LIBBY’S THROAT burned before she even opened her eyes the next morning. From the heaviness in her chest and the ache in her joints, she knew it was bad. Could her grandmother have been right all these years? Could she really catch a cold by getting stuck in the rain?
Pain flooded her sensitive skin as Libby turned over in bed and reached for the phone on her nightstand. After texting Taylor and letting her know there was no way she’d be in the o ce, Libby stared up at her ceiling.
This is exactly what you deserve. The universe seeks balance and now its neutralizing you before you can make any more of a mess.
Fo
rced to stop running from herself, Libby took as deep a breath as she could before coughing. Using a trick she hadn’t in years, she closed her eyes and imagined herself sitting in a chair in a corner of the room. With the imaginary distance, Libby took a good look at herself and imagined what she would say to a friend in the exact same situation.
Why are you so miserable?
The answer was simple yet insurmountable in its breadth and weight. Because I’ve been lying. Since that day so many years ago that Davis told me he didn’t really see himself as the marrying type, I’ve been lying. Everything I’ve done since then
has been to propagate the illusion of who I’m supposed to be.
What I’m supposed to have.
Truth, as they say, hurts. The brutality of regret and lost time ravaged Libby’s already tight chest. She didn’t let herself cry. Not yet. It was a release she’d have to win after she’d faced it all.
What would she tell her best friend to do? If this was Zena confessing her mess, how would she help?
Unravel the lie. It only holds the power you allow it to hold.
Come clean and purge. This misery festers in the dark, but it can’t survive in the light of day.
Another simple fact, yet the thought of confession made Libby want to retch. If she wasn’t so fatigued, she might consider crawling to the bathroom. But she couldn’t even seek refuge there.
Where would I even start? she wondered, tears stinging her closed eyes.
At the beginning.
Of course.
Opening an app on her phone, Libby started dictating her next blog post. If there was going to be a reckoning, then she was going to drive it herself.
“I am a liar. It’s not something I ever expected to be. And like most things that come to define us, it crept inside me so slowly I barely noticed it until I’d managed to construct my entire life out of delusion. Like all great liars, I was the main target of my own deceit. At least at first.”
Libby shifted to her side and let the tears flow freely, knowing her notes wouldn’t make very much sense when she edited the essay later, but it didn’t matter. This was truly a purge and all of it had to come out. Even if it was an ugly wreck.
After reaching back into her memory, Libby found the beginning. “The first lie I told myself was that he loved me.
Scratch that. The first lie was that I loved him. My memory is a little hazy, and I can’t quite pinpoint the exact moment, but there must have been. There must have been a singular moment in time when I decided to convince myself that a partner who was mediocre at best was the person I needed to spend my life with. The person I deserved.”
Pressing her palm against her chest, Libby wished she could massage the pain away. When she realized she couldn’t, she let herself grieve for the precious years she’d wasted and the damage she allowed.
“With that big lie out of the way, the ones that followed were easier and easier. I convinced myself that couples should be independent when he didn’t share any of my interests or make even the slightest e ort to do something just because I wanted to. When I went to the theater alone, and dinner alone, and events alone, I held us out as the picture of modern, adult love. We were secure in our relationship and didn’t need to be best friends.”
Shame tried to grab her by the throat and silence her, but Libby couldn’t stop now. It was a poison in her veins, and she needed to slice herself open to let it seep out.
“When he left his job as a lawyer to focus on his band full time without consulting me, I outwardly praised him for the bravery of following his dreams. I wrote about how partners needed to support each other’s goals and lift each other up toward true purpose. Meanwhile, I was paying all the bills and begging him not to stay out all night when I had to be up early. It probably goes without saying that I lied about liking his music.”
Regret tangled in Libby’s guts and forced her into a coughing fit. “And then there was the lie that broke me. The engagement ring I bought myself and held out to the world as a sign of our commitment. Pretending I was still engaged
long after he left me was less painful than the nights I laid next to him struggling to remain silent while I cried.”
The truth burned as the humiliation slapped her hard.
“For nearly a year, I lied every single time I put the ring on and walked out my door. Every day I pretended to be perfect.