Chain Reaction 1.10: Truth and Lies

      Graham and I text back and forth all morning, trying to decide where and when exactly to meet up for the picnic. He changes his mind three or four times, and I almost get the impression that he wants to cancel. When I outright ask, telling him that it's okay, he insists that he still wants to have it. I try calling him, but he lets it go to voice mail. After about a minute, he texts me back saying that he was in the shower and then was trimming his beard. Why didn't he just call me back?
       Finally, we decide to meet near the large lake behind the pub where I'd seen Dad. It's too early in the day to worry about Dad being nearby, so that's fine with me. I tell Graham I can borrow Nyla's car, thinking that he'll insist upon coming and getting me, but he agrees that borrowing her car is a good idea.
      I get to the park and find Graham already seated at a picnic table, staring off into space.
      "Hey!" I say happily and sit down next to him.
      "Hi," he replies, sounding far away. "I made burgers." He hands me one.

     We have a gorgeous day for a picnic. Birds sing happily in the trees, and the sound of distant laughter from children finding pebbles along the shore reaches us on the breeze. I smile, feeling the warmth of the sun on my cheeks. Graham told me he loves me, I think happily. Then, I turn and regard my boyfriend more closely.
     He's hardly looked at me. Is it because I decided to go back to the simple, ponytail look today? My smile slowly fades. Yesterday, he said I was stunning. Although, he said he liked this look too. Why won't he look at me? He didn't even glance at me to hand me my burger. My knee starts bouncing up and down under the table, and my hand fists itself on my thigh.
      Graham continues his ominous silence, staring at a distant spot on the horizon. I don't know what to do; I've never seen this side of him before. Finally, he puts his burger down, half-eaten, and stops.
     I can't stand it! "Is something wrong?"
     "I sincerely hope not," he answers in a flat voice.
    "You're acting strange," I tell him.
    "Am I?" he asks and lets out a lifeless sigh. "I guess I am." He looks down at the table, and his voice sounds quiet. "I met someone last night."
    "Who?" I ask, thinking he didn't mean it after all when he told me he loved me and has already moved on to someone closer to his age.
     "After I left you at your sister's, I decided to go out and get a drink." He pauses. "At the pub up there." He points to it with a jerk of his head. He still won't look at me. "I remembered that you said you'd seen your dad there, so I thought I'd go see. You see, I wanted to take him out back and beat the s--- out of him for how he treated you." He exhales, and I gulp, wishing I'd not eaten what I'd eaten. It sits like a lump in my stomach.

       Graham lets out a mirthless laugh, folds his arms, looks up at the trees, and continues, "Funny thing. He found me. He started up a conversation, introducing himself simply as 'Jett.' I later found out his last name, put two and two together, and realized that this Jett person was your father. I couldn't believe my 'luck'! Here was the man I sought, and I started devising ways I could convince him to step outside for a moment. While I schemed, I sat and listened to him talk, and do you want to know what he told me?" He finally turns to look at me, and his eyes look bloodshot.

       I can't look at his eyes for long, so I close mine. A rushing sound starts up in my ears, and I can't get a full breath of air. Graham was sitting and talking to my dad.
       Graham shows no mercy, and he asks in a harsher tone, "Do you want to know what he told me?!"
       I shake my head and whisper, "No. I don't."
       I find out anyway.

       "He told me about his runaway daughter, his SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD runaway daughter." He doesn't raise his voice, but he may as well have with the way I cringe.

      "Please," his voice breaks once before he can get it back under control, "tell me you have a sibling I don't know about yet."
      I swallow. "I can explain."
      "Oh god!" he loudly whispers and puts his head in his hands. He starts taking deep, gasping breaths interspersed with little huffing noises. I worry he's crying and trying to hide it.
      "Graham..." I reach out and put my hand on his shoulder.
      He quickly jerks back. "Don't touch me!" He scrambles off the picnic table and stands near it but definitely out of my reach.
      I get up from the picnic table, and he continues to back away from me.

     Finally, closer to the water, he spins around. "Okay. Explain," he orders.
     I breathe fast for a moment. "That night...at the park..."
     "You were scavenging, yes. Another lie apparently. One you already admitted to, but still," he interrupts, his voice curt and to the point.
     My eyebrows wrinkle up. "I was scared! There you were acting like you were going to contact my parents or something! So, I lied about my age. How was I to know you wanted to ask me out?!"

     His eyes quickly widen, and a harsh scowl darkens his features. "Don't you dare turn this around on me, Brielle!" he snaps.
     Whoa. "I wasn't! You asked me to explain. That's part of it. I was scared! But then you were nice, and I tried to say no to going out the next day, but you kept asking!" That wasn't my fault! I tried to say no.

     "Yes," he agrees. "Of course I did. Why wouldn't I? I believed you were eighteen." He's so close that I'd wonder if he were about to kiss me but for the look on his face. He suddenly grabs my collar with his fists. "Do you have any idea how much trouble I could be in?! One word: Felony!" He lightly pushes me backwards, not nearly enough to knock me down but enough to force me to take a step back. His fists open up like he wants to cleanse himself of me.

       I swallow back some tears. "I tried to tell you a couple of times like when I first came to your office. Then, I tried that same day at your house. You asked me not to! You said I'd had enough of the emotional rollercoaster." I try to reach for his hands.

     He immediately crosses his arms and glares at me. "You should've said it anyway." He walks down the beach away from me, and I follow him.
     "I know. I know! I'm sorry! I just... Well, after... I just couldn't." My voice breaks. "Graham, please!"

       He turns, and I finally see a trace of compassion in his reddened eyes. With a small hope, I continue. "I couldn't because you were so wonderful. I... I... I started not wanting to anymore."
       "So, you wanted to continue lying to me," he states with a strange calm.
       I break down, and he stays a few steps away. "No!" I cry. "I hated lying to you. I just... I wanted the lie to be true." My words try to choke me, but I get them out anyway.

      "It doesn't work that way, Brielle!"
      I whisper. "I'm still me; you're still you. The only difference is now you know. You told me last night you love me."

      He collapses into his hands, sobbing. I've never seen a man cry like this, and I worry that people up on the sidewalk will get curious with the noise he makes. His entire frame is tense and shaking, and he sounds like he's strangling himself on his sobs.
      I whisper his name and walk up to him, aching to hold him and tell him that everything can still be okay.
      "No," he cries and blindly tries to fight me away. "No," he repeats. "You're not still you. Everything started with a lie."

        He continues with a helpless look in his eyes. "I don't know you. And... I'm not interested in playing pretend."
        My heart stops beating. He chose his words perfectly, choosing something childish to call what we had.

     I nod, and I can't stop my tears from flowing down the sides of my cheeks. Graham does his best to hide his face. "I'm sorry," I whisper.
     He quietly responds, "So am I."

       He doesn't turn around, not even a glimpse back, as he walks away from me.

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