I Lied When I Said I Didn't Love You

What?

Oh no. Mike, you fool! From every corner of my mind, nerves sent out panicked messages to the rest of my body, not quite believing in what I had just done. Was I crazy? Had I forgotten to listen to my brain? My nerves seemed to gossip together like old women, causing my muscles to spasm and tremor as they shrieked in my protests against my misdeeds.

I had to say, I was on the brink of agreeing with them and making a run for it.

The fight or flight response pelted me with adrenaline, waiting for me to either continue my suicidal mission of stupidity or sprint out of the office. I didn’t know which one to obey. All I could do was stare defiantly at the front of the office, where my friends were staring at me like I had just appeared wearing a tutu and asking them to called me “Miss Lolita, M’am!”. Tre’s polar eyes were so wide, I thought they were going to drop out of their sockets and roll down the aisle to ask me what the fuck I thought I was doing. Billie’s expression shook me up more. His mouth was completely slack; his eyebrows clenched together so tight that it looked painful.

I was screwing him up again. I was selfishly screwing him up and ruining his chance at happiness! Why did I always have to sabotage him? Why-

Mike, I thought to myself in an inner voice made of steel, you have been asking those questions for years. Maybe instead of repeatedly asking them, you should try and answer yourself for once.

I was sabotaging him because I wanted to be happy too. I was ruining his wedding because I believed he was making a big mistake. I repeatedly ruined his life because-

I loved him. That was the beginning and the ending of it. I had always loved him, and never stopped loving him, no matter what I told myself to stop insanity invading. I craved his sentiments, I craved his touch- I even craved his infidelity! His perfections, his flaws- everything I missed, everything I wanted back to keep close to my heart. How could she have him, when I felt so strongly deserving? My feelings had to have meant something!

Whoa, Mike, take a hold of yourself, I told myself, feeling a reminder of the alcohol I consumed give me a kick in the head and send me reeling. I grabbed onto the back of the chair in front of me, taking a minute to force the vomit rising in my throat back into the dank depths of my stomach. If I was about to stride down that aisle in a blaze of selfish glory, I was not about to vomit down my tux. Or on any of the guests, who I now realised were also staring at me in shock and disgust. Could they detect I was drunk just by looking at me? Or was my beer-breath truly that terrible?

So much for being dignified.

As I again foolishly let my eyes drift over Billie’s horrified face, a sharp pang went through my heart like a sting from a bitter wasp. What right did I have to ruin his happiness? He had made it clear she was the one many times. Couldn’t I lie down and respect that? I had lost so much of him already- this gesture would only see me lose more. Why was I thinking about making such a stupid gamble?

All these questions had already been answered, yet they would not stop twirling around my head! How funny- I actually loved Billie so much that I didn’t think I could be with him. What I wanted most conflicted with my reluctance to hurt him in any way, physically or emotionally. It tore strips off my heart to see him go through anything painful. And yet… The very same sensation happened if I thought about him kissing his bride, walking away into the blissful future without me beside him. I needed him. I needed him so badly that it nearly killed me.

The question was, what did he need? Me?

Or her?

My heart hammered against my Adam’s apple as I swallowed painfully. The silence in the room was overwhelming, crushing down around my ears like the depths of the sea around a foolish submarine. They were all waiting for me to say my piece, I realised, a cold drop of sweat slithering down my neck from behind my ear. That was the reason why I stood up- to make a statement of why the beautiful young couple could not be wed. Only, was I sure I wanted to make a statement? Was it too late to say “never mind” and sit back down?

All this indecision was taking its toll on my body. Around my armpits I could feel the steady drenching of my shirt, the formally pure white material fighting to soak up my secretions. My hands were shaking so much that the chair I was clinging onto was rattling with them! It sounded like Tre was trying to do a drum solo on the floor. I quickly removed my hands from the chair, eager to stop the offending noise. The silence crashed down upon me again. I cleared my throat- more to make a type of noise then to prepare for any great big speeches.

“Uh…” I mumbled stupidly, sneaking a glance back upward to Billie’s startled face. Behind his frozen figure, I could see Tre shaking his head in warning, trying to send me a silent message. Don’t do it, Mike, you’ll regret it for sure!

Did I really need another regret to add to my list?

Ghosts of the past flashed into my empty mind, filling out the spaces with their shallow breaths. How many regrets did I have stored down memory lane, all still taking their toll on my life? Would one more regret make such a big difference? It could either crush me or nullify my past. That was one big gamble. Love or sanity. Sanity or love. What to do? What to do?

