Lies that Bind Us

by Andrew Hart

“I don’t mean I dislike them or anything—though, I’ll tell you that Brad is getting on my last nerve—but I’m not sure we have anything in common except a kind of historical accident, you know? We met, and now we’re friends. Kind of. I don’t know how they vote or what they believe in. I don’t know if they have interests, hobbies. Not really. But then, maybe friendship is always like that: coincidence that becomes history. You’re friends because you’re friends.” “I’m almost scared to ask,” he said, “how they vote, what they believe. When they reveal anything at all that isn’t about their jobs or their damn health clubs, I kind of want to run or cover my ears like a kid, you know?” “La-la-la, I can’t hear you?” “Exactly,” said Marcus. “I feel like I’m tiptoeing around, always one false step away from the kind of fight you don’t recover from. I don’t really know why. And we should be able to talk, shouldn’t we? These are smart, successful people. So why do they seem so deliberately, willfully ignorant? I mean, we’re in Crete, for Christ’s sake. The place is stuffed with art and history from every period, philosophy, religion, mythology . . . and no one cares.”