This is Part II of last week’s story, The Best Lies are Laced with Truth.
Names and some details have been changed for privacy, and a couple of events have been condensed for brevity. Otherwise, this is a true story.
Trigger warning: Creepy old man, mention of suicide.
It was an awkward drive, especially with Buddy panting and whimpering in the backseat. I sat examining my shoes and legs for any spatter I may have missed. We took Buddy to Jacks’, tied him in the backyard, then set off to Clearwater.
Halfway, I broke the silence. “So, who owns this place, anyway?”
“Just some old guy Jacks knows. He’s like his idol, or something.” His voice was flat.
“What do you mean?”
Ari shrugged, “I don’t know. Jacks thinks he lives ‘the life.’ Wants what he has. He spends a lot of time out there.”
We pulled up the drive to an impressive house—built on a bank with a wrap-around deck and a view of the river below. Docks and expensive boats lined the shore.
Ari reached to the backseat for his business proposal before we stepped into the humid air.
“Welcome!” Jacks’ friend called from his front door. A snifter rested in his palm; an orange sun hung low behind him. “I’m Harry,” he said with an outstretched hand. He wasn’t hairy at all. He was shiny and bald with a crinkly face, surely in his seventies.
We introduced ourselves then followed him in. Jacks was inside with Veronica—a handsome woman with a dark bob and kind smile. A pharmacist-turned-Google executive, she was now officially on board for the VR project. She quickly stepped over to shake our hands.
We exchanged pleasantries and forced small-talk until the big investor showed. It wasn’t long. He, Jacks and Ari disappeared to the back of the house. I was left with Veronica and Harry. We stood, uncomfortable, looking at each other.
“How about a tour?” Harry finally said.
“Sure, let’s do it.”
Veronica and I shared a gentle smile before following Harry to the first room. Trinkets and carvings filled the walls and countertops. He went on and on about his travels to South America, the history of each art piece, and how special it all was to him. Veronica and I nodded along behind him, feigning interest.
We filed into his office, stopped at its center, then looked up and around at tall ceilings and bookcases. My eyes settled on a portrait of a young woman that was resting on one of the cluttered shelves. She was in a sailors suit, tipping her hat with a cheeky smile. Harry noticed me looking.
“Gorgeous, isn’t she?” he said, walking over to it.
“Beautiful,” Veronica said. “Your daughter?”
“My wife,” he answered. My eyes were wide—what kind of portal to hell had I stepped into? He flipped the picture forward to reveal another. There were several stacked together. “Ah, I love this one!” he beamed. “Such a polite young lady.” It was a studio shot with a white backdrop. His young wife sat in the center of the frame in a pleated skirt, knee-high stockings, and a collared top. Her hands were folded neatly on her lap. Harry looked back at us for our reaction.
“Very nice,” Veronica choked. She glanced at me. I glanced back.
“This one is more recent,” he said, “on my boat in the Keys.” His wife was behind the captain’s wheel as if to skip the craft, in a one-piece suit and pink-rimmed sunglasses. She wore less and less in each doll-like portrait. Harry looked back at us for validation of each one.
I checked my phone for the time. This was going to be a long night. Harry straightened the frames. “My love,” he said, stepping back to admire her once more, then walked over to his desk.
“Dostoevsky!” he said, in his best Russian accent. “Crime and Punishment.” He lifted the book from the desk with both hands. “I finally finished it,” he smiled down at the cover, proud.
“Did you enjoy it?” I said.
“It was a difficult read. Not so easy to understand. But yes, from what I got out of it. You’ve read it?”
I nodded.
He seemed surprised. “What was your take?”
“Well, it’s a story about morality. The main character tries to prove that right and wrong are nothing but a social construct—that we ultimately choose our own morals.” I searched his blank face. “He convinces himself that he can commit evil acts without remorse or consequence, but in the end, it destroys him.”
Oblivious to the irony, he quickly changed the subject. “I want to tell you a love story. But not here. Outside.” He returned the novel to an empty slot on a shelf before we followed down the stairs, and out the door to the steady sound of the river below. The sun was nearly gone. Pale yellow lights lined the docks along the shore. I went to the railing to take in the view.
“This here is an estuary,” Harry said, joining me. “See that line over there?” He pointed to the mouth of the river. There was a line of breaking white water that stretched from bank to bank. “Brackish, they call it. It’s where the sea and freshwater meet. Can you see it?”
“Oh that’s interesting,” I said. “I’ve never seen that before.” I turned around to lean back on the railing. “You have a gorgeous spot here.”
