“Yeah, sure. I would lie to save my family.”
“What kind of a situation would require you to do something like that?”
“I don’t know. If they were in trouble with the law or something.”
“Is that very likely?”
“No. White collar, maybe. But they’re far more plausible victims. Ransom-paying types.”
“I see.”
“Though my sister ran away about ten years ago, so who knows. Maybe she was fleeing the scene of a crime. Or just, you know. My parents.”
He says it as though he expects her to laugh, but something makes her feel sorry for him. His hand rests easily on the gearshift, and she closes her eyes.
“I’ve always thought, not that this will make you feel any better, but I really think nobody leaves unless it’s really, really for the best.”
He waits, he watches the road. He does not rush her. Is it strange to feel so comfortable?Does he know that tone in a man’s voice?
“My dad,” she adds. “Every day he stuck around was a living hell. You never knew what you were going to come home to.”
He only hit her twice. Once when she returned late from Angie’s house. Another time when he had just come out of the shower. Barefoot, towel dripping. Some vocal exercises just out of her mouth. Me-may-mah-mo-moo.Can we not have a moment of quiet in this fucking house?Most of the time it wasn’t physical. Most of the time he loved to see her act. She could always hear his laugh from the audience, a loud barrel roll, like he wanted her to know he was watching. But it could turn on a knife’s edge. If you weren’t listening to him. If he felt insulted.
“Well, one thing you should know about me is I’m predictable as sin.” Al smiles. Refuses to look at her with pity. “Your mom still around?”
“Barely.”
“Is she not well?”
It has been several years since she spoke about her mother in the present tense. Someone capable of acting and reacting. Of opinion, of argument. “She’s glazed as Jell-O,” she explains. “She only ever talks about things that happened decades ago. There is no point trying to get her to see you. And I’m here trying to keep my sister organized and our whole weird ship afloat, which—to be honest—isn’t my strong suit. So be careful what you wish for, if you want a family who needs you.”
“So, you wouldn’t lie for them.”
“I guess it would depend what the lie is.”
“How so?”
“Well, there are just certain things that I would never lie about.”
“Like what?”
“Like… something fundamental about myself…” She presses her lips together, desperate to say something clever. It disturbs her slightly that she can’t think of anything she wouldn’t be willing to change. But adaptability is freedom, isn’t it? “Or something I cared about,” she offers. “Like… human rights?”
“Well, I find that surprising, considering you’re paid to lie.”
“Acting isn’t lying.”
“Well, what’s the difference?”
“Well, good acting is all about being sincere. Emotionally.”
“Sincere even when you’re not being honest.”
“You’re getting too hung up on this honesty thing. Everyone knows it’s a character. Obviously, I wasn’t actually born in, like, the seventeen hundreds.”
“Sixteen hundreds.”
“That’s what I meant.”
