A Perfect Lie by Lisa Renee Jones

Author:Lisa Renee Jones
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

There’s a long list of Presidents and their infidelities, but I’ll spare you the names to avoid any implication that I have a party preference. I don’t. I hate politicians. All of them. My father included. I’m that equal opportunistic in my hate. Back then I believed that infidelity and lies were just different variations of the same word, therefore worthy of equal opportunity hate as well. That changed when I realized that there is no justification for infidelity, but some lies are necessary. I guess that means I don’t hate lies as much as I do infidelity. Sometimes lies are about survival and even saving someone who might otherwise be destroyed. Infidelity is always about hurting someone.

That doesn’t mean lies are without consequence. In fact, these revelations about my father, had me asking, what’s the price for a lie? If you tell just one, do you get a pass? What about two lies? Or three? When do you stop getting passes and does size matter? What if it’s just one lie, but it’s as big as the one I told the police with Danielle in Europe? That question opened up the floodgate of possibilities and the door to more questions. For instance, is one kind of lie, better than another? One punishable, when the other is not? And who should deliver the punishment? That’s an interesting question that I’ve since answered, but we’ll save that for the end of this story.

For now, I’ll stay focused on the question that would burn a hole in my mind over my father’s infidelity. If a lie is a perfect lie, the kind that is undetectable to the human eyes, does it even count? Perhaps not unless you make a mistake and it’s exposed, as is my father and his lie. As I’d sat at that table in Denver, staring at the pages of the book before me, one thing became clear: My father, who had always been a perfect man to me and so many, was no longer perfect to me at all. The book is filled with dirty secrets, really my father’s dirty secrets. Does that mean they’re mine as well?

Maybe.

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