Harry gave a shallow nod before his eyes lit up. “My love story, you have to hear it.” He motioned to a table and chairs. “Let’s sit.” Veronica and I sat across from him.
“I met my love in Colombia when I used to travel to Medellin,” he said. “Her family is from Narino. Have you heard of it? It's a very poor place. Very poor. I saw her playing with her friend on the path by the shore.” He barely made eye-contact as he spoke. He seemed to be somewhere else. “Right beside the Amazon River. Can you believe it? With the beasts that live in there.” Veronica and I were quiet. My ‘creeped-out’ meter had shot off the chart. The feeling was visceral. “I couldn’t take my eyes off of her,” he went on. “She was like nothing I’d ever seen. We were drawn to each other in ways I cannot explain.” He leaned forward with elbows on the table. “Of course, I had to wait a couple of years. Her father gave us his blessing, but I insisted she was too young. He was happy for us. We were so in love,” he said, his eyes now burning into ours. “You know, I never even knew she had a body?’ My stomach lurched. “She always wore baggy clothes, but one day she was in her bathing suit and I … I couldn’t believe it.” His face was bright and alive.
I don’t think my insides have ever turned so harshly. I could feel the same energy coming off of Veronica next to me. “You must be very happy,” I managed to say before looking around to find no escape in sight.
‘I was so depressed before we met,” his voice turned. “I’d thought about eating the barrel of my pistol.” I shifted in my seat. “Sorry…” He shook the thought and looked out over the water. The silence was deafening.
I sliced through it. “Everyone thinks about suicide at some point.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Veronica said. “I haven’t.” She began to tear up and Harry and I waited for what came next. “It’s a touchy subject for me,” she said, finally. “My husband took his life last year.”
Jesus Christ, could this get any worse!? I put my arm around her, rested her head on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” was the only thing I knew to say.
There was commotion inside—I turned my head to the sound of men’s voices, drifting from one end of the house to the other. The front door slammed. I rose up on bent knees to get a view of the driveway. It was the investor. He dropped into his S-Class, fired it up, then fired down the street.
“Who was that?” Veronica said, wiping her tears.
“The investor.”
“Food’s ready!” Jacks called from the patio door.
“Ah, time to eat!” Harry said, getting up with a smile.
Veronica and I exchanged another look before slowly standing from our seats.
“Jacks grills a world class steak,” Harry said as we moved toward the door. “Did you know he was a cook in the army?”
The dining room was dimly lit; the table, beautifully set. I could see Jacks in the kitchen, busying around, loading individual plates. He wore an apron around his waist and a tea towel on his shoulder.
Ari was on the far side of the room, pacing. I could feel the agitation from where I stood. He mumbled to himself as he walked in a straight line, then pivoted to walk in another.
“Kari, beautiful, come sit here,” Harry said. “Veronica, you can come sit next to her.” We did as we were told, then waited for the others. She and I made eyes, again. The disbelief was palpable.
“Ari, you coming?” I called over. He glanced up from his muffled rant, huffed, then joined Jacks across the table from us. Harry took the head of the table. Servants busied around us, filling glasses, and setting down our plates. Jacks was wasted—his face as red as the wine.
“The investor couldn’t stay?” I asked, as innocently as possible, before nibbling the end of a butter-soaked carrot.
“Fucking moron,” Ari spouted before professing how incredibly talented he personally was, and how much of a retard the investor was for not seeing it. His speech was pressured; his eyes wildly different. He waved his hands around as he talked. “You know who Andy Stumpf is? Of course you do!” he badgered us. “He’s Navy. He’s got nothing on me! He’s been on Rogan a bunch of times. I’m going to be on Rogan!” Veronica and I sat in silent horror as he ranted and raved at seemingly no one. Harry ignored it, occupied with his steak, occasionally interrupting to tell us how good it was. And Jacks—I don’t think he knew where he was. “Fuck him,” Ari said about the investor, then dug into his food. “We don’t need him,” he said through a mouthful. “And we’ll outsource to Ukraine!” He let out a maniacal laugh, then chased it all down with a gulp of wine.
It was finally time to leave, thank god. We moved toward the door. Jacks steadied himself along a wall, insisting he was fine to drive. There was no convincing him otherwise. I’d drive his car home, I told him, repeatedly, until he got in my face. I backed off. Veronica got an Uber home, and Ari and I got in our rental. He oscillated back and forth between rants and uncomfortable silence. I checked my phone. A banner popped up with a Facebook notification. It was from a Lacy ____. My face got hot. I glanced at Ari then slipped my phone back into my purse. I’d have to wait to open it.
