Can You...Trust Me?

Dear Mom,                                                     

I’m caught in a web. Literally. I’m a bug. Caught in the web of a spider. This sticky substance prevents me from attending Mom-mom’s house—enjoying your mother’s 100^th birthday. Well, I’m stuck.   

I know I should be celebrating—Scotts and Sari are there—but I can’t escape these lies. These woven, frustratingly hard, attractively deceptive lies have tangled me up. But I’ve tried so hard to just do the right thing, and I’m not so sure. I told Mom-mom—promised her—I would be at the birthday party. I just…got caught up.

I’m not a bug. I’m a person. I don’t deserve to be stuck to these sticky fibers all strung together by the spider right beside me. I need to go to that awesome sauce of a party. But for some reason, lies keep me away from the fun and games. I mean, I want to be honest. I really do! I understand I don’t have the ability to be brutally honest with myself. Well, that’s not true—I can be brutally honest with myself. I am just not that kind of person. I don’t speak brutally honestly. Is that even a term? I don’t think so. If you want me to look it up, I will. I’ll let you know. Promise! Please—just don’t say that I never went to school—because I did. I just don’t always know everything. I’m just a kid. A college graduate, but I’m so young. I don’t know everything. I’ll tell you everything I know. I can! Just believe me when I say I don’t understand what it takes to tell the truth. I just…*sighs* I just don’t…could you just sit and listen? Could we listen? To each other?

Do you even care why I lie? Ever since I saw this stupid web that startled me and, thus, got all tangled up in it after trying to fight it off, I’ve wanted to tell you the truth. The truth about my biological father. About how he abandoned me (and, thus, why I was adopted). I don’t mind being adopted. But the reason why? He just gave me up! He was basically saying I wasn’t his son. What a lie! I am his son.    

Did I understand what was going on in my little preschooler’s mind that time when Dad was on the phone but also talking to his boss? Did I understand then that Dad’s own file papers and tax documents and emails piling up in his computer were his children? Were his family?

Did I? Did I?!

Did you ever care to tell me the truth? Were those words of “Your biological father’s coming home, Ricks, next week to see you!” or “Ricks, your biological father will pick you to go to the ball game tonight!” truthful? Were they?  

No. They were simply statements that flew out of the window the second they escaped your lips. Just like the words my dad spoke on the phone were empty phrases like these holes in this spider’s web. They’re there to…I don’t know. I just know the words my dad spoke would go right through these holes. Right past this huge hole. It’s because my dad cared as much about his son, Ricks, as the spider does about the poor bug’s desire to escape. That’s right. I’m the bug caught in the sticky, winding web of neglect and sorrow and strife. Striving to connect but never being able to because I can’t. Dad never connected with me.  

So he doesn’t deserve for me to even call him. He’s a pathetic man.        

I’m sorry I started lying to you way back. But you should know why. You should understand, since you adopted me. You’re the one who raised me, despite my desire to lick the plate clean of truth and vomit disgusting lies onto it, hand this yuck to the person and assume they eat it.  

You want to know why I’m like that? Well, it’s because…

Well, maybe you don’t want to hear dishonesty. My endless dishonesty radiating up from this paper to your eyeballs and into your brain. You don’t want these words poisoning your mind. And attacking your heart. And squelching your ability to believe me. Just like my dad, you’ll abandon me. Because honesty and I are enemies. We don’t know each other anymore.

Just like my dad and I don’t know each other anymore, Truth and I don’t exist together, either.

For my sake, let's call him Dad. Because he is. My dad.

But truth isn’t Dad, and Dad isn’t truth. Truth is an abstract noun. Something you say to someone. Dad is a human, someone who is able to tell the truth to me. Someone, not something. Not a concept. Not a moral. Not a belief. Not a way of understanding something. Not a subject matter debated in academic, social and even psychological scenarios.

He’s my flesh-and-blood parent. Why is work his wife? His son? His life? His future, past and present, all circling around him like a vegetable tray circles the dip?  

I’m not food. I’m a flesh-and-blood character who knows relationships are real. Why can’t my dad see that? Why can’t that be truth?            

I can hear you nagging at me, bordering on whining. Do you even hear yourself?

I know, I know. I’m hurting Mom-mom and you and Scotts and Sari. But please hear me out. If I’m honest, will you forgive me? Will you wipe away all the ugly stains from my life now and forever? Can you please just forgive all the wrongdoings my life has caused you? I understand Mom-mom’s anger, Scotts’ finger-flinging disappointment and your endless worry. But, please, forgive me. Wipe the slate clean. Wipe away all the cobwebs in my life. I’ve been a bad, bad kid with a web of lies resulting from one lie I told way back.

Tell Scotts he can go befriend someone whose middle name is Honesty. Mr. Liar has fled the camp of obedience, friendship and joy. The truth ship has sailed.

Mom-mom can write me out of her will. A liar doesn’t belong in her family tree. A liar doesn’t deserve money. A liar can’t earn anything. He should only earn the wages of disappointment. I don’t even deserve Mom-mom’s birthday party. I deserve to show up and confess my life as a liar.

