Page 122 of Cruel Lies

I look out at the park. "Anything that isn't this."

In the background, I hear him light up an anxious cigarette. The click and rasp of the lighter, the crackle of his inhale. "Care to fill in the class on what changed?"

"Nothing," I grunt, knowing full well that he'll never let me get away with that much of a vague, evasive non-answer.

"This is an expensive choice," he says.

"I don't give a fuck. Whatever it costs, I'll eat it. I don't care about the money."

He sighs. "You're killing me, man. Just… goddammit, give me a few hours," he says. "Let me talk to some people. Then I'll call you back."

"Navi—"

"A few hours," he interrupts. "Let me do my job. You want it killed, I'll figure out how to kill it. But I'm not going to just pull the plug and hope for the best."

"Fine," I say. "A few hours."

I hang up…

And smile.

It's dead. There are no more lies.

There's just the possibility of a wide-open future.

I try to work. I have real work to do, of the legal variety. This is the work that keeps the lights on so the rest of it can happen in the dark. So, even though I don't want to go into the office, I get dressed and make the trek.

I then proceed to sit at the desk and daydream. There are files open in front of me, but my eyes pass over them dozens of times without processing a single word of their content.

Instead of the files, I see the lake.

It's not a hard picture to conjure. The dock, the old rope swing dangling from the tree. Hayden would love that dock. He'd want to know how deep the water gets, whether there are fish, what kind, and I'd have to look up the answers on my phone because I don't have the faintest clue what swims in a lake in the Catskills.

But I'd do it. I'd learn the Latin names just so I'd have something to delight him with.

Isabella would want the shoebox to come along. Doctor Fuzz, weekend guest of honor. She'd insist the caterpillar needs to see the water, and I'd carry the box down to the shore myself and hold it up so the brave little creature could take in the view.

And Cali. Cali on the dock in the late twilight, her hair loose, no mirror in a hundred miles for her to shrink in front of. Just the water throwing her reflection back, soft and gold.

I've never wanted anything so simple so badly in my life.

I keep picturing telling her what I almost did.

I decided I'm going to do it, and I've only gotten more sure of it since. After the weekend. I'll take them up to the lake, I'll give them three good days, and then, when it's just the two of us on the dock and the kids are asleep, I'll tell her.

Not everything. Not the parts that would put her in danger just for knowing them. But enough so that she understands what I am. That way, when the ugly parts of my life come knocking someday—and they will, they always do—she isn't blindsided by them. But I intend to do it right, so that she never looks at me and sees another Todd, a man who smiled to her face and did his damage behind her back.

I owe her that.

All that remains is for Navi to call me back and tell me it's done.

He calls back a little after noon. "You want the good news or the bad news?"

"That depends. Is there any good news?"

"Not really. I was being polite."

I stand up and go to the window. "Tell me."