We picked up Buddy, then set off on the dark highway to our hotel. By now, Ari had settled down some.
“That Harry is disgusting,” I said. I had to talk about it. It was too insane to hold in.
“Why?”
I started to tell him about my shared nightmare with Veronica, but I was interrupted by Buddy. He was whimpering, turning in circles on the backseat.
“I think he’s going to shit,” I said. “Pull over.”
“He’s fine. We’re almost there.”
“Ari, pull over. I don’t think he’s going to make it.”
“And where the fuck do you suggest I do that?” he barked as we sped along the shoulderless freeway.
“Take that exit!” I pointed to an upcoming sign.
“He’ll be fine! Let’s just get back.”
“Ari, c’mon! You’re missing the turn!” I pointed again.
“I think I know my fucking dog!” he yelled before I heard the splash and felt it, too. Some had ricocheted off the backseat onto my shoulders.
“Oh my God!” I yelled as I shot forward in my seat. I squeezed my eyes tight. This can’t be happening. Jesus Christ, this cannot be happening!
“Fucking great!” Ari yelled. “You made him nervous!”
I looked over at him, wide-eyed, hunched forward with my hands on the dash. I didn’t say anything. I was beyond maxed-out. He dropped me at the hotel then left to find somewhere to pressure wash the backseat. I raced in to quickly clean up so I could read Lacy’s message:
There’s a lot I don’t think you know about my dad. Sorry if it’s weird that I’m reaching out. I just think there’s some things you need to know. My number is ________.
I wasted no time. I called. She answered on the third ring. She told me a lot of jarring things, including how Ari was discharged from the army for his mental health issues, how he couldn’t code, how he’d lost the family savings more than once, and that he was recently fired from the hospital where he worked.
“They fired a doctor?”
“He’s not a doctor,” she said. “He’s a doctor’s assistant.” Essentially, a glorified nurse.
The room began to spin. My stomach went with it. We ended the call and I sat, rubbing my hands up and down my face.
When Ari returned, he went straight to his suitcase to undress.
“The border house,” he started, “I’m gonna have to put that on hold for a bit.”
“On hold!? What am I supposed to do!?”
“You have it for a month. Plenty of time to figure it out,” he said, pulling his shirt up over him.
“I can’t afford it on my own!” I teared up. “I’m homeless!”
“Enough with the melodrama!” He rolled his eyes. “You’re a grown woman. You should be able to stand on your own two feet.” He kicked off his pants.
“What!? I was fine where I was! I never would have rented that place on my own!”
“Well, what can I tell you, move back to your old place then.”
“I can’t, you piece of shit! It’s rented!”
“Gold digger,” he mumbled, then marched to the bathroom and slammed the door.
The next morning we drove to the airport in silence, then sat next to each other for the three-hour flight. Buddy was at our feet. He twisted and turned and fussed and whimpered. I stared out the window with my pulse in my throat.
We are beginning our descent into Philadelphia. Arrival time is 2:00 pm local time. Clear skies and 72 degrees, the captain announced over the loudspeaker.
Buddy fussed more and more as the cabin pressure changed. He was in full-blown panic by the time the wheels touched the ground—Ari had to hold his leash tight to keep him from running. My heart thumped. The back of my neck dripped sweat. Get me out of this tin can! was all I could think, over and over and over. People slowly rose to collect their things, while Buddy flipped around like a fish out of water. C’mon, hurry up!
It was finally our turn. Ari stepped out to the aisle, with Buddy following behind him. I was about to step out, but stopped at the sound of farts, then watched in horror as diarrhea squirted from Buddy’s ass as he walked. Yards of it now lined the carpet behind him. The other passenger’s mouths gaped open.
“Oh my god! That dog is shitting!” a young woman screamed and pointed, before clasping her mouth.
I was mortified! I exhaled, moved into the aisle, managing to skip over the wet stream with every step. I made it to the front, then out of that goddamned plane, and ran past Ari and Buddy to catch my next flight.
I never saw them again.
I wheeled my way to airport parking, ears ringing as if a bomb had gone off. In a way, it had. I felt both free and bound by my new predicament.
I spotted it—my car loaded to the roof with everything I owned. I managed to squeeze in my case, then made the hour drive to the border house, in silence.
I walked up the steps, opened the front door, then stood staring into an empty house.
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Lots of love x
