Kody Keplinger - Lying Out Loud

“You’ve got to talk to me eventually,” I said one Saturday as she brushed past me, heading out of the kitchen. I’d had enough of the silent treatment.

When Amy didn’t look back, I followed her.

“Come on, Amy,” I said. “I know you’re pissed, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied. How many times do I have to apologize?”

She stopped at the foot of the stairs and turned to face me. That same dark glint I’d seen the day she outed me to Ryder was there. That rare spark of anger.

“How many times?” Amy asked. “I don’t know, Sonny. You’ve apologized a lot in the past. But I’m starting to think that words don’t mean anything to you, because you always just go and do something worse.”

She wasn’t wrong. I’d apologized for making her flirt with that guy on Black Friday. I’d apologized for the texts to Ryder. I’d apologized for how long my plan had taken before swearing I’d be honest. But I’d just kept going, making it worse and worse.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, because I had no clue what else I could say. “I mean it. I just got so caught up in everything with Ryder and me…. Amy, we have to work this out. We’re best friends. We’re Sonny and Amy. You mean more to me than anyone.”

“Do I?”

“Of course,” I said.

“Then why do you do this?” she demanded. It was the first time she’d ever raised her voice to me, that calm coolness totally gone. “If I’m so important to you, how can you keep walking all over me?”

“I —”

She shook her head. “Let me talk now. You always do the talking, Sonny. That’s the problem. You never let me speak. I might be a quiet person, but that doesn’t mean you have to speak for me or speak over me.”

“I speak for you because you don’t speak up!” I argued. “That’s what I do. I defend you. I protect you.”

“I never asked you to,” she said. “And that’s definitely not what you’ve been doing lately. None of this had anything to do with helping me. It was to help you. Because when I did speak up, when I told you how I felt in Tennessee, you just walked all over me. Completely disregarded everything I said. How is that defending me?”

“Amy —”

“I’m going to talk over you this time!” she shouted. It was so startling, so un-Amy-like, that I took a step back. “You are so selfish,” she continued. “You say that I’m your best friend, but you used me. You pretended to be me. I can’t understand that.”

“Because everything’s easy for you!” I yelled back. “Amy Rush: beautiful, rich, sweet. A good family. A good future ahead of you. Everything just falls into your fucking lap!”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh, right,” I said. “You’re shy. What a freaking challenge. How hard that must be,” I scoffed. “You don’t even realize how good you have it. Or how hard it is for the rest of us. Guess what, Amy? We’re not going to be roommates in college. Because I never applied anywhere.”

Amy blinked, startled. “What?”

“I’m not going to college,” I said. “If you stopped and thought about it for two seconds, you’d know there’s no way I’m going to Dartmouth or Brown or whatever. I don’t have money. Your parents are paying for my gas right now! I don’t even have a family to sign the damn financial aid forms. You’re going to college, and I have no fucking clue what I’m doing after you leave.”

“So you lied to me about that, too.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I did.”

She shook her head, then turned and walked up the stairs. I followed her.

“That’s it?” I asked. I was riled up now. Amy and I had never been in a fight before. Usually she just got quiet and I waited for her to come around. We’d never yelled at each other. It used to be a point of pride, actually, but now I wanted to yell. I knew I’d regret it later, but at the moment, I wanted to make her hurt as much as I did.

“Yeah,” she said, stopping in her bedroom doorway. “That’s it. I’m done, Sonny. I’m done letting you push me around and use me and …” She let out a long breath. She was calm now. Quiet. “I always knew you were a liar,” she said. “I just never thought you’d lie to me. Guess I was wrong.”

My instinct was to get the last word. That the person who spoke last won the fight. Logical, I know.

But her words hit me harder than anything else she’d said. As it turned out, I didn’t need to make Amy hurt now. I already had.

And before I could come up with anything to say, anything that would make me feel even momentarily victorious, Amy slammed the door in my face.

Our fight went on for another week. Cold shoulders, angry glares, slamming doors. I spent most of my time in the guest room, wallowing in my misery.

More than once, I found myself dialing Ryder’s number, wanting to hear his voice, to get his advice on what to do, to have him make me laugh. Then I’d remember that he hated me, too, and I’d be left even more crushed than I’d been a moment before.

