Chapter 3 The Town’s Favorite Liar
The Town’s Favorite Liar
A wooden cutout of a dinosaur with a cowboy hat on and a hole for a face.
Until Tanner’s appears in said hole, grinning.
The crowd all around Main Street cheers me on—“Billy! Billy! Billy!”—and I have a big ol’ pie sitting on my palm.
Even Joshua and Marcus are clapping.
Tanner grits his teeth and twists his face into something of a grimace of anticipation, like a shrug without shoulders.
When I finally pitch the pie—and it shatters like cream soda over my husband’s face, all gloppy and bubbling and runny—the screams of delight around me are so loud I have to cover my ears.
I feel pats on my back from our friends and the locals, listen to their muffled congratulations, and watch the tears of laughter and fun in their eyes.
And when my husband comes out from behind the dinosaur, licking his lips and saying something I don’t catch that makes the whole crowd erupt into more laughter, I just watch him in a daze, feeling like I’m not even here.
No one knows what’s really going on with us. We’re so good at keeping secrets.
I guess I’ve officially become the town’s favorite liar.
Then I’m in front of a table full of pies, and Patsy, known for her restaurant and the creative, tasty pies it serves, eagerly awaits my verdict on a new flavor she’s debuting. I taste it and tell her it’s my favorite yet.
And that makes one more face in town I’ve won over with my soulless smile.
Next, I’m at a kiosk at the other end of Main Street joining a pair of my friends, Mindy and Joel, who are married and enjoying a rare afternoon off, taking advantage of one of their parents who were eager to watch over the twins at home.
We’re in the middle of commenting on some beautiful animal-shaped wood carvings for sale when Joel says, “Dunno what you’re sneakin’ into Tanner’s breakfasts, but he’s been dang chipper lately.
” Mindy chuckles her agreement and dryly adds, “You and Tanner have been horny for each other since I can remember. Good sex is the secret to a happy marriage.” She eyes Joel.
“Maybe you should take notes.” Joel lets out a laugh—until he realizes he’s the one being mocked, and his face twists right up, burning red.
I’ve known Mindy since high school, long before she and her husband were even an idea.
And even she is fooled by my subpar performance, as I attend this fundraiser, peruse all the crafts, and taste—and throw—pies.
Of all people in town to see the real me and remark about how I’m not myself lately, I was counting on her.
Maybe I’m better at faking happy than I thought.
Without warning, Joshua rushes up and crashes into my side. “Bee!” he screams. “Bee! Bee! Beeeeee!”
A very out-of-breath Marcus catches up, having chased his brother across the square. “There’s … no … bee … Joshua …”
“Yeah, there was!” He tucks himself behind me, figuring it’s better the bee gets me than him, I guess.
“It was just a fly. It’s already gone.”
“You’re lying! I saw it!”
Marcus sighs heavily. “You’re just mad because Dad didn’t let you have a—”
“Because Dad didn’t what?” asks Tanner innocently, popping up out of thin air.
He balances four ice cream cones precariously between his big hands, each one a different flavor, pink, green, chocolate, blue.
“You think I was serious when I said no sweets? C’mon, boys, you know me better.
Pick one. Fast. They’re melting. Not the green one, that’s for Papa here. ”
It’s like the bee never existed as Joshua gleefully snatches the chocolate one out of his hands—nearly causing Tanner to drop the rest—then shouts, “Thanks!” and tears off back into the festival.
Marcus picks blue, sighs out, “Thanks, Dad,” and heads off tiredly after his brother, calling, “Hey, not so fast! Watch where you’re going! You’ll run into someone!”
Tanner chuckles to himself, shakes his head, teary-eyed with laughter, then turns to me. After a moment’s hesitation, he offers the green one. “Here you go, babe. Minty chips for you.”
I take it. “You still have pie in your ear.”
“In my—?” He grabs the wrong ear, wiping. “Where?” Then he goes for the other, finds the glob of cream, wipes it, and brings it to his lips. “Damned good pie, to be honest.”
