Saving face

‘I'm out with family.’ The lie falls seamlessly from his lips, as he presses his index finger to them signalling me to stay quiet, cradling his phone with his other hand. 

I momentarily phase out staring at his mouth, thinking of all the different ways I've imagined him using it. Quick and passionate in the rain. Lazily tongues sliding together as we lie in the grass on a breezy afternoon. Tickling my ear with whispered nonsense as we hold each other close. 

He coos a vomit-inducing endearment into the receiver that snaps me out of my reverie. To me it sounds profane. He hangs up with almost bored, obligatory words of love that would sound real to an untrained ear, but I have been studying him too well to not see through them. I realise how pathetic I am to want those counterfeit feelings, in the very least.

'Why did you lie?' I hear myself say, and my voice surprises me, because I wasn't even thinking that. 

'Hmm?' Comes his distracted reply, as his quick fingers swipe across the screen sending a hurried text. 

'You said you were with your family. You lied.' I cringe at the accusation in my voice I hadn't intended.

He clicks his phone shut and returns to the present. 'And what I should've said was...?'

'You were with a friend.' I say simply, like it’s obvious. Like it should’ve been said.

'And invited more questions?' He chuckles patronisingly. 'No thanks, I'll pass.'

I'm trying to place the emotion I feel at his ridiculously adorable grin that otherwise melts my heart. I think it is anger or hurt, I don’t know. I have never been able to tell the difference between the two.

‘Why didn't you tell her it was me?’

He loses the smirk, and his eyes widen as he looks at me like I've lost it.

‘Are you seriously asking me that? After everything that’s happened? You know how she feels about you.’ He offers as a measly explanation which he seems to think is enough.

My heart sinks as I hear myself say things I never dreamed of saying aloud. ‘Why do you keep me in your life then?’

The question stumps him for a moment, but he composes himself hastily. ‘Because we’re friends. You walked into my life before she did. You’re important to me. And just because she can’t handle that, I'm not going to throw you out of my life.’

I take a deep breath and process that. It’s not the first time he’s had a passionate outburst in talking about our friendship, or whatever twisted association it is that we have, but it still gets me. Every time. I feel myself going soft, but then I check the false hope that threatens the corners of my mouth to turn upwards and let him win. I force sarcasm into my thoughts and mentally applaud him for putting together such a touching declaration impromptu. No. Not today. Today, I cannot take these lies any more.

‘If I am so important, why must you lie? Why can’t you just tell her the truth and see how she takes it?’ I attempt to mask the whining in my voice, albeit unsuccessfully.

‘It’s not that simple. We've talked about this.’

‘Have we? Or are you referring to all the times I brought it up and you conveniently changed the subject?’  I feel the anger rising inside me (Yep, pretty sure it’s anger now.)

He sighs dramatically, and in the infinitesimal moment that follows, I recognise the look on his face, having imprinted every one of his minute expressions into a mental catalogue I was preparing for some Karmic reward. He’s going to make a joke, or worse, say something that makes me blush. I realise he’s going for option two as he shifts ever so slightly into my personal space.

‘Don’t.’ I hiss through angry tears, and he cowers, a theatre-worthy confused expression on his face. It’s the fake written all over his face face that ignites all the built up fuel of rage inside me.

‘You say we’re friends. That should mean equals. Yet you make these decisions, you spew these lies that cheapen what we have.’

‘It’s not like…’

‘ I'm not finished!’ I lash out. He lowers his head and loses his voice. I see his despondent eyes and almost cross over the line from angry to hurting (for him), but then I remind myself that they are liars, just like him.

‘I can’t do this any more ’ I exhale, defeated. ’If you can’t man up to tell her the truth, you can’t have me in your life either. I will not be degraded like a clandestine affair.’

Knowing him well enough, I can see through his mask, the flitting of myriad emotions. Confusion, hurt, anger, and finally, his ego speaks to him, and asks him to man up, not for the truth, but to save face. This emotion he felt with the greatest force, and this I am sure of because of what he said next - 

‘Is this an ultimatum?’

I laugh dryly and shake my head. ‘This is farewell. I wish I could trust you enough to threaten you. But you’re not worth that. So you can keep your lies. I'm going to keep my dignity.’

And that was the day I walked out on my 'best friend'.

(It wasn't until much later on the cab ride home that I realised how ridiculously cheesy I must have sounded. I couldn't bring myself to care any more. For once, I let myself exalt in the cheap thrill of saving face.)