The Convenience of Lies (8 page)

“Wow, this is sharp,” I agree.

Ramon nods incredulously at me. We silently admire the knife for a while, Ramon rotating it around in his hands with comfort that could only be shown by a person who has incredible knowledge and expertise with the art of handling a knife.

With this apparent lull in the conversation, I know that this is my chance to talk to Ramon. If I don't take my chance now, then I am not going to get it again, and what I planned for the day would be ruined.

“Ramon,” I say as I feel myself go cold. It is like my voice is coming from somewhere else, most definitely not out of my mouth. The butterflies are back in full force; I feel my insides wilt. My fear is starting to get the better of me. Ramon is looking at me, and I know he is waiting and confused about this pregnant pause. Finally I hear a voice that doesn't seem to belong to me say a line that I have been practicing over and over. I want him to think I came up with this idea all on my own without the help of anyone else. “I have noticed that you have a reason for just about everything you do. And well, from what you do around me, it seems like you like me, like more than friends. But, you have not done anything about it. You know that I've liked you for like forever, and I want to know what your reason is for not asking me out.”

“Who told you that?” Ramon asked me.

He didn't fall for my carefully rehearsed line. But, I see a new door open, and turn the situation back on him. “So it's true!” Ramon looks suddenly uncomfortable, as if he has been exposed, but doesn't deny it. He realizes he has unintentionally confirmed the rumor I had heard. I relish at the idea that I am getting the upper hand in this conversation. There is a long pause in which I feel like I'm bursting. I've been waiting for four days to hear what he has to say, and I don't think I can wait any longer. “What's your reason?” He doesn't say anything. Doesn't he realize that at some point he's going to have to respond? The situation isn't going to just disappear if he doesn't say anything. I decide to ask another burning question, perhaps give him something else to think about so that this conversation will move forward. “How come you went out with Alicia, but not me?”

Finally he feels like responding, “I don't know. I just did.” This doesn't seem like a fulfilling answer.

“You went out with her just for the heck of it?” He nods. My heart takes a leap. So, Ramon never even really liked Alicia; he liked me the whole time. This day is going exactly as I had envisioned it. Now that we have confirmed that Ramon
does
like me, I need to get at the second part of my question.

“But why can't you go out with me? What's wrong with me that wasn't bad about Alicia?” The questions that have been swirling around in my head the past few days are just tumbling out of my mouth. I can't stop them now that the floodgates have opened. I just can't make sense of how Ramon is behaving.

“It is more a problem with me.” Ramon says, while fiddling with the knife.

“What? If you tell me, then I can help you with it, but if you don't, then we can't get anywhere.” Ramon remains silent. He is not being very forthcoming, and it's getting to be more than I can bear. I am beside myself with so many emotions running rampant throughout my body; I can't contain them anymore. I start to feel a tear trickle down my face, and Ramon acts as if he doesn't even notice it. This whole situation seems so unfair. “But Ramon, this is the second time a guy I've liked has ever liked me back. I can't stand not doing anything about it.”

“Who was the first time?” He asks, changing the topic.

“My ex,” I say, grimacing at the memories of almost four years ago. “Please Ramon; this doesn't happen that often. This is just not fair.” I can tell that Ramon will not relent. He has his problem, and he won't share it with me, and I feel like I'm at a loss for what to do. I was so ready to use my problem solving skills, and now they have become incapacitated. Ramon's insistent silence is making it impossible for me to do anything, and it is just not right for a guy and a girl to openly know they have feelings for each other, and not get together. All of my careful planning, all of my energy, have been wasted. Nothing will be resolved before Kira returns from Russia.

Ramon pockets the knife as we head back to my car in silence. There is nothing more to say. We have reached an impasse. Regardless, Ramon looks distraught. Perhaps he really does feel bad. Perhaps he feels barred from being with the girl he truly loves due to powers he can't control. Either way, my heart feels cold. I have been denied, and I don't even know why. I want Ramon to know that there are always other options, always ways to bring two people who are in love together. As I think this while we are driving home, “All My Life” by K-Ci and JoJo comes on the radio. It has always reminded me of Ramon. Kira was the one who introduced me to the song, and I have loved it ever since.

