The Liar

That Morning

The morning light crept in through the windows. Still half asleep, he pulled me towards to him. I nestled myself tightly against his chest and looked up towards him.

"Will you miss me?" I asked, my eyes a bit swollen with tears.

"Of course I will miss you, my love," he said, his voice strained with emphatic emotion.

"And you won't forget about me?"

His brow furrowed.

"Never! Not ever, do you understand? I will be back so soon." he was starting to sound distressed. I buried my cheek in his arm. 

"Ok." I said, as my lower lip quivered ever so slightly, "I will miss you".

I was lying of course.

I had been waiting for this day for 9 months. It was bad before that, but that was the defining moment. Truth be told, it was a really a gradual series of events: a harsh word here, a drunken outburst there, and his slow, subtle isolation of me from my family and friends. The whole thing culminated in a hard slap to my right cheek that woke me up to the monster that had snuck his way into my bed. As I sat there with my right cheek stinging and my heart filled with rage, I knew I had to leave this prison that had constructed itself around me.

It wasn't easy. He was easily the most talented manipulator I had ever met. At times it even felt as if my thoughts weren't private, for he was so skilled at reading them. There was a moment prior to that 9 month mark where the thought of leaving him briefly slipped into my mind. There was no possible way he could have known what I was thinking, yet he glanced at me sharply and murmored, "You're thinking of leaving me". That moment sent chills down my spine.

The truth is I was a bit frightened of him. His ability to read my thoughts and his unpredictable violence made me realize I had to carefully consider my exit. Every year he left the country on business for a month. I knew my best chance was to convince him to feel comfortable enough to leave me behind. I had to make him think I was head over heels in love with him. It wasn't enough to pretend. He would see right through that. I had to make myself believe it as well.

For 9 months I felt the core of myself fracture into two pieces. In one piece I was in deeply love with this passionate, charming man. I dove so far into the depths of the deception, that piece of me truly lived and felt that love. She had to, or he would know. The other piece of me boiled in ever growing hatred, burning under the pressure of concealment. There's no telling how much damage it did to my insides. 9 months is along time to live that way. Nevertheless, today was the day, and my freedom was at hand.

At the airport, I cried. He thought I was crying for the month we would spend apart. Why shouldn't he? My tears were real, as real as tears could get. They rolled down my face and over my lips, dripping miserably off my chin. My sobs were like little gasps for air. But I wasn't crying for him. I was crying for myself. My eyes were oozing droplets of self pity for every miserable second that I endured with him. I wept for all the times I held my anger during his disgusting drunken outbursts. I wept for every smile I faked and every time my lying mouth uttered  "I love you". I nearly vomited from the bitter taste those words left in my mouth. They were like a swirl of buttercream frosting over a mound of fuming excrement. We embraced some more and I continued to cry. I could see the tears well up in his eyes.

"I love you" he said. "I will call you as soon as I land."

"I love you too" I sobbed. I let go of him, and waved as he headed a safe distance away and past security.  I turned around and began walking towards the exit. I was not even 10 feet away before the tears began to dry and a smile crept across the corners of my mouth, my first true smile in almost a year. I even let out a slight chuckle as I breathed the free air.
I wanted to dance my way out of the airport.

He called after he landed. I told him all his belongings were in 4 trash bags on his friends lawn. He cried and lamented that I had blindsided him. I tried not to feel smug at my achievement. I hung up and changed my number. The final shackle was off.