Don’t do it, Michael. Be a man- sit back down on your chair, grit your teeth and let him marry her. He’d be happy. Isn’t that what you want? For him to be happy? If you really love him, you’ll let him go-

But… When do I get to be happy?

Looking at his wide emerald eyes, I felt something stir in my chest, almost provoking a film of tears into rising over my eyes. Who knew if he would really be happy with her? I couldn’t sacrifice my own feelings for something that could end in vain. Plus, the selfish part of me did not like the thought of letting him go at all. It wanted to cling to him like a limpet on a rock, never budging even though the tide may beat upon in. It wanted me to fight for my prize- to win by whatever means necessary. Public humiliation didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. If I won…

I would finally end this vicious cycle.

The time to sit back and be a “man” was over. I stood up. I made the objection. It had to be followed through now. The turning point was passed. The options were do or die. And I don’t know about you, but the second one didn’t appeal to me very much.

Go on, Dirnt, I growled to myself, drinking in that devil-may-care passion that was slowly filling my heart. Get your ass up there, and tell that boy your secret. Tell him so he knows you speak the truth. Look into those grassy fields and confess, before all is lost!

It was funny how my brain managed to fuse tough guy talk and almost Shakespearian sentiments together at the most pressured times.

With an almighty effort, I lifted one foot, placing it carefully on the carpeted aisle. Good move- I hadn’t fallen yet, even though my head was threatening to pitch off my shoulders. I felt every eye in the room suddenly regain focus and zoom onto my figure. Oh great. More staring, just what I needed to boost my confidence. You’d think they would have a little respect for a man either about to win back his love or ruin three lives. Well, four, if you count Tre. Not that I thought he’d be very affected by me fucking up this wedding. In fact, he would probably be the only one making jokes about it in the aftermath.

Oh God. Why was I doing this?

My second foot was now on the carpet. I took a shuddering breath, lifting my eyes from the ground and staring stonily at the front of the room. This was it- the proverbial step off a crumbling cliff. Sink or swim. Fight or flight. I took another step, my eyes still fixed to the wall. Whispers washed over my ears like small tsunamis, reminding me of every person watching my triumph/failure. I was nuts. I couldn’t really be doing this! Right? Right?

No. I was doing this, and I fully understood the reason why. Love- yes, as clichéd as it sounds, I was ready to sacrifice anything for love. Ha. My reasoning sounded like a crappy pop song.

Another few steps and I was almost there. Billie was waiting, a tight smile now on his lips as he watched me warily approach the raised platform. Adrienne looked about ready to kill me. Her hands clenched her lily-white dress, almost tearing the material. Her eyes burnt black as she stared at me, something primal in her hateful gaze. I was ruining her special day. The wedding is all about the bride, after all. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

The small stair provided a challenge, I must admit. My foot caught on the front of the step, pitching me forward- and almost into a flower display. Luckily Tre was there, otherwise I would’ve made an even bigger mockery of myself then I already was planning to. His square hands grabbed my shoulders, roughly hoisting me back into a standing position. As my feet resumed contact with the ground he gave me a disapproving glare.

”What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, forcing my upper body down until I could almost count every blackhead on his nose. An artic freeze shimmered from his eyes as he glared at me.

“I-“ I began, trying to pull my face away from his. Tre just pulled me closer, sniffing quickly at my breath. He quickly pulled his face away in disgust, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he sampled my beer breath.

“Mike, you’re drunk!” he whispered angrily, his eyes stealing a quick glance to the rest of the room. Using his vice-like hold on my shoulders, he propelled me away from Billie and Adrienne, ducking behind the flower arrangement that had almost claimed my dignity. He took a moment to give the audience a forced reassuring smile before yanking me out of view. Just some technical difficulties, folks! As far as the audience was concerned, I was a mere blip on the great TV screen, a mindless piece of static trying to interfere with the big picture. Tre was the mechanic- and his preferred method of fixing things was to thump some sense into them.

“You aren’t even supposed to be here- let alone drunkenly making objections! What the fuck is up with you?”

Each harsh word was delivered with the aid of a rough shake. I struggled to stop my head from hitting the back of the floral display- but not as much as I struggled to stop myself puking on Tre. The alcohol was barely half way through my system, after all. I gave Tre a burning stare, lifting my hand to his chin and giving him a gentle push backwards.

“I need to do this,” I said simply, removing my hand from his face and waiting for his reaction. Tre swore quietly, rubbing roughly at the spot where I had touched him, like it was contaminated. His eyes dropped, his jaw set into an unbreakable grimace.

