Page 70 of He Hate Me

“What is your problem?!” I snap at him.

“My problem is you’re on the defensive when they’re the ones who have a lot to answer for. We’re both adults, Deja. We’re not beholden to them.”

“Young man,” Devin says, wading into the conversation for the first time. “You live in our house. You want to be adults and stay out all night—get your own apartment. As long as you live here⁠—“

“You’d better follow our rules,” Brandon mocks.

All of us stare at him with our mouths agape. He is really pushing it.

“Deja,” Brandon says, “give me the pictures.”

“I’m not sure…” His look is withering, and I comply, not entirely happy with him but also curious to see what he’s going to do. This is a lot more confrontational than what I had planned, but I understand that he’s applying the “good offense” defense.

He shows a picture, holding it up so both of them can see.

“Who is this man, Devin?”

I had always thought of Devin as a sweet, even slightly clueless guy with a tendency to tell lame dad jokes. But when he says, “I have no idea,” so credibly that I almost believe him I get chills.

“That’s my late husband,” my mom chimes in. “Where did you get that picture?”

“It was with my mom’s photo albums,” Brandon lied. “I found it in the basement.”

Brandon holds up the next picture, this one showing Dad, Devin and my mom embracing.

Devin opens his mouth, ready to tell another lie (and can I say how disappointing his behavior is to me?) but my mom raises her palm in his direction and shakes her head.

“Let’s go have a seat in the living room,” my mother says.

The living room is formal, used only for special guests and important conversations. When they’re about to dole out punishment, we go to Devin’s office but for a “family discussion,” it’s the formal living room. It’s a wood-paneled room with stiff backed sofas and an antique inlaid wood table. There’s a glossy fiddle leaf fig tree in one corner and a vase of fresh flowers on the side table. I take a mint from the candy dish on the coffee table, twisting and twisting the plastic wrapper around.

“I want to apologize to you, Deja,” my mother says, “and to you as well, Brandon. We haven’t been completely honest with you. I didn’t fool you with that story about St. Joseph’s College, did I?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head.

She sighs. “I should have known. You’re so tenacious. When I met your father, he and Devin were roommates at McCrystal. All three of us became close friends, though obviously your father and I were more than friends.” She smiles, as if recalling a fond memory.

“When you were about five, Deja, I got a call from Devin letting me know about a job in his department. Even though I wouldn’t be reporting directly to him, Devin was on the hiring committee and technically shouldn’t have had any input on my hiring.”

“But he did,” I cut in.

“Yes, I did,” Devin says. “In light of that we felt that it would be smart not to mention our longtime friendship to anyone.”

“We would both have been penalized,” my mom says. “I might have lost my job, and we had moved here from out of state, David had just been accepted at his first practice. We couldn’t risk it.”

“But why keep lying for so many years. I’m sure you’ve proven yourself at this point. And why lie to me.”

“First, we’d be outing ourselves as liars,” Devin said. “Trust is a big part of being successful and once people see you as untrustworthy, it can cancel out all your good deeds.”

But you are untrustworthy, I think.

“And as for you, that’s even more embarrassing.” My mother shifts in her seat, tugging down the hem of her skirt suit to cover her knees. “When Devin and I became romantically involved, I worried it might be confusing if you knew that we had been friends when I was married to your father. Just the appearance…”

“We’re supposed to believe you lied for years,” Brandon says, “because you didn’t have an affair?”

“There was nothing romantic between us until after David’s passing,” Devin says earnestly. But I just saw him lie convincingly about not knowing my father when they had, in fact, been best friends. Devin was right. Once you knew someone was a liar, it really did make it hard to trust anything that came out of their mouth.

Brandon squeezes my hand, sensing my renewed agitation. Maybe my mom is telling the truth, but Devin is still lying about something, I can just feel it.