Page 18 of The Liar in Room 5

“I don’t care what you call me.”

“That’s not the same as liking it.”

“Don’t be silly. It doesn’t matter what you call me.” This was beyond ridiculous. It was just a name, not world peace. I’d answer to anything.

“But what do you like?” Henry’s voice was steady but immovable.

I moved farther into the makeshift apartment kitchen and began opening every drawer within reach. Why was he always so insistent on forcing me to tell the truth? Honestly, it was kind of annoying. If he’d just let me lie in peace, it would make everyone’s life easier.

“Ha! You’re going all Daddy on me.”

“And I’m still waiting for an answer.” He crowded me against the counter and bracketed me between his arms. “We’ve got all day.”

Henry was giving me an opening, and I wanted to take it.

“Drew. I’ve always liked the name Drew.”

“Nice to meet you, Drew.”

“You can’t just look at them. You have to test them,” Henry said earnestly.

As much as I wanted to test each and every one, it seemed kind of silly since I didn’t have money, an apartment, a job, or any prospects of any of those things. Testing out couches seemed, well, a little silly.

“I’m sure you have better things to do than watch me sit on couches that I won’t buy,” I answered as brightly as I could.

As much as I wanted to enjoy the window shopping, every price tag was a reminder that I had absolutely nothing in my life and no chance of fixing that any time soon.

Henry cocked his head and looked at me before he took my hands again and led me to a relatively quiet spot toward the back of the showroom.

“Drew, this is supposed to be fun. If it’s not fun, we’re not staying.”

“It is fun… I appreciate you bringing me even though I’m sure this isn’t what you wanted to do. I mean, you’re missing the tournament.”

“I don’t give a blessed goddamn about the tournament. I only got the tickets because I thought you liked pickleball, although I kind of suspected you were lying.”

“You thought I lied about pickleball?”

“Did you lie about pickleball?”

“Well, yes, but I didn’t want you to know that I lied about it.”

Instead of holding only one hand, Henry clasped both of them in his own.

“Drew, I don’t think I really understand what’s happening here.”

A part of me wanted to pretend that I didn’t know what he was talking about, but that seemed exhausting. Just like everything else in my life, the effort it took to keep up this lie that nobody cared about but me felt overwhelming.

“I don’t have a job.”

“Okay. Do you need a job?”

“I’ve never had a real job.”

“Is that something that needs to be addressed immediately?”

“It’s just… I don’t have a place to live. I don’t have an apartment. I don’t have a job. Why am I sitting here trying couches?”

“Because it’s fun, and it’s nice to imagine where you’d put it. And it’s okay not to know what your next steps are. Nobody has all the answers.”