Miserable Lies and Love Filled Truths

“My name is Fiona, nice to meet you!”

 That’s not my name. Tell the truth.  

My name is not Fiona, or Sienna, or Marlow. It’s Theodora. Theodora Tornsey. When my entire world is full of lies, that is my one truth.                                                                           

Everyday I lie. I lie about my age, my name, my life, my favorite color, my family, my job. I lie. 

When I met you, I could hardly keep the lies and the truths separated. But I didn’t lie. To you, I did not lie. You knew my name, my age, my favorite color. You knew my fears and my sorrows and my favorite books. You, I told everything. In my world of lies you were my one truth. 

“I cherish you,” truth. 

“I am yours,” truth. 

“I am not a liar,” lie. 

“I do not lie to you,” truth. 

You kept up with my lies, your hand in mine when we met someone new. Your hand on my back as a gentle reminder of who I am. You helped me, you encouraged me to tell the truth. 

“Let them know who you are,” you whispered. 

“I don’t know who I am.”

“You are Theodora Tornsey. Not Fiona, or Sienna, or Marlow. You love the color green and you are a writer. You hate pears and you can't stand the smell of peppers. You wear a locket with a piece of scrap paper in it. You are Theodora.” 

It was your words that grounded me, that kept me barred from that false reality I created, the world filled with lies and fabrications and misery. The world of mazes and tunnels and secrets. 

You kept me in the true world, where you were. The world with the sun you made jealous, your light shining brighter than it ever was, In all its centuries of burning. I always told you candles faltered as you walked by, and you laughed and made me fall in love all over again. 

The stars would damn themselves to shine like you. 

You would never yell when you heard me tell a lie. You never glared, or scolded, or frowned. You only whispered my name to me, only whispered my truths. The truths I could only bear telling you. You carried my truths with pride, like I was the most important person in the entire universe. But I wasn’t. You were. 

As time went on, I felt the lies I itched to tell worm their way to my tongue, begging to leave. To bloom, to grow, to harm. When you looked away, I recited my truths. 

I am Theodora Tornsey. I love green and I am a writer. I hate pears and the smell of peppers. My locket has a piece of scrap paper in it. I love him. I am Theodora. 

I had not told a lie in two months. Two months with all my truths. You told me you wanted to celebrate. 

“For truths well told,” you said. 

Lie. Lie. Lie. Lie. Lie. Lie. Lie. Lie. 

I could think of nothing but lying. Lying to you and seeing what you would do. How you would trust what I say. 

Lie. Lie. Lie. Lie. Lie. Lie. Lie. Lie. 

And so I did. 

You asked me what I wanted, and I told you about a purse. I told you it was gray and I had seen it in a little corner store. You smiled and promised you would get it for me. You promised you would get it right then, and as you turned I choked on my truths. My insides hurt with the lie, and I wanted to tell you that there is no bag, no corner store. I wanted to tell you that I was sorry and that I love you. I wish I could tell you I never wanted to hurt you. 

I tried to go home and forget about what I told you. I pretended it didn’t matter because nothing would happen to you. You would come home confused and apologetic that you couldn’t find it. I would laugh it off and tell you it's alright, there are other purses in the world. And maybe, one day when we're old I would tell you I lied. I held on to that, the hope of a life together and the promise of a someday truth. 

When you hadn’t come back yet, I started to get worried. 

Is he trying too hard?

I decided to go find you, texting you while I left home. You didn’t answer. 

This was stupid, you’re stupid. He has done nothing but love you and you lied. 

Still no reply, I walked through traffic as fast as I could to get to the address I gave you. The corner store that does not exist. I called you now, begging through the dial tone. I was scared you were mad and that you left. You trusted me and I lied. After two months the only lie I told was to you. I am still sorry. Whenever I think of you I am sorry. 

I called you again, crying now. I called your name though the streets. I heard your voicemail, the one we made together. I listened to your laugh, the way it cracks when you throw your head back. 

I hear your ringtone now. I hear that song, the one that came on when you drove me home, the day I told you I love you. I never liked that song until I heard you sing it. I told you I love it. 

The music is exactly where you are. I ran to you, cradling your head. 

“Open your eyes, oh my god open your eyes.”

By some miracle you did, whispering my name. 

“You lied,” you choked out. 

I told you I was sorry. So, so, sorry. You smiled that smile, a little dimmer than before. 

Tell him. Tell him what he is and tell him right now. 

“You are my light. I loved you more than I could ever lie about. You are my truth. I love you.” 

He smiled. He smiled. He smiled. He smiled. 

“I’ll shine on you, my darling. My theodora.” 

You were gone. That light burned out and the memory of your last smile still lingered on your face. Even the sun dimmed, mourning for her lost competition. You are gone. 

I cried as they collected your body. 

I cried when I walked home. 

I cried for another two weeks. 

I will cry for you the rest of my life. 

The rest of my miserable, lie-filled life. 

I see our home, reminiscent of our truths. 

It’s been three months. Three months since I held you, three months since I’ve said my truths. I miss you. I think I always will. Every night I look at the stars. Finding you. You are always right above the tree in the backyard you always liked, shining brighter than the others. 

 I went out today. I tried my best to smile. I went for coffee, that place you always liked. I like it more now, knowing you were there. Knowing people stared at your smile, warmed with your laugh. I went to the counter and ordered an iced almond milk latte, your favorite. The barista asked me for my name. I froze for a second, choking on the lies and the truths. She was watching me, so I told her the first thing that came to mind. 

“Theodora.”