一顆說謊的心

By the time I’d climbed the three flights of stairs that led to our apartment， my short legs were 1）wobbly and my stomach felt like a whirling top. My mother was going to be so angry， but there was no way out.

I slipped into the kitchen just as I did every afternoon when I walked home from kindergarten. My mother turned from the stove where she’d been stirring something.

“Where have you been？” Mom shouted.

If I explained that a girl in my class had shown me a shortcut home but I got lost， all would be well. So thinks an almost-six-yearold mind.

“Answer me，” my mother screamed. She was shaking， and before I could say anything， she slapped my cheek.

It was so unlike her. My face 2）stung， but it hurt my feelings even more. She’d scolded me earlier in the day for 3）dawdling on the way home， being late and making her worry. I’d tried so hard to get home on time that day. If only Lois’s directions for the shorter way home had been easier to follow！ I’d gone up one street and down another until I finally saw familiar territory. I ran the rest of the way.

In that 4）split second after the ringing slap， I decided to make my mother feel bad about hurting me. The lie formed in my gut， bubbled up and out my mouth between sobs.“You’ll be sorry when you hear what happened. I’m late because a man took me away.”

Mom 5）gasped and put her hand around my upper arms. “Man？ What man？ Where did he take you？ What did he do？”The questions came like the firing of machine guns in the movies we saw during those WWII years.

Once the first lie emerged， the next one erupted with ease. “He held my hand and we walked to Roosevelt Road.” Mom’s 6）hazel eyes opened wider at hearing that the man had taken me to the street lined with bars and liquor stores.

Now， she wiped the tears from my cheeks and hugged me to her. “Then what？”

“Nothing，” I said. “He brought me back to school and I came straight home. I’m really sorry I’m late， Mommy， but the man made me go with him.”

“What did he look like？” Mom’s voice was so quiet.

“Well，” I said， 7）stalling for time， “he looked a little like Uncle Christie.” My father’s Uncle Christie came to mind as he was old and 8）grizzled， always needing a shave. But he was kind to me.

She had a funny look on her face when she asked me another question. “Did he touch you？”

“He only held my hand.” I wondered why she seemed so upset.

I had to repeat the story to my father when he got home. I kept the same lies going， never changing my story. We ate dinner that night with me chattering as usual， my baby brother banging a spoon on his 9）high chair tray and my parents talking only through looks passed across the kitchen table.

Grade school and junior high years slipped by， and even though I thought about the horrible lies I’d told， I’d reached a point where the guilt proved easier to bear than the thought of 10）confessing. Finally， when I was sixteen， Mom and I were doing dishes one summer evening. We were chatting and laughing as she washed and I dried. Why I suddenly decided to confess that night， I don’t know.

During a 11）lull in the conversation， I said，“Remember the day the man took me up to Roosevelt Road when I was coming home from school？” Even all these years later， my heart beat harder as the memory of my lies surfaced. My mother stopped 12）scrubbing the potato pan.“How could I ever forget？ Your dad and I worried ourselves sick. We didn’t know what to do so we called the police， and they had a police car follow you to school every day for about two weeks. They never found the man， but it was a terrible time.”

I never knew that I’d had a police 13）escort. I nearly swallowed my big confession right then and there， but I went on. “Mom， I 14）made it all up.”

“You what？ But why？” Her face turned red and her hands were shaking as she dried them on the tea towel by the sink.

I could barely get the words out. “You hit me before I had time to explain that Lois told me a shortcut to go home but I got lost.” I started to cry and so did Mom.

When we both gained some control， I said， “I didn’t think you’d get so angry ten years after it happened.”

She sank onto a kitchen chair and put her hands on her cheeks. “I barely slept for two weeks. I couldn’t walk to and from school with you every day because your baby brother was sleeping then.”

I’m sure she told my dad that night， but he never said a word to me about the stupidest thing I’d ever done. Stupid or not， I learned that one lie leads to another， and once you’re deep in a pile of lies， the way out might take years.

當我爬完通往我們公寓的那三段樓梯時，我短小的雙腿搖搖晃晃的，胃里就像個急速飛轉(zhuǎn)的陀螺般旋轉(zhuǎn)翻騰。媽媽準要大發(fā)雷霆，但我別無他法。

如同往常每個下午從幼兒園回到家一樣，我溜進了廚房。媽媽在爐子上炒動著什么，然后她轉(zhuǎn)過身來。

“你去哪兒了？”媽媽吼道。

如果我解釋說班上的一個女生告訴我一條回家的捷徑，但是我迷路了，那一切都會沒問題的，快六歲的我這樣想。

“回答我”，媽媽尖叫道。她氣得發(fā)抖，我一句話都還沒來得及說，她就扇了我一耳光。

這很不像她。我的臉上感到刺痛，但我的心更痛。她那天早些時候就責備過我，責罵我不應該在回家的路上瞎逛，遲遲不歸讓她擔心。我那天已經(jīng)盡力按時回家了。要是洛伊斯指的那條回家的捷徑不那么難找就好了！我在各條街道間上上下下，直到看到熟悉的街區(qū)，就一個勁兒地跑回家了。

在那清脆的耳光聲響起后的一瞬間，我決定了要讓媽媽因為傷害到我而感到愧疚。一個謊言在我腹中生成，往上冒，在我的啜泣聲中從嘴里吐出。“當你聽到發(fā)生了什么事兒，你會后悔的，我回來晚了是因為一個男人把我?guī)ё吡恕！?/p>

媽媽倒抽了一口氣，用手繞著我的兩個上臂。“男人？什么男人？他帶你去哪兒啦？他做了什么？”一連串的問題猶如我們看過的二戰(zhàn)電影里那些機關(guān)槍的炮火般襲來。

第一個謊言一旦說出，下一個謊言就變得容易了。“他牽住我的手走到了羅斯福路。”當聽到那個男人把我?guī)У骄瓢珊途扑亮至⒌哪菞l街上時，媽媽睜大了她那雙淡褐色的眼睛。……