Among Lies

I peeked at him through the corner of my eye. He looked back, barely turning his head. I snapped back to my window. Then both his eyes focused on the road.

“If you try any funny business, sweetie,” he said, “it’s only me who’ll end up laughing.”

I nodded and wiped my cheeks dry with the back of my hand.

He pointed at the glove compartment. When I opened it, a box of tissues tilted down. I got two sheets and mouthed the words “thank you” to him.

“Apologies for being firm. You can’t be too safe when taking in a hitchhiker.” Sinking back into his seat beside me, he tapped the steering wheel. “So… the Town of Tresepla, huh? Like I said, what are the chances? I know the local pastor personally. And you?”

I cleared my throat. “The librarian.”

“Hard to believe that you decided to walk all the way there. What had a night like this done to a damsel like you?”

The night? Memories burned me from within—fireflies, a kiss, my phone.

“Charlie,” he said.

“I’m sorry?”

“The name’s Charlie.”

I looked out my window. “Marriot.”

Streetlights sped to the rear, trees crowded the edges of the road, and a few soaring leaves attacked the glass in front of us.

“Well, Marriot, besides you crying and stopping cars in the middle of nowhere, what’s your story?” he asked.

I told him I was a widow with two kids who were each working two jobs to supply my every want. I told him that my self-driving car dropped me off on a cliffside trail because I might have mentioned how much I loved nature more than anything.

“Interesting thing you started,” he said. “I wanna play. Okay, every time we spot a car parked on the side of the road flashing its hazard lights, I’ll tell you a story about me that may or may not be true. I’ll give you up to three and let you guess the truth among lies. Once we reach Tresepla, I’ll tell which is which.”

“I, for a fact, prefer silence.”

“Hitchhikers don’t get a say. Till then…” He played his podcast through the speakers.

I breathed out a sigh.

White hair with a receding hairline, strong brown eyes, sharp cheekbones, and wrinkles that made you count till sixty—Charlie didn’t look like the likes who you’d jump in to play a game with. You’d rather leave him alone with his podcast. The Foolmaker was on, and it dissected the different kinds of financial scams. I didn’t know I could yawn any louder.

“I see what you’re doing,” he said with a smile. “Again, no matter how charming they are, hitchhikers don’t get a say.”

We spotted a driver changing a tire on the side of the road, and his car’s hazard lights were on.

Charlie paused the podcast. “I’m a realtor trying to sell lots in Tresepla. One of the buyers complained about a nonstop buzzing of a nearby factory during the night, so I’m hurrying over to check it out. My son’s an airline pilot and he doesn’t bother to return any of my calls. Bad cell service, probably. No, he hates me for selling his mom’s house. Can’t blame him.”

“Tragic,” I said, nodding. “Or worth it? Take your pick.”

“Hm, more on the tragic side, yes. But I still smile.”

He unpaused the podcast, which continued on the subject of insurance fraud—yes, a tiny part of me was listening.

I opened my window and had my hand ride waves in the breeze.

Charlie told me about his dog loving the open window of any moving car. His Furgow didn’t stick his tongue out the window like the others. Instead, he pushed his tail out, looked over his shoulder, and watched the wind alone wag it for him.

“Lie, no doubt.”

“It’s true,” he replied. “Consider it a bonus, sweetheart.”

Then we stopped at the side of the road, his car’s headlights toasting the night air. He told me that nature called.

“Is it coming from that tree?” I asked, my eyes on the nearest hunk of wood.

He laughed. “Maybe. And it just might regret it. I’d ask if you had to go too, but this is more of a men’s room situation.”

I put up my hands as I shook my head. Bored to the bone, I tinkered with anything within my reach. Upon checking the different camera angles on the infotainment system, I found nothing but pitch blackness beyond the reach of the car’s lights. I leaned my seat back as far as it could go and switched on my seat warmer. All that was missing were a couple of cucumber slices. Though Charlie’s beloved podcast kept playing, I sank into haunted peace, my eyes closed.