“Do what, Mike?” he asked tiredly, speaking directly to the floor. “Make a fool of yourself? Give Bill even more of a reason to avoid you? Look, maybe he’ll forgive you down the track, if you give him some time and space. But I’ll tell you something- unless you get your ass back down into that seat and shut up, there won’t be any ‘down the track’!”

“You don’t understand, Tre-“

“I understand plenty, Mike. I’m not as dumb as I look. And I’m telling you, from what I understand-“

“I love him.”

I didn’t know what possessed me to say those exact three words to him, but the effect was imminent. Tre’s head lifted his head, his eyes shooting up from the floor. His breath drew in with a sharp hiss, catching in his throat. He bit the inside of his cheek as he resumed eye contact with me, obviously searching for something, anything, to say.

“Mike,” he began weakly, glancing over my shoulder at the overpowering floral decorations. “This has been eating you up for years, I know-“

“No Tre,” I interrupted. “You don’t know. You never knew.”

”I did-“

“No, you didn’t. Otherwise, why’d you get me drunk and fuck me?”

An ugly blush spread like wildfire up Tre’s pallid skin. He cleared his throat awkwardly, tugging at the collar of his shirt. I shouldn’t have said that- I didn’t mean to say that, but again, the effect was imminent. I didn’t want to bring that up. In fact, I never really wanted to think about it ever again, but-

Desperate times called for desperate measures. Even if it meant kicking a friend below the proverbial belt.

“Look, it wasn’t my fault you got drunk-“

“Oh yeah? ‘Just drink, okay?’” I mimicked him cruelly, using the memories that were permanently stuck in my head from that terrible time. I felt a small, hard ball of emotion rise in my chest and quickly squashed it by remembering that dark room, and the suddenly brush of his bare chest against my back…

“I- I was drunk too!” Tre stammered, his shoulders squaring awkwardly under his oversized jacket. “We were both drunk- we didn’t know what we were doing-“

“Well, you’ve just got to think back, Tre,” I whispered, all too aware of the rising sound of murmuring voices from the other side of the flower arrangement. “Who made the first move? Who crawled into my bed?”

His mouth dropped open soundlessly at this statement, his tongue lying motionless like a lazy pink slug. A betrayed look entered his eyes. We hadn’t talked about it before- this was the first time we’d been forced to actually acknowledge that we fucked. I promised myself I would never use my words so barbarically, never to cause Tre pain about that stupid mistake. That dark night was to be kept under lock and key, under a forgotten combination in a secure safe. But I had picked the look, and bashed in the safe with a steel pipe. I was talking about it, and I was making Tre hurt.

I wouldn’t say I didn’t care. I did care- I cared a lot. Every second I spent looking at his disbelieving face carved scars onto my retinas, providing me with a barrel filled with memories I didn’t want to keep. With every beat of my heart it felt like a piece of glass was being squeezed into the flesh, the organ weeping blood for my cold statements.

I’m sorry, Tre…

Without another harsh word, I pulled his hands away from my shoulders, straightening up and walking back out from behind the bright flowers. As soon as I made my appearance, the whispering stopped, a thousand eyes flickering to my face. Ha. They must have realised I was actually going to say something and shut up. How courteous of them. Now, if only they’d stop staring. Maybe I could request for them to all face the other way while I said my piece- no that would be stupid.

Eyes or no eyes, it would be the best option to just get it over and done with.

I closed my own eyes for a moment, looking inwards to gather my motives and courage. Flashes of images played through my head- of him and me. Us kissing. Us laughing. Us crying together. How could he have just moved on from all that emotion, all we’d been through? Didn’t he ever sometimes wonder if things could’ve been different? Did it ever plague his thoughts late at night, about how things were and could have been?

But with the good memories came the bad. Flashes of me, bending him over my countertop. Flashes of him, beating me up in a hospital room. Him, struck down by the car. Me, throwing up blood onto the floor. Could he see past my faults, my crazy actions? Was it possible for him to still love me, even though so much badness had passed between us?

You’re questioning yourself again, Mike. If you keep questioning yourself, you aren’t going to get anywhere. But who knows? Maybe you are right to question. Maybe you should be asking yourself about Billie’s feelings. Look at him, Mike. He doesn’t love you any more, and he doesn’t need you any more. Why are you still standing up? Crawl back to your seat. Save your friendship!

Save my friendship? Friendship! I didn’t want a “friendship”!

There you go again, Mike, being completely selfish. Be glad for what you have. Go sit down. Forget about him. There are plenty of other people out there.

