Tell Me Lies

by Carola Lovering

Sometimes you make up your mind about something without knowing why, and your decision persists by the power of inertia. Every year it gets harder to change. —Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

“And with someone worthwhile. You’re gorgeous, Bree. You can afford high standards.”

You have to be careful of girls that are too pretty, though. They hold a power that they never had to earn.

But now that some time had passed, I could tell she was ready to forgive me and get back together. Diana is emotional, and emotional people count on time for fucking everything. It takes time for them to regain their so-called sanity. Diana was always testing me with her so-called needed time, as though time may or may not be enough to save our relationship. It was hypocritical. She always came back. Despite her threatening declarations, she would never have the final call—I made sure of that.

I loved him before I even talked to him, and that’s the only time that has or will ever happen to me—I’m sure of it.

by spring he was telling me he loved me, and I was saying it back, the words meaningless syllables gathering in my mouth.

That is what my relationship with Diana had become: argue, sex, argue, sex, argue, argue, sex, argue. Nothing else in between.

I had her back. I had Diana, just like that, after months of not having her and months of trying. She hadn’t gotten away with ending the relationship on her terms. I felt both glad and strangely disappointed as I let her take my hand and lead me outside. I stared at her utterly familiar face, the pink flower hanging limply from her ear. She appeared less cute and seductive than she had during the beginning of our conversation. It’s funny—when you get what you want, it almost automatically decreases in value.

Why, why, why did he fill up my whole head? My whole body? All the time. To the brim. A person like that. Why? It was over, anyway. Even if I chose to decide that he wasn’t a manipulative jerk, it wasn’t like he was banging down my door with apologies. I hadn’t heard a peep from him. I was beyond pathetic.

One second I’d had him, the next he was gone.

People always talk about realizing they’re in love during the happy moments, but I think you realize it in the bad ones. The ones that knock you off center, scaring you when they prove that no matter what kind of logic is in your head, it’s what’s in your heart that determines fucking everything.

The way she was looking at me, the sadness and lust transparent behind her deep blue irises, her facial muscles practically twitching with want, told me she wasn’t remotely over it, that it mattered a whole fucking lot, that she would take this conversation to bed with her and think about it tomorrow and the next day and the day after that, deciphering its meaning, the way girls do.

I hated how fragile and powerless I felt.

everything inside me hurt so badly that I almost couldn’t breathe, much less defend my decision.

“I know. But if he calls you, if he texts you. He will try to contact you. People like Stephen, they don’t change. He will always come back for more. He won’t give it up until he has to.”

I knew he was going to kiss me, and when he did I felt safe, like a ship coming into its harbor.

there is a difference between liking someone and loving them, and the power in that difference is enough to shape your life.

Whatever Lucy expected from me in her naive perception of our relationship was laughable. I would never give her what she wanted. Didn’t she know that? And why should I? It wasn’t as if Lucy had ever made me feel like my best self; she’d never made me truly happy. And she never would. She was pretty, but sometimes, lately, when I really looked at her, she wasn’t that pretty. I’d let the sex get in the way. Again.

She didn’t know what he was capable of; she didn’t know the extent to which I’d lowered myself for him in the past.

He will always come back for more, Lucy. He won’t give it up until he has to.

Hurting you in some big way. You are killing me. You are destroying the fibers of me.

I hated him. I hated him in a way I hadn’t before. He wanted to hurt me. He lied and lied and he didn’t feel guilt. He was sadistic at his core. I had always known it. I was so, so stupid for thinking that our shared defiance of goodness was strong enough to equal love. There was always good in love. There had to be. But then maybe there wasn’t, and maybe that was the whole problem with the world.

I knew it was over forever this time.

all tragedies are comedies; all comedies are tragedies. All truth is a paradox.

I can see now what I am to him, what I’ve always been to him,

all the Stephen stuff just stopped mattering. I don’t know, it was like, nothing changed except that suddenly I was seeing things differently, and then I just felt stronger and better.”

“Everyone has that guy, Luce. That one guy you think you’ll never be able to shake—the one who gets under your skin and epically fucks you up for a little while.