The Lie

Nobody likes the “other woman.” No one wants to relate to her, to empathize with her. No one likes a philandering man either, but when it comes down to it, I am their son and they’ve seen me suffer—they’ve seen my guilt and grief. I wouldn’t walk away from any confession without some form of condemnation from them, but Natasha is the one who would really be burned. They don’t know her. They don’t know what she’s been through. They don’t know how she feels about me. I want them to see all of that first before the truth comes out.

I’m protecting her, plain and simple. Protecting us, this fragile, beautiful thing we have growing between us, that gorgeous freefall I couldn’t bear to have end for any reason.

“This is it,” I tell her as the cab pulls up in front of the house.

“This is so cute,” she coos, staring out the window with wide eyes at the house, the iron gate and stone wall, the overflowing squash and kale in the gardens.

We grab our bags and the cabbie speeds off just as my mother flings open the door.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were already here? I could have picked you up!” she exclaims with wide eyes, sounding both angry and excited.

“I didn’t want to trouble you,” I tell her, putting my hand at the small of Natasha’s back and ushering her in through the gate.

“Brigs, you know you’re no trouble at all,” she says, pressing her hands together as she smiles broadly at Natasha. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t have met you at the train. My son has an awful habit of being so secretive about things.”

Natasha and I quickly exchange a glance. “It’s no worry at all,” she says smoothly. “It’s very nice to meet you. You have a lovely home. And a lovely son.”

Now my mother is positively beaming at me. “Isn’t she darling?” she asks. “Natasha. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”

“What is this, another one?” my dad says, leaning against the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets. “First Lachlan brings home a pretty gal and now our other son does. We’re going to be the most popular house on the street.”

“Don’t mind my father,” I tell Natasha. “I take after him. See those glasses? He’s a nerd at heart who never quite figured out why a woman like my mother took any interest in him.”

“Hey,” my mother admonishes, walking back up the path to the steps and eyeing me over her shoulder. “A smart woman knows a good catch when she sees one. Seems Natasha is just as smart as the rest of us.”

We go inside the house and my father runs our bags up to my old bedroom until we figure out later who is sleeping where.

“Lachlan and Kayla will be here in an hour,” she says. “They’re doing a fundraiser at the shelter today. A car wash.”

“I’ve heard a lot about Ruff Love,” Natasha says as she takes a seat on the couch and my mother starts pouring everyone tea and getting out the ubiquitous shortbread cookies.

“Well, they’re definitely influential enough to get Brigs to adopt a dog. How is Winter doing anyway?” my mother asks me as she sits down.

I shrug. “Sheds everywhere. Shits everywhere. Nothing’s changed.”

She shakes her head, unimpressed.

“You want the truth?” Natasha asks her, leaning forward in a conspiratorial voice. “He’s in love with that dog. Treats him like a baby.”

“Oh, bloody hell,” I exclaim. “I do not.”

“You do,” she says, eyes sparkling. “You can’t see it because you’re in it, but you dote on that dog like nothing else.” She looks back to my mother. “When I’m not over, the dog sleeps with Brigs, in bed, under the covers.”

My mother lets out a laugh, obviously loving this. “Is that true?”

“My flat is very drafty,” I explain, busying myself with the tea.

“And he hires this woman to walk him that fusses over him just as much. I’m pretty sure she carries a row of sausages in her purse, just like an old cartoon. Believe me, Brigs may act like he hates that dog, but Winter is spoiled like you wouldn’t believe.”

“What’s this?” My father comes in the room, sitting beside my mother.

“Nothing,” I say quickly.

“Oh, Donald, it turns out Brigs is just as bad with Winter as Lachlan is with Lionel,” she says.

“Another nut,” he mutters under his breath.

Thankfully the conversation quickly changes to all things Natasha. With her accent and her life in LA, France, and London, it’s a pretty easy segue, an even better icebreaker than “Where did you guys meet?” I was pretty vague with my mother on the phone when I called to tell her that I had met someone and wanted to bring her up to Edinburgh.

While Natasha talks about LA and film and Hollywood, I can’t help but watch her with pride. Just the way she handles herself, she’s so different from the girl I met last month, the one with fear in her eyes and the weight of the world on her shoulders. She’s charming my parents just as she charms everyone, that glow of hers making everyone around her shine. If she’s nervous at all, she doesn’t show it, and when she’s tired of talking, she deftly turns the conversation to my parents, asking a load of questions.

Before I know it, the door opens and I turn in my seat to see Lachlan and Kayla stepping in.

“You made it,” my mother calls out, getting up and going over to them. She takes off their jackets as she hangs them up.