A liar

A liar. Something Aria never called me. We have been friends forever. Our lives were an open book with one another. We knew everything about everyone in our lives. I was her maid of honor and godmother to her first child. We told each other everything. 

Aria thought she had the perfect life. She thought she did everything the “right way.” She married her first boyfriend. She had a big beautiful backyard wedding, an expensive honeymoon, and a gorgeous home with a white picket fence. She had two amazing children. A boy and a girl. 

She hated being a mom. She admitted that to me. She had a full time nanny, who was raising them. She was mean to her children.  In fact, Aria was mean to everyone. Since her mom died when we were young, she felt like everyone owed her something.

When you were around her, she made you feel like you were less than dirt. Nothing was ever good enough in Aria’s eyes. Your clothes were never the right label, you were never thin enough, and you were certainly never allowed to be in your own happiness. Three years ago, I was happy. I had a great job, an amazing boyfriend, and was in the best shape of my life physically. Aria couldn’t stand it. She sent my boss an anonymous email saying they needed a reference at a competing consultant group, and I was let go from my dream job. She later told me she did it for my own good. “My job was consuming me and I would lose my boyfriend if I continued to focus so much on work.” I forgave her.

We would both work out together, going to the gym and getting smoothies. I started to gain weight, not knowing why. She was bringing the best “protein shakes” before our work outs. She admitted that she accidentally bought “bulking” powder and was giving it to me. I forgave her. 

The final straw was when she cheated. She cheated on her husband. She cheated on her husband with my boyfriend. I forgave her, but not him. I didn’t even tell her husband. I protected her.

She had an excuse for everything. When I would get mad, she would tell me about how lost she was since her mom died, and the only thing she had left was her mom's money.  How, “everything was all her fault.” I would always cave and forgive her. Our relationship was fake. It was frustrating. It was a lie, and it was all my fault. I always gave in. I felt like I needed to protect her. I felt responsible for her happiness. After 25 years, I had enough. I wanted to be happy. I deserved to be happy. 

Then something happened. It had been three weeks. I have been waiting three weeks to tell her what I saw. Her entire world would be shattered. Her trust ripped from her hands. The person she thought loved her most in the world, is not who she thinks they are. I saw him,her husband Brian, with a woman. She was a brunette. A beautiful brunette. Her hair was perfectly curled, with sun kissed highlights perfectly placed. She looked effortlessly comfortable and classic. Her sunglasses perked upon her head, just enough to have a small piece of hair dangle in front of her eye. Her smile was electric. 

Why was he at this café, an hour from their house? Why did he hug her? Why did he kiss her? Why are they holding hands? Why are they both giddy, and playing footsie? He ordered her coffee, her bagel, he already knew her. She made him smile.

I didn’t say anything to him about how this was wrong. He looked happy, and so did she. Who was this woman? She knew he was married, but he was unhappy. He was broken.They just looked right together, they meshed. They talked effortlessly, they listened to one another. Really listened. It’s like they have known each other forever. 

This is the story I told her. She called me a liar and said she didn’t believe me. I said my truth and did not leave one detail out, maybe gave too many. She screamed at me. Said I was a Liar! Liar. There’s that word again. She told me to mind my own business. She said he wouldn’t do that. She said she knew I was coming up with something to get back at her because her life was so perfect. He never would do that, she said I’ve always been jealous. Jealous. Me, jealous of her. 

Brian was my crush, before her mom died. She told him she would only be happy if he was her boyfriend. She said that was the only thing that would help her feel better. This was 20 years ago. She said I never moved on. 

Every time he tried to break up with her, she would make him feel bad, and he would come back. He had a better job now. He didn’t need her money anymore. The kids weren’t even his. They needed a sperm donor, because she didn’t want them to “be fat like his parents.” He loved the kids like his own. It was over. He wanted out. He was getting out.

I tried to tell her, I did tell her. I did leave one detail out, the name of the woman. I knew who she was, or who she used to be. Someone who did everything for everyone. Someone who bent over backwards for Aria, dropping their own life to pick hers up. This woman she used to know as well. Someone who used to love her unconditionally. She was right, I never moved on. This woman was me.

Aria’s world fell apart; that is what she wanted people to believe. She gave full custody of the children to Brian. She blamed him. She said he only wanted her money. She tried to break him. She left. She left her children. She left her life. She left me. She never cared about me. She finally had her excuse to leave. She moved to a high rise in Miami. She didn’t need to pretend anymore. She was finally happy; and so was I. Brian was mine.