as if you were compensating for everything you didn’t have but wanted as a child. Girl your four closets in your two bedroom apartment is pack with clothes and shoes you haven’t worn yet and is no longer in style.”

Pulling away from him, she defends, “I must look good.”

“You are paying rent for a two-bedroom apartment. No one visits you or sleeps in the other bedroom,” he refreshes her memory.”

“That’s how I want to live,” she continued her defense.

“The rich don’t have to overdo anything. They hire people to do that.”

She sighed deeply as the tears rolled down and poured some of the pain from her heart, “I grew up in poverty and I hate it. I hate everything. Where I came from. The one room all seven of us live in. My parents for not trying to help themselves more. For everything I have been through because of poverty. I thought if I live as if I am wealthy it would make me feel better.”

“Did it?” Chris questioned.

“No, I am now in debt. I have to get a second job,” she confesses. “How did I get here?”

“You started to believe the lie you are living. Most of us aren’t aware but when we start believing a lie, and then began to live it, we are giving the truth a reason to defend itself.”

Glaring at him in shock, “So that’s why it was pushing me back to where I come from. It was trying to convince me to tell and live the truth before the lies destroy me. Oh Chris,” she wails. “I am in so much debt I have to sell my car and most of my stuff and move to a cheaper and smaller apartment.”

“Now that you have the truth on your side, how do you plan to use it?”

Nodding, she shares, “I intend to follow the direction the truth wanted me to go and I think it’s back to my roots.”

Chris smiled, hugged her, and congratulated her, “I am proud of you.

“Thank you boy. You are a good friend,” she compliments, easing away in deep thought.

Silence played a tune briefly, and she inquired, “Chris, why did you wait so long to tell me the truth?”

With a smile, he enlightened, clasping his hands with hers, “my grandmother believes that the right words, at the right time is nourishment for the body, mind and soul.”

With a smile, she agrees, “She is right.”

Many of us are living a lie, we tell ourselves, unaware that when we start believing the lies and start living it, we are allowing the truth to defend itself at a cost to us. The truth, like water, will find a way in or out!

Thank you for reading this piece. I hope you enjoyed it.