Then came the click from the passenger door. The biting breeze barged in, and my seat snapped back to its upright position. As my eyes popped open, Charlie stood before me, smiling. “That looks tempting,” he said. “Too tempting. You might want to keep things fair between us, sweetheart.”

I threw a tantrum past my teeth while he circled around to get to the driver’s side.

The moment he sat back down, I scoffed.

“Aren’t your old man and mum calling you like crazy at this time of night?” he asked.

“Oh, is that what parents are supposed to do? If so, you’re the first to tell me.”

It took him a while to say another word. “Did we just hit a sore topic?” he asked.

I faced my window. “Don’t worry about it, Charlie.”

He lifted another smile. “I wasn’t going to.”

We later passed by a sixteen-wheeler that stayed on the side of the road, huge hazard lights going on and on.

I asked if that counted as a car, but before I could even finish the question, he paused the podcast. “I am an ex-convict. You see, I almost killed a man who tried to keep what wasn’t his. When I got out, so much of the world had changed. My wife—ex-wife—had been sharing a house and a bed with a young lawyer for years. I stole his car and raced out of that city as fast as I could.”

“Stop it,” I said in a lazy tone. “You’re making me cry.”

“Not buying it, huh?”

“Not so much. Though that might explain the watch.”

He looked to the left, at his polished timepiece.

“Tag Heuers do come easily to the hands of crooks,” I added.

He smacked his lips. “Why bother buying what’s free, right?”

I laughed. “I’m onto you.”

We swerved into a gas station; one or two of its lights flickered. I could not report any sign of life. The whole ‘self-service’ theme seemed obvious, and Charlie got to it. With a bladder that could barely endure another minute, I rushed to the gas station’s restroom, ready to brave the paranormal. The walls looked sticky to the touch, so I kept my hands on the closest clean thing—myself.

While I went down to business, a wiser thought brought up the need for collateral to keep Charlie from leaving. Holding on to his car key would’ve been nice. I met the urge to slap myself on the forehead. Instead, I fixed my skirt and escaped the sticky walls with haste.

Outside, I found Charlie sitting on the hood of his car and checking his watch. “Faster than I expected,” he said. “All set?”

My mouth hung ajar. I didn’t say no.

Rain started to pour. Rocking from side to side, the windshield wipers slowly lulled my eyes to sleep.

A minivan stayed still on the side of the road while we sped past it.

“Sorry, no hazard lights,” I said with both eyes half open.

Charlie looked through the rearview mirror. I, on the other hand, stared at the wing mirror. Then a duo of yellow lights flashed on and off, on and off behind us.

Charlie laughed, slapped the steering wheel, and hit ‘pause’ on the podcast. “I am a private eye. My recent case was with a rich man whose son was murdered more than a year ago. It took some time, but I exposed the perfect murder executed by an obsessed stalker—the classic ‘if I can’t have him, no one can’ motive. I got the car and the watch as gifts. Here I am, on my way to Tresepla to follow another case.”

“If it was the perfect murder, I would have… heard of it.”

“And why is that?”

I dozed off before I could answer. 

My door clicked open. I woke up to the sight of dawn while everything stood as still as a picture. From my side of the car, Charlie reached out a sealed coffee cup to me. “We’re almost there,” he said.

Mist grew as our wheels clawed onward; within it and behind the Welcome to Tresepla sign, a town hid. Two-story structures made from uneven bricks sharpened into view as we approached, black hanging wires clashing against the white mist, vines crawling to the highest windows. My eyes followed the townsfolk as they wandered wearing thick scarves around their necks.

“Do I get to guess now?” I asked Charlie.

“Let’s go find your librarian friend first. I’m gonna need another gasp as I make the reveal.”

We drove past the local church, which had a poorly built bell tower. I looked at Charlie and kept my eyes and a furrowed brow on him.

“What?” he said. “I can say hi later.”

“Turn left here then,” I said.

