First Lie Wins

by Ashley Elston

It’s the small touches a woman brings to a man’s home, like the matching throw pillows on the couch or the faint whiff of jasmine from the diffuser on the bookshelf, that every other woman notices the second she walks through the front door.

Like birds of prey, they will pick, pick, pick all night until they get the answers they want.

I envy the gracefulness that comes with knowing that everyone in this town has seen them at their worst and still accepts them.

There’s an old saying: The first lie wins. It’s not referring to the little white kind that tumble out with no thought; it refers to the big one. The one that changes the game. The one that is deliberate. The lie that sets the stage for everything that comes after it. And once the lie is told, it’s what most people believe to be true. The first lie has to be the strongest. The most important. The one that has to be told.

She’s picking apart my story, looking for the truth behind my words. And from my research, she’s good at what she does. Something isn’t sitting right with her, and she’s trying to decide if digging into my background is worth the possibility of losing Ryan’s friendship. Rachel is one I’ll need to watch a little closer.

This is not good. This is not good. This is not good. She is not from Eden, North Carolina—I am. Her mother didn’t die from breast cancer—Mine did. Her name is not Lucca Marino—Mine is.

It’s been said that if you want a slice of time to stick out, to be crystal clear in your mind, one small difference in an otherwise normal routine is all it takes.

The way you walk, the way you talk, the way you move your body screams more about you than anything else ever could.

Mama always said to be successful in life you need to do three things: learn everything you can, try your hardest, and be the best at what you do.