Yes, there were plenty of other people out there. Hell- I’d met some of them. But I didn’t feel the same way about them. They… They didn’t make sense to me one moment, then completely confuse me the next. They didn’t manage to make me want to laugh and start sobbing at the exact same time. Their words didn’t lift and crush my heart. Their eyes didn’t influence and repel me. They weren’t Billie. I wanted him, and him only, for every sin I had committed felt like it was for his sake and his only. He was my path to sanity, to wholeness. I couldn’t stop wanting him if I tried.

Go back to your seat-

No. I wasn’t going back to my seat, now or ever. I was going to stand up in front of the crowd. I would have no secrets, no lies to hide behind. It would be just him and me, against the world. Nothing was as important. Not my reputation, not my friends, not anything in the whole universe! Passion erupted through my veins, causing me to straighten my shoulders and lift my head in defiance. My words would only be the truth. No more lies.

No more lying.

Billie stood only a metre away from me on the small stage, his slight figure seeming to be framed by a golden light. He looked so beautiful, so untouchable- so… sad, almost. As I gazed at him like a faithful worshipper, everything else in the room faded away. The only thing in focus was his angelic face- every other detail just crowded around into a vague, jumbled blur. All the vague sounds of breathing melted away from my ears, save for my own. There he was, waiting for me to save him. Waiting for me to give him a reason not to plunge, waiting for me to tell him the truth.

I shakily stepped forward, forcing him to acknowledge me, forcing him to look at me. His eyes sought me out like twin spotlights, bathing me in the same ethereal glow. Radiance oozed out of his every pour, glided over the stage in a glided path to his godly figure. I followed this path, drawing closer and closer to him with every little forced breath. How could I have ever forgotten his beauty, his stunning aura? Most people looked at him and saw a short, scruffy guy in his twenties- I saw an ageless entity that could turn everything he touched into gold. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t a commercialised beauty. To me, he was the most wondrous and complicated thing on the planet, greater then any glossy magazine model and any star-studded Hollywood icon.

Mere centimetres of air parted us now. Our eyes were connected by golden thread, pulling us nearer to each other with every heartfelt second. I saw the love and hurt in his eyes- I could feel it sliding into my head over the golden threads, finding my veins and pooling into my chest. With every heart beat, it fanned out through my body, until my love and hurt was pushed out of my eyes and into his mind. A fine golden mist fell over us, hiding us from the eyes of the world. I felt my lips move- finally saying something they had known all along, even if I myself had forgotten it in the dark times I had faced.

I love you…

His eyelashes dipped for a moment, a solitary tear breaking free from one eye. He knew- he had known all along. But he had been as confused about it as I was. That tear signified everything. In that one droplet of water were all our triumphs, failures, fears, wishes, and memories. Out of every tear we had ever shed, this was the only one that truly carried everything. It was a revolutionary tear, one to wash away everything, one to renew our world. With that tear, all our stains faded and disappeared, leaving us clean and new. No more terrible scars. No more distressing memories.

No more lonely nights.

I cupped his face in my hands, taking care to mop up that beautiful drop of moisture with a trembling fingertip. He didn’t resist my touch, instead gazing up at me with those jewels of his, readily accepting anything I had to give. Trust radiated out of his stare, joining the warm glow already circling around us. He was mine. Finally, he was mine. The world could explode in a fiery burst and I wouldn’t give a damn. I had what I wanted for so very long, what I had dreamed about for almost an eternity. Everything else could go to hell. It didn’t matter to me.

With my two hands, I lifted his face, tilting it backwards with a gentle adjustment. His rosebud mouth was slightly open, his soft, soothing lips slightly parted. It was a powerful invitation- one I could not bring myself to resist. I brought my face down towards his, a tear of my own falling from my weak eyes and plopping down on his radiant skin. How many times had I played this moment over and over in my head? The kiss, the end to my perfect movie. But never had it been so overpoweringly real. The tip of my nose touched his smooth, cleanly shaved cheek. I let my eyes closed, my own mouth parting slightly as I took his invitation. Sorrow and hate fell to the wayside as I felt the pressure of his sweet mouth. It wasn’t forced or rushed. It was slow, gentle, velvety… perfection. Absolute perfection. Something of beauty and innocence- no cloak and daggers. He tasted of promise; a new life, a better world. Something to save me from myself.

This kiss was the end to my woeful saga. The last page of my book of sorrow, the last frame before the credits. It was the Armageddon, and the rebirth at the same time. I was freed from my past. The prison door was open, and the chains were unlocked. I walked into my new life an innocent man, with no heavy backpack of sorrows. Just me, my love and the endless future ahead of us walked the road. It didn’t matter where we ended up.

We had our freedom again.

And it was almost too good to be true