“You are the only one, my everything. And for you this song I sing.” The song cries out into the dark crevasse between me and Ramon. I crank it up, hoping that he will get the idea, and to prevent any more conversation.

As I play this song, I feel my heart melt with every lyric. It so poignantly represents the tragedy of our situation – a tragedy that Ramon and I could fix if he would work together with me. Love can rise above anything.

I keep giving Ramon sideways glances, hoping that he's catching on to what I'm trying to communicate. He seems quiet and thoughtful; I can't figure out what's on his mind. I crank up the song even louder. At this point he can't do anything but ignore it. I pull up to the curb at his house and say, “Get the picture?”

He seems confused, “What?” How could he be that dense? The song is practically screaming at him. If he can't figure it out, I certainly don't want to sit here and explain it. It's an emotion that I can't put into words.

“Never mind,” I tell him, right before I drive off. I wonder if it's safe for me to be driving because my vision has suddenly become cloudy as tears build up in my eyes. Finally I can let out that mixture of emotions that have been wreaking havoc on my mind all evening. I had wanted so badly for him to understand my actions. As more tears stream down my cheeks, I try to come up with a simple way that I can explain “the point” to Ramon. I want the explanation to be short and sweet.

When I get home, I have come up with the perfection explanation and text him, “The music was the picture.”

“Awww. Mackenzie, the reason is that if we were to get together, we could break up, and then our bond wouldn't be as strong. That's what happened with Kira, and I would rather have you as a good friend, than lose you.”

I cry even harder.

King is staring at Newbie's Alpine stereo as they sit parked on the side of the freeway. “The way you get away with a crime is you don't tell anyone that you did it,” King says knowingly.

“
But what if someone asks if you did it?” inquires the Newbie.

“
You just tell them that you didn't do it. They'll ask 'really' and all you have to say is 'Really, I didn't do it.' Then they will just nod their head, and believe you. They will only ask once or twice, and you just have to get through that, and that's it.” King gets a thrill just talking about it.

Newbie's eyes widen. “But, that doesn't make it right.”

“
It doesn't matter if it's right or wrong. All that matters is if you can. If you ****can
*
* do something, what difference does it make?” King asks rhetorically.

“
But what about the person you're stealing from?
”

“
It doesn't matter. Who cares what they think?!” King spits out vehemently. Newbie is such a push-over, and this is NOT the time to be talking about it.

Newbie furrows his brows, but nods his head.

King is getting impatient, “Okay, you ready to get started?”

Despite the fact he's gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white, Newbie says resolutely, “Yes. I'll be waiting here for you.”

King gets out of the car, and walks down the nearby off ramp as he puts on his sunglasses and pulls a black, form-fitting mask over his face. Just to the right of the off ramp is a Target, sporting an outdoor Garden section that's right next to the freeway. King walks directly into the Garden section where his other Puppet is working the cash register alone.

Puppet sees King arrive, checks to see if there's a manager around, and starts opening the register as his hands tremble with nervous excitement. It's the end of the day when the register will have the most cash. Once King gets there, Puppet passes off the money, King takes it, and immediately starts running back out the way he came.

Puppet starts following emergency procedures used in the case of theft, just as King instructed him to, to cover up Puppet's compliance. “Code Red in Garden, Code Red in Garden,” he calls over the intercom. Then he picks up the telephone and dials 911…

King arrives at Newbie's car parked on the freeway, rips off the mask, out of breath from sprinting. “Get Going. NOW!” he yells.

Newbie has already started up the engine and starts merging onto the freeway. They disappear into the rest of the rushing traffic. They will be miles away before the police arrive at Target.

The crime went just as King knew it would.

Still feeling a rush from his recent endeavor, King goes back to staring at Newbie's Alpine stereo, wondering how much it would sell for on EBay.

I gasp for air as my throat tightens up. My mom and I just got into a fight. I stop running so that I can try to breathe as I wipe a tear off of my face. I feel lonely. I feel like I have nobody in the world who understands me. Just last night I was talking to Ramon at Fountain Park, and that was a disaster. I've just arrived at the elementary school by my house. It is deserted. I look around through my tears for a good place to be by myself to cry, and my eyes land on nearby a tower in the playground. It's painted in bright colors and has a couple of slides coming off of it, one twisted one and one straight one. I climb on top of the tower and sit there, sobbing.

