The Reputable Lie

There are always a million little steps that place us where we are. There are always moments, crossroads, where we have to choose. She knew her own choices led her here and every one of them was made for her survival. Still, she wondered, if she had chosen differently, just one different decision, would she be here, standing before him, wondering how it all came down to this moment?

He stared down at her, surveying her as he would an injured puppy. His face was easy to read - pity, inconvenience, annoyance - no sign of love. There was never any sign of love. Still, she spoke. Her voice hoarse, a whisper really, as if even her own body wanted to silence her in his presence. 

“Anthony, I don’t want to upset you. I just, I just think you..” 

A pause. Long enough for her to catch herself, remember her purpose. 

“We...we can’t live like this anymore. We can get help. Things can be different. I just know they can. Please, Anthony. Please. I love you.” 

She threw in the last part for effect. This was never about love. His face took on another emotion - the beginning of rage. She braced herself. She no longer knew if it was his words or his fists that hit the hardest. They almost always showed up together, ruining her again and again. She watched his lip as it curled into a ruthless smile. 

“Stupid girl. I don’t want things to be different. I am not losing everything because you suddenly want “different”. Do you remember where you came from? Where I found you? I plucked you out of hell and brought you here”

His arm circled the house that had become his and hers six years ago. She never even dreamed of living this life. Ten thousand square feet, a garage that held eleven exotic cars, an Olympic-sized swimming pool, the chefs, housekeepers, organizers - it was excessive and breathtaking - and no longer worth it. 

He began again, this time quietly, threatening her with his very breath. 

“I am not here to please you. I don’t care what you think or how you feel. I want that to be perfectly clear. You have this life because I chose to share it with you. I have this life because I am very, very good at getting people to believe me. Remember that. You are replaceable. You will always be replaceable.” 

For good measure, he slid his hand over her neck and squeezed until she could no longer catch her breath. He got close to her. Too close. 

“Never forget that.” 

He turned to the table behind him. A needle and what had become his lifeline sat there waiting for him. She stood and he heated the crystal, slowly pulled back the syringe, and pushed the poison into his vein. 

The drug use was something that united them initially. She was amazed that the man she had seen grace her television, the one that sat on the cover of the magazines in the grocery store line, the guru of life showed up at her club, lured her off the stage, and took her out of that world forever. She loved keeping his secrets at first. It unified them. She would watch him give advice to the world - how to life purely, wholly, and confidently. Then, he would come home to her - the dancer, the drug addict, the lost girl. They would get high and laugh at the insanity of their existence. Sometimes, she even thought she actually loved him. 

Violence was always part of the equation. He liked power. He was quick to remind her where she came from, how worthless she really was. She was quick to believe him. She was willing to trade her pride, her freedom, her happiness for the life he offered. There really wasn’t a choice to make. 

Then, something changed. She had been sober for 2 weeks, 3 days, and 4 hours. She became sober the exact moment she saw those pale pink lines. She had sat on the floor of the bathroom, holding that stick, wondering how something could feel so terrifying and promising at the same time. That moment seemed to be the first time in a long time that she had felt anything. Since then, she often noticed her hand gravitating to her stomach, hoping to connect to the being there. Hoping to be better than she had, better than she was. She did not dare tell Anthony. One rule - no kids. He had said it on the first night, the night they had made this little arrangement. She had promised. Survival makes you sacrifice. She knew if he found out, he may kill her. Still, there was a part of her that had hoped he would get sober. They could make a real go of it, be a family. Now, she knew that would never happen. 

She heard him enter his office and begin his next round of interviews. 

“Well, hi Cassidy. Thank you for having me on the show”

Pause. 

“Oh, well, I appreciate that. I think of myself as more of a guide than a guru. I believe all people have the opportunity to live an authentic life. I am just here to facilitate the process.” 

Pause. 

“Yes, my new book Living Out Loud is in bookstores now. I will also be beginning my national speaking tour next month so come check it out in your city or a city near you.” 

She knew she would be gone by the time he left for the tour. It was no longer her survival that was important. For the first time, she had someone else to think about. For the first time, she felt real love. And love makes you sacrifice. 

The divorce was quick, simple even. They sat across the table from each other knowing their entire agreement had been a mistake. She laughed at the idea that she thought the truth could save them. His only true marriage was to his lie, his reputation. She remembered when she met him. She assumed that if he could save everyone else, he could save her too. Maybe he did. Maybe her ability to still walk out was her rebirth. 

She agreed to everything. He kept his millions. She walked away as the prenup intended - $60,000 which equated to $10,000 a year. He kept the houses, the cars, his reputation. She kept her freedom. She knew that whatever story he decided to spin would make him the martyr, her the offender. Still, she signed the non-disclosure agreement. She didn’t care. She left with a plane ticket and what was left of her pride. 

Within the year, she saw his picture of the cover of the latest magazine. The heading “Love after Betrayal: How Anthony Alberts found the love of his life after enduring years of pain. She did not open the cover. She did not need to read a fictional account of their relationship. She had lived the truth. 

Later that night, after fairytales and endless one-more-hugs, she stared at her child. The little girl had his nose, her eyes, She lost her temper last week and she worried her sweet, flawless little girl may carry parts of him she wants to forget. She has her mom’s resilience, though. She had named her Dealla, meaning protector, for that child had protected her since that day on the bathroom floor. 

It was Dealla’s first day of Kindergarten when she saw the cover of the paper. The headline read, “Self-Help Speaker and Author Dead After Heart Attack”. The lie continued but she knew better. She wondered how long after the overdose did they stop grieving and start protecting him. The picture was of him and his young wife, smiling as though the world was on their side. But she knew truth finds its way to you, whether you are ready or not. 

No one had contacted her. Why would they? She had been forgotten long ago. Dealla was a ghost, she never told a soul who her father truly was. There was one quote in the article, from his agent. 

“Obviously, we are devastated. Anthony Alberts was a man of integrity, love, and truth. He gave his life to help others reclaim their own. He gave so much of his heart, it seems fateful that a heart attack resulted in his passing. Please keep his wife and family in your prayers.”