I don’t know if it’s the goofy expression he makes after licking it off his finger, or the fact that he ate it at all, but I snort, crack a smile, and look away.
Tanner’s voice comes close to my ear, sounding playful. “You seem to be smiling a lot today, despite everything.”
“Yeah,” I agree dryly. “I’m getting awful good at that.”
He pulls back. “Babe?”
Mindy and Joel left apparently, having moved on. Suddenly I need to also. “Gotta go.”
Tanner lets me, saying nothing. But his pretty eyes likely say everything. It’s been difficult to look into them lately for that very reason.
I peel off to the nearest restroom inside my ma and pa’s diner: Biggie’s Bites.
Everyone on earth seems to be packed in this place even during the festival.
I make my way through the crowd and noise, smiling and nodding at no one specific, hearing my name a few times, when suddenly I’m in the restroom and I press my back against the door, shutting it abruptly.
The world becomes muffled and far away, and it’s just me and my thoughts—and this cone of green dotted ice cream slowly melting in my hand.
My next breath feels like the first one I’ve taken all day.
Full of misgivings.
Questions, doubts, heavy thoughts, and the echoes of my children’s laughter.
Is it my imagination, or are the kids fighting more often?
Are they picking up the tension off me and Tanner? Is it my fault?
Am I the bee?
I take a lick of the ice cream. Of course it tastes perfect.
So perfect I could cry. Except I’m not gonna cry.
What reason do I have to cry? I’m the happiest guy in all of Spruce, Texas.
I’ve got two funny, adorable kids. A roof over my head with loving in-laws who can’t get enough of me.
An adoring husband I’m apparently mad at because he won’t let me leave him.
And do I really want to leave him?
Is Tanner even the problem?
Or is it me?
It wasn’t long ago the four of us were at Spruce Park, and I saw Trey, our town reverend, with his husband, their parents, and some out-of-town guests flying kites.
We were on a picnic blanket finding shapes in the clouds.
Tanner kept making the kids laugh, insisting every single cloud looked like a butt.
I kept telling him to grow up, but when a cloud drifted by that, without a doubt, looked like two round, fluffy ass cheeks, I couldn’t help but crack up, and it quickly became all four of us doubled over in childish laughter.
Even then, I remember wondering: Why do I feel so far away?
And later that same day, when we all came home and put on a movie, I was cuddled in a blanket in the armchair, by myself, while Tanner sat with the kids on the floor in front of a bowl of popcorn they kept spilling kernels all around, and I totally phased out in the middle of the movie, watching them, thinking about the spots of butter or oil that might be getting on the floor that I’ll have to clean later when the three of them are done.
Feeling so far away from the ones I’m supposed to love.
Have I always been like this?
My phone buzzes in my pocket with such energy, I jerk out of my thoughts, blinking. It’s a text from Tanner asking me, and I quote, “if I’m blowing up one of the poor, innocent toilets in my ma and pa’s poor, innocent diner.”
Typical Tanner.
I close my eyes and take a breath. I can’t keep running off into bathrooms to hide, letting my minty ice cream melt, figuratively or literally.
The way I see it, I have two choices here.
I can fake it in front of the world, then be miserable at home while I resent my loving husband for fighting for us.
Or I can try.
Honestly try.
See if it really is just … me. If maybe I’m the one who needs to change. I’ve made a habit out of my irritation. A habit of looking for the things that are wrong. For seeing flaws and ignoring all of the juicy, messy, funny stuff that’s right with us.
Embracing popcorn kernels on the floor.
Butt-shaped clouds.
Melting ice cream.
I text him back, telling him he looked really stupid with pie all over his face, and I hope the glob in his ear tasted waxy.
He responds back with a ridiculous, lip-biting selfie that looks like he’s trying not to fart.
This is my husband.
My goofball.
I love him.
A lot.
More than anything in the world.
And that’s why I’m gonna try this Tanner’s way, whether it destroys us or not.