Kira is the only one who I want to confide in regarding the drama from last night. But, after what went down the night before Kira left for Russia, I have no idea if I will EVER be able to confide in her again. All I can think about is how much I am yearning for her friendship and company, to be able to tell her everything that's going on in my life. I had wanted to visit her in Russia so badly, and I despise the fact that I've lost the opportunity of a lifetime because of the uncertainty surrounding our friendship. It is killing me not having that fight resolved. I wonder what would have happened if I had gone to Russia despite the fight, scared to know what the answer would be.

I feel like there is a gaping hole in my heart. As I sit on this tower in the middle of a large field, I look up at the blue, cloudless sky. I know that this same sky will make an appearance in Russia, and I have a sense that it is the only connection I have with Kira. My loneliness is magnified. It has been almost two months since she left, and I still don't know if Kira has been upset with me this whole time. I sorely miss her, spending time with her, talking to her about my feelings. I know that right now, she would listen to me, validate me, and make me feel better. But, I really don't know that. I don't know if when she returns, Kira and I will still have the same friendship. At the thought, I double up and cry even harder. I wish I had answers. I wish there was a way I could talk to her, but there's still almost a month until she returns. I don't know how long I can last with this pain of not knowing and of feeling so alone. I wish I could tell Kira how much I miss her, and how much I wish I could talk to her. But I can't. All I can do now is let myself cry it out and wonder.

As these thoughts are flying through my head, my cell phone starts to ring. I check the caller ID and see that Shane is calling. I pick up the phone to hear Shane asking me, “Do you want to come over? Cody is here right now.” I realize this is a way to distract myself from my depression, to have company, and to avoid my mom while I'm cooling off.

“Sure, I'll come right over.” I walk back to my car. Soon thereafter, I am knocking on Shane's door.

As soon as I get there, Shane tells me, “Cody and I are watching porn.”

“That's nice,” I say disdainfully.

“What?! You don't like porn?” Shane says in disbelief.

“I don't know; it's just not for me.” I am above that kind of thing; I am not a pervert.

Shane looks incredulous. “You know, there are all sorts of different types of porn.” I roll my eyes. By this time we have reached Shane's bedroom, and Cody puts aside his guitar to give me a hug. He clings on a little too long for comfort. Shane ejects the VHS tape he was watching with Cody and inserts a new one. The porn begins with a scene in a living room. There is a guy and a girl, fully clothed, talking to each other from opposite sides of the room. “See, Mackenzie, this is porn!”

“Really?!” As I raise my eyebrows, I can hear the tone of surprise in my own voice. “But they're not… doing anything,” I manage to stammer out.

“That's what I'm telling you! There's usually a plot in porn. It's not just people having sex,” Shane says as if he's just blown my inexperienced mind out of the water.

I am having trouble believing this is an example of porn. But at the same time, I feel a bit dirty watching it anyway. But for now, I can tolerate it.

Cody changes the topic, which he seems to always like to do, as I sit down next to him on Shane's bed. “Mackenzie, have you ever played a guitar before?”

“No, I haven't.”

“Wouldn't it be awesome to see Mackenzie playing the guitar?!” Cody snickers this question to Shane.

Shane agrees, “That would be awesome! Give the guitar to Mackenzie!”

As Cody starts unraveling himself from the guitar to give it to me, I comment, “No really, it's fine. I don't want to.” I feel genuinely adverse to the idea of trying to play a guitar because there's no way I could learn in this kind of setting. I would rather try it at home with a proper teacher.

“But it would be awesome!” Cody insists.

Shane contributes, “Yeah! Do it Mackenzie!”

Despite my objections, pretty soon I find myself with a guitar in my lap. Cody hands me a pick. “Hold this in your right hand, and with your left hand put one finger here,” he grabs my hand and starts to place my fingers where he wants them on the guitar, his body close to mine. I can't help but think that Cody is just making an excuse to touch me. “Now, strum with the pick.”

I pass the pick over the strings, and it sounds terrible. “You need to press the strings harder with your left hand!” Shane contributes. I push harder on the strings and try again. The sound is much better, but dang! That hurts my fingers. I can't imagine trying this again. I think it's unfathomable that anybody would be able to play a whole song through the pain.