He followed my every direction till we reached a malformed building that lacked a roof.

“No….” I mumbled.

As soon as Charlie stopped the car, I hopped out and into the shapeless shadow of the building. The library was no more, and not a single pedestrian was around to walk through its doors. A cracked voice found its way into every breath that I took, and the church bell rang from blocks away.

Charlie got down and scratched his head. As he reached for something inside the car, his hazard lights started scaring the few roaches on the side of the road.

“Got another story to tell?” I asked.

“No.” He took out a handkerchief and walked to the sidewalk behind me. Upon sitting down on the sidewalk’s edge, he spread out the handkerchief beside him and patted it. “It’s your turn, sweetheart.”

The moment I sat beside him, I found myself drifting to my childhood, where I was a ragamuffin who pretended to read books in the library. I was just looking at the pictures. One day, she got sick of shooing me away, so we made a deal—I’ll do everyday chores for her like dusting books and she’ll allow me to stay and even teach me how to read. I guess she was just looking for ways to pass the time, and maybe the company I provided her wasn’t too bad either.

Every time the library closed, she would leave me a fresh bun from the bakery, bid me good night, and leave me to sleep on three chairs sitting side by side. I laid my head on a thick paperback book tucked inside a paper bag—the only pillow she could offer.

A smile invaded my face the time I read my very first page out loud. She hugged me tight right after. Then I read more, and more, and more, hoping I could earn more hugs. On the weekdays, she sneaked me into school, and when I got a scholarship at a university, she walked with me through every moment that led to my first day.

I became a journalist with an undying interest in crime. I frequented police stations in hopes of getting the big scoops. Then I met him, a young precinct captain who had eyes for me. I knew he was stuck up from many angles, but I finally said yes to one date. He turned into this absolute romantic when the night started. Our venue was a forest atop a cliff where fireflies showed such wonder. We had a lovely nighttime picnic with a lamp in the middle. Him, the view, the lights—it was all pure magic.

The moment we got back into his car, our gazes intertwined. He leaned in for the kiss, and I met him halfway. The first kiss led to more. He started gripping more of me, his lips crossing borders. My eyes squeezed themselves shut. Overpowered, I yelled “Stop!” three times. So why didn’t he? I took out my phone and slammed its screen onto his head. With blood in his hair, he collapsed face-first on my lap where his breath kept my skirt warm.

As I raced out of his car, a hiker and his dog slowed down upon seeing me. I panicked at the sight of a witness and scrambled to the highway, where I ran in front of the first speeding vehicle I found. An old enraged driver stepped down, asking if I was that eager to meet my maker. He had three stories to tell in one night.

“Tsk, you’re doing it wrong,” Charlie said, seated beside me. “You’re not supposed to be showing too much emotion after telling the truth. It gives it away.” He gestured toward the tears that had streamed across my face.

“Is there a bit of a private eye in that realtor?” I said as I wiped my face on my shoulder.

He sighed. “What if I was more criminal than you think? What if I was more like someone who tried to steal back his old man’s watch? And someone who had to fire the bullet once his life depended on it?”

Teary-eyed, I shrugged and chuckled. “Then I would say that you’re less boring than I expected.”

He messed up my hair as if I’d been a good dog, then reached out the car key in front of me. “Go back,” he said. “Leave the hiding to me.”

“He’ll give me hell,” I replied.

“So you’ll shrink into the past in the middle of the mist?”

I couldn’t respond.

“Return the car, be a hero to the lawyer I despise the most, and fight with one more ally by your side,” he said. “Fight.”

The key hung in front of the mist-ridden shambles and ruins, glinting. I lifted my hand, held on to it, and purged the cold from its every edge.

“Just be sure to take the fake license plates off before you—”

“I got this.”

He nodded, smiling.

“Will I ever see you again?” I asked.

“You just might, sweetheart. Whisper a story into the fog of Tresepla and you might.”

“Is that a fact?”

He shook his head no. “That’s the truth. Consider it a bonus.”