Chain Reaction 3.1.8: Liar

Michael

     Darrin texts me that he's coming over after work. This is the first I've heard from him in weeks. I've been dying to talk to him, but I've also been too scared to try.

    "Hi," I tell him, trying to sound upbeat. He doesn't look happy. And the lamp at the front door only makes his anger more threatening.

    He doesn't say anything but brushes past me to come inside.

     He looks, well, he looks like crap now that I can see him better. He's obviously not happy to see me. His eyes are tired like he hasn't slept well in weeks. He needs to shave, having just a hint of five o'clock shadow where there normally isn't any. His stance screams, 'Don't touch me!' So I don't.

     "I'm here to formally let you know that we're being forced to drop all charges against you."

     "Really?" This is wonderful news!

     Darrin doesn't act like it's as wonderful as I feel it is. He sounds robotic. "We were given irrefutable evidence that there was someone in one of our tech divisions who tampered with our own evidence, especially that of the owner of the gun that shot your grandfather. This person was also the one who discovered the partial print on the bullet found with Malcolm Landgraab's body. Everything this person has dealt with has come into question, and your father verified your alibi."

     "Darrin-" But he cuts me off with the raising of his hand.

     "That's not all I came here to say. I can't trust you anymore, Mike."

     No. Oh no, this isn't happening.

     "You don't believe me. You still think I did it." I start folding into myself.

     "Yeah, I do."

     "What can I do to convince you otherwise?"

     "You can't! You know, it wasn't until I questioned you did I start believing Drake Goth's story. And dammit, Mike! Landgraab killed your mother! That's enough to mess anyone up, even someone like you. Do I think you're a criminal? No. Even if I still say you did it."

     "Darrin, please. We can move past this. You have to believe me."

     "Stop talking! Dammit, Michael! I misread you before, taking your expressions to just mean that you were worried about my safety in the investigation, but that wasn't it. And every time you open your mouth to speak, nothing but the stench of lies spews forth."

     This makes me mad, and I break out of my huddle. "So is it a lie when I tell you I love you? Are you calling that a lie too?"

     "Right now, love isn't a factor."

     "How can it not be?"

     "I'm not even sure I know who you are, Michael! How can I love you if I don't know you?"

     "I'm Mike! I'm your geeky boyfriend! Nothing has changed. You call me a murderer in one breath then say I'm not a criminal. I'm neither. I'm just me!"

     He steps closer menacingly, and I get afraid of what he might do.

     Inside, I'm aching. I hate lying--to him of all people. Yes, I'm a murderer, but that was in a fit of rage that that monster had escaped again. But I can't tell Darrin this. He's still a cop after all. But he's also the man I love.

     His eyes show how he's just as hurt. "Don't lie to me again, Michael. I would rather you not say anything on the matter than hear another lie. I know you did it, but you know what? I don't care." His lip quivers. "Because I don't blame you. Because I love you, even the you you hid from me." I open my mouth to say something, but he cuts me off again. "But I can't be with you anymore."

     "No." My voice is just a whisper. Then I clear my throat. "No. We love each other. This sort of thing doesn't happen every day." I touch his chest over his heart.

     "Listen to what's in here, Darrin. That's what matters. We can go back to how things were before and never speak of any of this again."

     He pulls my hand off him and places it back at my side. "I can't." He swallows. "It's over, Michael. I don't ever want to see you again."

     I get desperate now. "No. Darrin, please. Listen to me. It's not over." I grab his arm.

     Again, he pulls my hand away. He puts it in his other one, probably intending to place it at my side like he did before, but he pauses, looking at it. His thumb traces a circle in my palm, and his breathing shakes. I hope he's reconsidering but I also fear he's drawing upon some inner resolve.

     His voice catches in his throat, but he manages to get the words out. "Stay safe. Don't hesitate to call the police if you're in danger." He realizes how much Drake must loathe me now. His hand squeezes mine, and he releases it quickly. "Just don't call me."

     I say his name again as he turns away, not looking at me. Wishing I could just hold onto him, I stand here, rooted to the floor, knowing it wouldn't do any good.

     Because he's right. It's over.