The boys don't notice my discomfort and start whooping and laughing. “That was awesome!” I'm glad they're entertained, at least?

“We need to take a picture of Mackenzie with that guitar!” Cody declares. He whips a camera out of nowhere, and starts framing his shot.

“Here, wear this cowboy hat!” Shane says, as he drops a hat that is really too big for me on my head. It is threatening to cover up my eyebrows. I'm feeling rather ridiculous; this look is totally not me. But, the two of them are getting so much enjoyment out of this and are so enthusiastic, I decide to just go along with it. I smile for the picture as Cody snaps away. The boys express their delight with each click of the camera, and I have to admit, I am enjoying the attention. I glance at the television and notice that the couple has moved from talking to each other to making out on the sofa in the living room. I am cool with watching people make-out, but even so, I adjust how I'm sitting so that the TV is not in my field of view. As I do this, I find myself wondering how far this porno will go.

After he's done taking pictures, Cody sits down right next to me. Our legs are touching. “Can I have one of your Cheeze-Its, Mackenzie?” Cody inquires of me. After the boys have forced me to watch porn, play the guitar, and dressed me up in this get-up to take pictures of me, I am not feeling too inclined to do them favors… regardless of how much I enjoy the attention.

“No, these Cheeze-Its are mine,” I say, protectively drawing the bag in closer to my body. As I do so, I hear moaning start to come out of the television from the porn. I carefully keep my eyes averted from the screen.

“Oh, come on Mackenzie. Give Cody a Cheeze-It,” Shane insists. I wish that guys would understand that “no” means “no.” Grr.

“You guys made me play the guitar and wear a cowboy hat. I don't think so.”

“Don't tell me you didn't like that, because we know you did.” Cody has just called me out, though the truth is that I have mixed feelings. I don't love what they were doing to me, but I relished in their attention.

Shane saves me from having to answer, “Cody, wouldn't it be funny if you ate one out from between her toes!?”

“I don't know about that,” I interject. Perhaps they will listen to me this time? Cody eating a Cheeze-It from between my toes sounds really unsanitary, and I'm not sure if I want him to. I don't want to give him any ideas about how I feel for him, and I don't particularly want his spit all over my feet. Gross!

“That would be funny! I don't know if I would actually do it.” Cody is snickering.

“Come on Cody, do it! It would be hilarious!” Shane asserts. He snatches my bag of Cheeze-Its from me and puts one between my big toe and the next toe. It looks like I have been commandeered into another one of their antics. Both the boys are laughing, and I'm trying to act indifferent. Then, to my surprise, Cody starts kneeling on the floor in front of my foot. When Cody starts nibbling at the Cheeze-It, I completely lose my composure. It tickles! I'm laughing, the boys are laughing, and I can't believe this is actually happening.

I glance at the television and see that our couple is now doing something that I don't even know how to name on that couch. I suddenly stop laughing and my eyes bug out. Then I close them and look away as fast as possible. “Shane!” Do we have to keep watching this?!”

“What!? The porn???” He asks me in his typical incredulous voice.

“What do you think? Yes, the porn,” I snap at him.

“What's wrong with it?” Shane asks, standing next to the TV and gesturing at it.

I take a peek, and instantly close my eyes, wrinkling my nose in disgust. “Because it's nasty; I don't want to watch it,” I insist. Cody gets up from the floor, still licking his lips after eating that Cheeze-It.

“These are just two people expressing their love. Isn't that a good thing?” Shane poses this question to me with an air that communicates he thinks he just won this battle.

Now I can hear the man grunting as well as the lady. Trying to tune them out, and trying to compete with their noise, I ask, “Can you please turn it off?”

“I don't see why I should. It's good for you Mackenzie.” Shane seems to be jeering at me with his big grin.

“You're really not going to turn it off?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. He should know he's walking a dangerous line. Shane just shakes his head, his eyes wide. “Okay, then I'm going to go home. Enjoy it without me.” The last thing I see as I leave the room is Cody giving me these puppy eyes that scream, “Don't go! I want to be with you.” However, I ignore his nonverbal plea and leave anyway.