But help me become Mr. Truthful. I will marry Scotts’ sister. If she wants me still, that is.

I strive not to be like Dad. I don’t want to live a poor life, wasting it on everything and anything but my child or children. I understand—cut me from your family.

Back to Dad. He lied to me. I don’t get it—I’m his son. I’m his one and only child, his son and his rightful heir to everything he has ever owned. It’s all mine when he’s dead. I just can’t believe he’s going to be gone—forever this time—when he’s in a coffin in the ground. But not in my heart. Not in my mind. Not in my life. Not even verbally. Because I’m his son. His biological son.

Neglect was his middle name. I mean, this is my biological dad we’re talking about. Dad—the guy adopting me when I was four hours old—isn’t related to me. I just want my dad. A good man in my life. I’m sorry, but Dad—my adoptive father—isn’t my dad. Isn’t Dad. I want my flesh-and-blood relative. Now.

Scott’s there. But I’m not. I’m here, caught in this web—of lies. But can you forgive me? Can you assuage me of my past? My history as a chronic liar? Because I’m just getting tired of waiting for your grace and mercy. The two items I feel I need. I know I’m a liar. But can’t you show some grace? Be my loving mother? Be a loving parent?

Be my parent? Be both Dad and Mom? Be someone I know and care about, too?

Scotts and Sari aren’t related to me. They’re just my friends. Scotts may have been like a brother since nursery school, and Sari like a sister five years later. But they’re not flesh-and-blood. They’re friends. Not my siblings.

I don’t have any. And you know that.

So please. I’m begging you. Please consider my plight. Please—

No! No!

The spider crawled onto Ricks, its huge hairy legs climbing onto his jean pants and then up a thigh. Its massive pincers collided together in its mouth as it threatened him. He instinctively kicked up, and the spider smacked onto the branch above the web. It fell down, and lay still. Ricks grabbed his paper and pencil, and strived to pull and pull against the web. His face pinched, he strained his body against the darn stickiness. Then, all was silent—deafeningly quiet. Ricks opened his eyes and turned around—a gaping hole of blackness stared right back at him.

He was free! Ricks headed in Mom-mom’s house’s direction. Soon, he was at the birthday party, hundreds of elderly couples mingling and laughing around a large pool. Suddenly, Scotts barreled right for him. Getting knocked down onto the hard pavement right beside the pool, Ricks rolled over and sprang up. “Dude!” He searched for Scotts. Suddenly, a gale of laughter saturated the warm summer night air. “Scotts, man, where are you?”

“I…right on your back. Literally!”

Ricks halted dead in his tracks.   

Time stopped.

Dad and I are looking at each other’s selves. That’s why we’re looking away from each other.

His conscience said this: Only when you love your father by forgiving him do you look at Dad, and Dad hopefully you.

His conscience retorted: If you keep going, you will be lying about your father out of vengeance. You can’t pay evil for evil. If Dad lied to you, you should respond not in kind but lovingly.

Slowly turning around and then stopping with widened eyes, he stood still. Wincing as his back was pushed against and then finally free of Scotts’ arm, he said. Laughter still filled the air. But Ricks ignored it.      

“My letter!”

He spun around, it swimming in the pool. Someone grabbed it and moaned about it being all soggy. His pencil, he knew, had rolled away somewhere under a lawn chair out here. so many people crowded the pool finding that pencil was like looking for a needle in the haystack. Oh, well. I’ll get another pencil soon.

Ricks snatched the yellow sheet of lined paper from the person, frowning at the dripping mess, the letters all squiggly and squashy. Soon, Mrs. Rick came out, Ricks saw, and gasped. “Oh, Ricks!” She went over, putting her glass down on a small side table and hugged Rick fiercely. “Oh, Ricks!” She repeated, letting go and scuffling his hair. Ricks didn’t like that. He fixed it quickly, and she continued the embarrassment.

“Oh, are you alright?”

“Yes…” Ricks’ eyes widened even more when he noticed Scotts’ hands spread out, web all over it. Running up to him, Ricks stopped and tried pulling the sticky substance off. It came off, but Ricks’ eyes went huge when he heard a huge bomb of laughter. He jerked his head back, trying to see what was on his back. “Dude! What’s there?”

Scotts was too busy being like everyone else—his eyes shimmered with mirth, his hands over his big mouth and his body shaking, soon collapsing on the ground. Soon, he was pointing and laughing at Ricks. Ricks, slowly stepping back, slipped and fell right into the pool, causing a big splash. Spluttering and crying for help, Ricks flailed, yelling that he couldn’t swim.

“Liar!”

The sound of his best friend’s sister’s voice caused Ricks to panic even more. Once someone helped him over to the edge, he clung to it for dear life. Glaring at Scotts, he scrambled up and shoved him. “You think you’re so cool like that?”

“Cool like what?”