I’d hoped Amy’s parents hadn’t picked up on the tension in the house, but of course they had.

“Sonny,” Mrs. Rush said from outside the bedroom door. “Can we come in a second?”

“Yes,” I said, sitting up. I’d been lying on my back, staring at the ceiling, contemplating how awful my life was. You know, productive stuff. “Come on in.”

Mr. and Mrs. Rush stepped inside, and Mr. Rush shut the door behind him. I knew by the looks on their faces that nothing good was going to come of this.

“We wanted to come in and check on you,” Mrs. Rush said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“We know that things between you and Amy have been … off,” Mr. Rush said.

Understatement of the century.

“Yeah … Um. I’m okay.”

“That’s good,” Mrs. Rush said. “You know we love both you and Amy, and we’re sure you two will work this out eventually.”

I was glad she was, because I wasn’t so sure.

“We don’t know what’s going on between you two,” Mr. Rush said. “You’ve been very quiet on the topic. And that’s your prerogative. We just want you to know that we’re here for you both.”

I could sense the “but” coming.

“We’ve been thinking, though,” Mrs. Rush said. “This has been going on for two weeks, and … maybe the best thing for both of you is to take some time apart. To get some space from each other.”

“Oh.”

I felt the panic beginning to rise. Because I knew what came next. I knew what they were going to say.

And it was the last thing I wanted to hear.

“We’ve been happy to have you here,” Mr. Rush said. “But living together is hard. Even for best friends. So perhaps it’s time for you to go home.”

They insisted on driving me.

I told them I had Gert. I told them I could go alone. I told them not to worry.

But they wouldn’t hear it.

We pulled into the driveway around noon, and even though it was surprisingly sunny for the beginning of March, everything about my house seemed dark and gray. Like it was haunted. Like there was a permanent shadow hanging over it, clinging to the tree branches in the front yard.

“You don’t have to come in,” I said, forcing myself to sound confident. “I can talk to Mom on my own.”

“Is she even here?” Mrs. Rush asked. “There’s no car in the driveway.”

“She’s … she’s probably at work,” I said. “She’ll be home soon. I have my key, so …”

“Why don’t we wait with you,” Mr. Rush said. It wasn’t a question, though. He and Mrs. Rush wasted no time unbuckling their seat belts and getting out of the car.

But I stayed, frozen in the backseat.

No.

No, it couldn’t happen like this.

“Come on, Sonny,” Mrs. Rush said, opening the door next to me. “It’ll be okay. I know it’s probably scary to confront your mom, but that’s why we’re here.”

But that wasn’t what was scaring me.

I climbed out of the car, trying to keep my composure as panic bubbled in my stomach. I fumbled for my key, which had spent months at the bottom of my purse, unused, unwanted. I hesitated before sliding it into the lock.

“I appreciate you coming with me,” I said. “But really, you don’t have to stay. It … it’ll probably be better if I talk to her alone. I can call you after —”

“I think we should be here,” Mr. Rush said. “Based on what you told us before, your mom has a tendency to overreact. If we’re here, maybe she’ll keep a cooler head.”

“We just want to make sure everything’s okay,” Mrs. Rush said, ruffling my hair a little. “Let’s go on inside, Sonny. It’s cold out here.”

My hands were shaking so hard. “You really don’t have to —”

“We know,” Mr. Rush said. “But we want to.”

With both of their eyes on me, I had no other choice but to unlock the front door and let them inside.

The living room was dark, the blinds drawn, and the stale odor of it nearly suffocated me. I shivered in my jacket. It wasn’t much warmer inside. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Mr. and Mrs. Rush glance at each other, and the panic rose up into my throat.

“My mom might be a while,” I said. “She works weird hours.”

“We can wait,” Mr. Rush said, but there was a skeptical tone to his voice. He sat down on the couch, a puff of dust rising around him. He had the grace to pretend he didn’t notice. “Come sit with me. We’ll wait together.”

“Um …” I looked over at Mrs. Rush, who seemed to be scoping out the place, her eyes investigating every corner of the living room. “You know, my mom might not be okay with coming home to find so many people in the house. You don’t know this about her, but she’s really an introvert. This might be too overwhelming and —”