"The truth about the truth: It hurts. So we lie."
The Truth about the Truth
“How is your relationship with your family?”
“Fine,” he responded sheepishly.
Boone’s parents got divorced when he was four, and his determined, merciless mother gained full custody after a vicious, high- profile battle. As he grew up, though, he often wondered why his mother had bothered at all. She worked all day, and then came home only to shut herself in her office, making important phone calls and designing important color schemes late into the night. “Boone, don’t bother me, I’m busy,” she told him one morning when he came into her office to tell her goodbye before going to school. Just like every day. Boone put on a fake smile, and began his walk to school.
“You have a step-sister, correct?”
“Yeah.”
“And how is your relationship with her?”
“Okay,” he shrugged.
“I love you,” a pretty blonde girl sighed, her mascara smeared and her hair mussed and tangled. They were lying in his bed, the summer before senior year, and he was dating Heather, with her bright brown eyes and wavy hair. She wasn’t Shannon, but she looked like her. She could serve as a substitute for the sister who he had been in love with since he was ten. He pulled Heather in for another kiss, and felt her soft lips move against his - full and pink like Shannon’s lips. “I love you, too,” He lied.
“Are you two close?”
“I guess.”
“Would you like to elaborate on that?”
“Not really.”
“I don’t feel good,” Shannon whispered, and he moved his pillow, giving her room to slide into the bed next to him.
“What’s wrong?” He asked her, worried. It was like the only time he meant anything he said was with her.
“I dunno, I guess I’m just upset that you’re moving all the way to New York. Why can’t you just go to USC or somewhere close?”
“I need a change,” he told her. I need to get away from you, he thought. He couldn’t control himself around her.
“How do you feel about your father’s death?”
“I didn’t know him.”
“I know, but how do you feel?”
“Fine,” he said bitingly.
He didn’t go to his father’s funeral. He hadn’t seen him since he was ten, and his mother hadn’t bothered to tell him where it was. Instead, she sent him to an eighty-dollar an hour shrink. Like that would help anything. But he agreed, always eager to please him mom. Besides, Shan had been going to a shrink since she was fifteen. At her father’s expense, of course. Now, Boone sat, stubbornly staring at the overweight, droopy-eyed psychiatrist. She looked like she needed counseling herself.
“I don’t know why I’m here,” he told her.
“Your mother thought it would be a good idea. Maybe you need to get something off your chest.”
His mother didn’t know shit, that was for damn sure. She didn’t know how guilty he felt about being responsible for his nanny’s death so many years ago, he didn’t know how he felt about his sister… when he thought about it, she didn’t know anything about him. She probably didn’t even know what his favorite color was.
“I don’t need to get anything off my chest.”
“I think you’re lying, Boone. I don’t know you well, but I think you’re in deep denial, which can lead to depression in the long run.”
I’m in love with my sister, he wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her how he watched the way she acted with other boys, imagining himself in their position, how he thought about kissing her late at night, how he bit his lip when he came to prevent himself from yelling her name. He wanted to tell the shrink how his biggest dream was to be with Shannon forever, to get married and have kids and live in a big house with a white picket fence… the only thing he wanted in life was her.
“There’s nothing I want to tell you.”
“Okay. Well, that concludes our session.”
“Thanks.”
Boone lay on a makeshift stretcher, everything blurred around him, and all he heard was unintelligible voices yelling and talking around him. He was going to die, and he knew it. “Tell Shannon…” he started. He was done lying.
I hope you liked it, sorry if it is a little choppy. Please comment!
“How is your relationship with your family?”
“Fine,” he responded sheepishly.
Boone’s parents got divorced when he was four, and his determined, merciless mother gained full custody after a vicious, high- profile battle. As he grew up, though, he often wondered why his mother had bothered at all. She worked all day, and then came home only to shut herself in her office, making important phone calls and designing important color schemes late into the night. “Boone, don’t bother me, I’m busy,” she told him one morning when he came into her office to tell her goodbye before going to school. Just like every day. Boone put on a fake smile, and began his walk to school.
“You have a step-sister, correct?”
“Yeah.”
“And how is your relationship with her?”
“Okay,” he shrugged.
“I love you,” a pretty blonde girl sighed, her mascara smeared and her hair mussed and tangled. They were lying in his bed, the summer before senior year, and he was dating Heather, with her bright brown eyes and wavy hair. She wasn’t Shannon, but she looked like her. She could serve as a substitute for the sister who he had been in love with since he was ten. He pulled Heather in for another kiss, and felt her soft lips move against his - full and pink like Shannon’s lips. “I love you, too,” He lied.
“Are you two close?”
“I guess.”
“Would you like to elaborate on that?”
“Not really.”
“I don’t feel good,” Shannon whispered, and he moved his pillow, giving her room to slide into the bed next to him.
“What’s wrong?” He asked her, worried. It was like the only time he meant anything he said was with her.
“I dunno, I guess I’m just upset that you’re moving all the way to New York. Why can’t you just go to USC or somewhere close?”
“I need a change,” he told her. I need to get away from you, he thought. He couldn’t control himself around her.
“How do you feel about your father’s death?”
“I didn’t know him.”
“I know, but how do you feel?”
“Fine,” he said bitingly.
He didn’t go to his father’s funeral. He hadn’t seen him since he was ten, and his mother hadn’t bothered to tell him where it was. Instead, she sent him to an eighty-dollar an hour shrink. Like that would help anything. But he agreed, always eager to please him mom. Besides, Shan had been going to a shrink since she was fifteen. At her father’s expense, of course. Now, Boone sat, stubbornly staring at the overweight, droopy-eyed psychiatrist. She looked like she needed counseling herself.
“I don’t know why I’m here,” he told her.
“Your mother thought it would be a good idea. Maybe you need to get something off your chest.”
His mother didn’t know shit, that was for damn sure. She didn’t know how guilty he felt about being responsible for his nanny’s death so many years ago, he didn’t know how he felt about his sister… when he thought about it, she didn’t know anything about him. She probably didn’t even know what his favorite color was.
“I don’t need to get anything off my chest.”
“I think you’re lying, Boone. I don’t know you well, but I think you’re in deep denial, which can lead to depression in the long run.”
I’m in love with my sister, he wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her how he watched the way she acted with other boys, imagining himself in their position, how he thought about kissing her late at night, how he bit his lip when he came to prevent himself from yelling her name. He wanted to tell the shrink how his biggest dream was to be with Shannon forever, to get married and have kids and live in a big house with a white picket fence… the only thing he wanted in life was her.
“There’s nothing I want to tell you.”
“Okay. Well, that concludes our session.”
“Thanks.”
Boone lay on a makeshift stretcher, everything blurred around him, and all he heard was unintelligible voices yelling and talking around him. He was going to die, and he knew it. “Tell Shannon…” he started. He was done lying.
I hope you liked it, sorry if it is a little choppy. Please comment!