The Truth

This wasn't his first time seeing me cry.

Traffic noise wasn't the best backdrop to a confessional, but the rain did help a little. He didn't seem to care either way; his eyes were locked on me. 

"Tell me the truth, babe," he said calmly. "Tell me how I can help."

Help? for an impossible situation? a hole I've been digging for myself for my entire life?

"No, it's fine, I just needa get through the week!" I chimed, but neither of us were convinced. This was my third breakdown in a week, and I had to keep him completely in the dark for his own safety. It was a dangerous dance, and for the first time I didn't know if I could keep up.

The hardest part was that I didn't know what truth to tell him--the lies I told to his face, or the ones I hid from him? the lies I needed to keep the peace, or the ones that got me in this mess in the first place? My mission objective was too complex--I couldn't juggle all these covers. My deadline was fast approaching, and I needed time I didn't have.

But the less he knows the safer, so I resorted to my favorite lie:

"I know there's a lot going on, but I love you, and we're gonna see this through together."