Listen for the Lie

by Amy Tintera

Monday morning, I run extra miles on the treadmill in the gym at Nathan’s complex, and then head to the grocery store because I need to tell my feelings to chocolate. Lots of chocolate.

Another article described Ben as having “boyish good looks,” which had only made me hate him more. I’ve never liked men who can be described as having boyish good looks. They’re always smug.

An insult doesn’t have the intended impact when spelled incorrectly.

Norma: And don’t go to the bar on Franklin, that’s where all the tourists go to get sloppy. A bachelorette party was throwing around penis confetti last time I was there, if you can believe that. I was finding penises in my hair for hours.

And Lucy and Savvy … they had one of those intense, obsession-like friendships, you know? Ben: I don’t. Nina: I guess it’s mostly women who do it. But sometimes you meet a girl who is just, like, your soulmate. Not in a romantic way, but in a friend way. Which can almost be more intense. You could tell that Savvy and Lucy were in one of those intense friend-soulmate relationships.

People believe men. Especially men who look like that. If he says you didn’t do it—if he even casts enough doubt—people will actually believe him.

I probably shouldn’t say this, but, oh well. We all used to joke about Lucy being Matt’s first wife. We always knew a second would be coming. Ben: Because they were young, or something else? Stephanie: Because they were young, for sure. At that age, it seems fun to have someone who is your opposite. Later, you realize that it’s

exhausting. You want someone who brings peace to your life, not someone you’re always at odds with. Matt and Lucy were at odds.

I was supposed to get married and stay

married, so my husband could protect me. I needed to be transferred straight from father to husband, or something terrible might happen to me.”

“My life vastly improved once both those men were gone. Men don’t protect us, not really. They only protect themselves, or each other. The only thing ...

She was a real no-nonsense girl. Just didn’t have time for any shit, you know? I’ve always admired that about her. I was so concerned with whether or not everyone liked me at that age. And people hate that quality in a young woman, don’t they? They don’t know what to do with a girl who isn’t looking for their approval. They feel like they have to bring her down a peg.

Some men, they’ve got to put on a show when they’re around women. It’s like they don’t actually know how to talk to us, so they choose over-the-top chivalry. “If I pull out her chair and make a big show of talking about how moms are heroes and women are actually the strong ones, they won’t notice that I don’t have any interest in listening to a single word that comes out of their mouths.”

I was the same way when I was her age. Stars in my eyes. Thinking about my pretty white dress and the chubby little babies who would look up at me adoringly. In the end, life is just sweatpants and children who resent you and all your choices. But no one wants to hear that.

People don’t believe women who fight back. When a man lashes out, people say he’s lost control of his temper or made a terrible mistake. When a woman does it, she’s a psychopath.

How do you believe that man over your child? How did Matt believe Emmett over his own wife? Ben: It does seem strange. Beverly: Well, not strange, exactly. Typical. Men always believe each other.

Still, it’s weird, isn’t it? Shouldn’t Matt have questioned Emmett’s version more, given how injured you were? Lucy: Sure, he should have. But Emmett actually had a whole plausible story and I had nothing. Matt, like most men I’ve known, is always more inclined to believe the guy’s version of events.

“You don’t owe anyone your whole story.

What true crime podcasts, TV, or movies did you consume while working on the book? I listened to Serial for a second time before I started writing, because, like a lot of people, the investigation into the murder of Hae Min Lee was my first true crime podcast. Season one of Up and Vanished, about the disappearance of Tara Grinstead, was also a big one for me—I had just started forming the character of Ben, and listening to that podcast helped me start to home in on the voice and style. To Live and Die in L.A., investigating the murder of Adea Shabani, had just aired as I was writing the first draft, and I found that one incredibly helpful as well. I also watched both seasons of Fleabag for the first time right before I started seriously working on the book, which was excellent timing, because I knew immediately that I wanted to strike a similar tone. I’d hoped to find a balance between a serious mystery and a black comedy, which seemed like a huge challenge. But the way Fleabag was so effortlessly hilarious while dealing with grief and a doomed romance was very inspiring.