Ricks turned, and saw his aged grandmother standing there, hunched over and clutching a cane. She was looking right at Ricks, and Ricks’ face, he felt, burned with shame. Burned with the truth that emanated right from her always bright, sparkly eyes. “I thought my son was honest, but I thought my grandson was an honest man, too. At least should be, regardless of anyone else’s ability to be so, too.”        

As the partygoers’ hilarity died down and everyone started shuffling away with their spouses and friends, Ricks stood there, eyes blinking. Tears wouldn’t come—he wouldn’t allow those waterworks to be the final straw. He stood there, breathing hard. Looking at Scotts, he threw out a hand. “Come on, man. Can you tell me—honestly—whether there’s more web?”

“I’ll forgive you. Of your dishonesty. But I’ll remember this night.” Scotts, to Ricks’ despair, shifted away, heading, he said, for more cake. Ricks looked over. Sari stood there, sighing, clasping her hands. Adopted, too, from India, and always the black sheep of the family. Ricks went over to her, but she looked at him with hard eyes. “I don’t know what it takes to be on the right end of the pool, but, Ricks, you need to be brutally honest with yourself—either ditch the lies, or continue in them. You can be a hypocrite, but not an honest liar.”         

But she didn’t leave. Sari waited, sighing impatiently. Ricks threw his hands out, explaining everything. Sari nodded, but Ricks didn’t want fake sympathy. He wanted acceptance. Forgiveness. He threw out that she, too, didn’t always fit into the cultural norms of the day when it came to—

“Honesty is the best place to go. You don’t always get caught up in it.”

Ricks turned to her. He thought about the pool incident. He thought about the spider’s web. Scotts had been stuck to it, too. Now his own grandmother rejected him. He looked back at Sari. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

Not that I deserve it. But a little mercy—a thing my dad never understood—would go a long way. I’m still human.

Sari looked at him, and half-smiled. Then she looked down. Ricks said he was lied to, so—  

“Lied about what?” She retorted.

”About being my dad. So,” he shrugged sarcastically, bitterly. “in turn, I lie!”         

“Look, I’m sorry you were abandoned by your biological dad. I wake up every day an adopted daughter of two parents who aren’t my real parents. But I forgive those who have wronged me. So, please, do the honest thing, and understand that you can’t be honest if you’re not willing to do the honest thing by forgiving your father of his abandonment.”

“Am I adopted because my dad abandoned me?”

“No!” Sari threw a look at him. “No! Look, I see my adoption as abandonment—though it’s not—I still feel it is. But we can learn, right?” She looked at him, and he at her. “Please. Do the right thing. For the right person.” She put a hand on her chest. “For me. Besides, you can’t win acceptance with dishonesty. I’m not always Sari, and neither should you! Be Mr. Bitter. Instead, be Mr. Betterment.” She laughed. "Sari? Like sorry? Get it?"

Ricks knew he couldn’t gain acceptance by rejecting others. Only by forsaking lies could he accept the truth.

“I want you to be honest, but I also want you to forgive your father. I don’t want to marry a liar—I want to be with someone I can trust. Mr. Honesty, huh?”  

She walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “I want to marry someone who understands me as much as you would want me to understand you. I promised Scotts I’d marry the right man. If I marry you, will you be honest with me? Literally?”

“What?” His face twisted into a question mark.

“Will you be honest, too?”      

“You can’t just replace my dad.”

“Like father like son.”

“No. like…like…I don’t want to play around. Not in the pool. Not with the web.”

“Then don’t get caught up in it.” Ricks asked for her forgiveness. She asked him one thing. “Please don’t ever again. Even to my face.”   

Ricks sighed, knowing it’d be hard. “I just want to move on.”

“Then do so. Brutally.”

“With honesty.”

“Yeah!”

Ricks nodded. And so did Sari. Then they decided to keep it really private with something Ricks and Sari had discovered about each other in the past: telepathy.

At least she’s with me. All the way…

At least so far.   

Better than Scotts’ total neglect. And Mom.

Mrs. Ricks, Scotts and Mom-mom want an honest son, best friend and grandson. That’s it!

You know what? I don’t need Mom. I need—

Ricks looked at her. She looked to see whether he’d make the decision. At least that’s what her eyes said. When everyone else’s turned away.

“Look, I can’t just stop. I don’t know why, but I guess…I didn’t inherit it from my dad.”

“Then stop drowning. Unstick to the web and swim up and breathe in the truth. And let it out! And come on. We’re missing the party.”

Of lies. He knew what she was talking about. The web of lies. The fact that he couldn’t stop, just like his father couldn’t come back. Well, it wasn’t like father, like son. Like spider, like web. It was like he could come back. Come back to honesty. To truth.

He nodded as they walked back inside together, hands holding.  

“I promise.”   

And for the rest of Ricks’ life, he did. All those lies and any future ones were neglected.

Sari and he married one day.                                    

Because she believed me on our wedding day. He smiled to himself. Because she stayed by my side—like a friend would.

And me her. Brutally honestly.