The Lie

"Hey, so Friday night I'll be out...mmmm...probably five-thirty to maybe seven or so....Rachel invited me to some kind of exercise class." I said this to my husband, William.

"Okay, sure. She's into martial arts, isn't she?"

"You know, I'm not really sure what it is, but I said I'd go."

"That's fine. You go on and have fun."

"I'm not really sure what it is." This was the lie.

I knew perfectly well what it was, and William's acceptance of this lie made me uneasy. I'd never lied to him, and here I was acting like some kind of con artist.

If I told him I was off to fly through the air on a trapeze bar, there was a good chance he'd freak out or worry about my getting hurt and try to talk me out of it. I knew this was it...tonight or never.

The previous week, Rachel happened to mention that she was getting seriously into trapeze classes — and she likely noticed my eyes popping with pure envy.

"Really? On the pier? You're doing that?" I gushed.

"I'm addicted. It's amazing. I've been six times," Rachel enthused.

"How long are the classes?"

"Two hours. You wanna come? I have a free guest pass. Friday night, you wanna come?"

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"Great. Let's meet on the pier at about six."

I dressed in yoga blacks with white socks. Ballet slippers if you have them or just socks, I was told. I put a black trenchcoat over the ensemble and said goodbye to William.

"Have fun!" he called as I made to leave.

"I'll call when I'm on my way home," I said, thinking, If I make it home. If you don't get a call from an ER nurse first.

I'm a good-for-nothing grifter. A fabulist.

And that's the truth.

CHILDREN'S WRITES: A Journal Entry

I wanted power when I was with Page on her trampline we wer wishing we could fly. It did not work because flieing is impossible. Thats when I wanted power. I wanted power because I could control my wish so I could fly.

—Mary, 3rd grade

girl flying photo from webshots user qtpie15101