You would think being called a liar wouldn't mean much. Well that's because it doesn't. A liar is just another name like butt munch or big head. But the difference is the word liar means something to me.
My mother called my sperm donor a liar everyday. Some jokingly and sometimes seriously. But in each case she ment what she said. She believed he was being insincere about something, hiding something. But because she had no proof to back up her accusation, Douche would brush it off.
She was driving herself insane trying to find something to pin on him. People said she was just trying to find a way out of the relationship. That she was the one whoring around that she had a grudge on Douche. But I don't believe that shit she was madly in love with my god foresaken ass of a Douche. You could clearly see it in her face when it crumbled every time he walked out that door.
Just like it crumbled the day I told her about Douche's cheating ways.
The night of the "accident" we stayed with G-ma, Meme's mom, but we never said why. Because Ev and Douche got into constant fights before the accident, we used that as our alliby. We told Meme that Ev caught Douche in a lie and couldn't stay in that house.
But things changed, a few nights later it started getting harder to hold in the truth. I was barely getting any sleep and the guilt was literally starting to eat away at me. I couldn't stay in the same room as Meme for more than five minutes without hinting on how she was right to call Douche a liar.
One day it just got unbearable. I woke up in a cold sweat, tears streaming down my face and I just couldn't take it anymore. I ran to Meme's room. She was up of course getting ready for work. But that came to a hault as soon as she saw the state I was in. Rushing over to me she held me in her arms and said soothing things, thinking I missed my father. Because, truth is I was always a daddey's girl crying when he wasn't there and making him out to be some god. But I pushed her away and looked straight into her worried filled eyes and broke down.
Sobbing and choking I told her about that night. I explained how she was right and how awful I felt for not telling her. The look she gave me once I finished was nothing close to understanding. She was furious and mad but I could tell her emotions weren't directed at me. Laying me on her chest she rocked me back and forth. And soon my breathing evened out but I was far from sleeping.
Sliding out from under me she grabbed her phone off the nightstand and walked into the bathroom. Calling my sperm donor she spoke only one word.
"Liar," she said breathless like she had been crying but with so much hate and conviction you'd think she was about to go on a rampage.
So yeah liar is just another name. But to me, it's my father's description. He's a goddam liar, and I refused to be in the same category as him. And the fact that he had the audacity to imply that I was lying made it even worse. The word liar shouldn't even be in his vocabulary, unless he's describing himself.
Finishing my twizzler I looked up at Ev, I didn't bother to give a smile. He knows as well as me it'd be fake. Inhaling I relized its about time I let him in.
"I'm not a fuckin liar," I hiccuped exhaling.
Looking down at me Ev's eyes filled with understanding and a hard edge of hate seeped into them. Giving me another cherry twist he hugged me to him and whispered over and over "Never." Holding me in his embrace and chewing on my twizzler I focused on his words and let them sink in. Finally calmed down I looked up at him.
Looking me dead in the eyes he said, "You will never be like him.Your so much better Ange."
I nodded for his benefit and dropped my gaze. You can always say something but that doesn't make it true. I was materialistic and turned a blind eye to the things going on in my house. People told me I was doing the right thing, but that wasn't true.
Giving me my last twizzler he smiled at me and grabbed my iPod off my dock and fiddled with it for a bit before handing me a headphone. Plugging one in my ear and the other in his he blasted Mary J. Blige.She's basically my final stage of recovery.
Yeah, you can always cry and put on a fake smile. But sometimes it gets old trying to always be happy. But listening to Mary is like empathy through music, something you can't always get from a person. Most people do that sympathy shit which just makes that abyss of pain feel that much deeper.