Free Lies Agreed Upon by Katherine Sharma Page A
Authors: Katherine Sharma
out, and moved with broad-shouldered at hleticism in his tailored suits. He met the world with an engaging grin and a firm handshake, and his thick blond hair achieved the perfect balance between elegantly styled and casually tousled. He was a walking testimonial to the values of professional grooming and personal confidence. His ambition and self-presentation were sending him up the corporate ladder, unaffected by the economic downturn that had knocked others, including Tess, off their financial feet.
After a wait, Mac answered his mobile phone, probably pausing to check the caller nu mber first. His upbeat hello had an impersonal friendliness that made Tess wince. For a few panicked seconds, she held the phone blankly, unable to remember the opening line of the conversation she had rehearsed in her mind all day.
“Hi, Mac. It’s Tess,” she finally blurted out and realized with resigned acceptance that the conversation was not going to go as fantasized.
“Oh, hey, I was meaning to give you a call and congratulate you. I guess you inherited some big bucks suddenly. That should be a relief given your current financial crunch,” Mac responded, his voice so bright it had a steel glint to it.
“Who told you?”
“I heard about it from Bill’s girlfriend, who sometimes hangs out with your BFF Katie,” he answered. Mac and Katie were no longer close, but there had been a time when Katie’s romantic side was quite taken with Mac’s charm. Meanwhile, Christina had flirted with him outrageously and called him “sexy.” Jen had conceded to him intellectual respect and even asked his advice on investment matters. Tess had reveled in knowing that this paragon had chosen her.
Only Tess’s mother resisted joining Mac’s coterie of female admirers. She had declared after a couple of meetings, “Sorry, dear, I don’t think Mr. Reese is right for you. The boy smiles too much.”
“You think it’s a problem that I’m dating someone who’s happy?” demanded Tess, irritated by the critical negativity so typical of her mother.
“The only people who grin that much are fools, maniacs or liars. I think you know which he is,” answered her mother.
Tess had rejected her mother’s assessment as unfair then. After all, since her mother was so critical, Mac was not thrilled with her company and mustered only strained pleasantries.
When Tess was with Mac, the intimacy of his smiles intoxicated her. Her blood fizz ed warmly at the sight of him—whether he was rumpled and sipping morning coffee, or intently talking business on his cell, or laughing with friends at a crowded party. Even when he was absent, his image slipped constantly into her thoughts. She liked to wake up in the morning to possess him in solitary bliss. She would relish his sleeping face beside her, handsome and relaxed, with his stubble-shadowed cheek resting boyishly on a sinewy masculine hand. She would rub her cheek against the smooth warmth of his shoulder while his breath tickled the part in her hair.
Yet she had gone from this state of giddy infatuation to agreeing only a month ago that they should “give each other space.” Somehow their relationship had begun to come apart at the seams, tugged by both sides until there were gaping holes in the fabric of contentment. She did not know if she had expected too much or he had offered too little.
When her mother died six months earlier, she felt Mac was holding himself thoughtlessly aloof. There was probably no comfort that would have assuaged her isolation, but she wanted his presence to bring at least the promise of warmth to the cold, slow passage of grief. She began to feel anxious when he stayed late at work and depressed when he spent time with friends.
When she lost her job, the estrangement grew, and she saw his smiles with her mother’s eyes: a distracting flash to disguise indifference. Frightened by the cold riptide of loneliness, she grabbed at him more desperately, creating waves of
After a wait, Mac answered his mobile phone, probably pausing to check the caller nu mber first. His upbeat hello had an impersonal friendliness that made Tess wince. For a few panicked seconds, she held the phone blankly, unable to remember the opening line of the conversation she had rehearsed in her mind all day.
“Hi, Mac. It’s Tess,” she finally blurted out and realized with resigned acceptance that the conversation was not going to go as fantasized.
“Oh, hey, I was meaning to give you a call and congratulate you. I guess you inherited some big bucks suddenly. That should be a relief given your current financial crunch,” Mac responded, his voice so bright it had a steel glint to it.
“Who told you?”
“I heard about it from Bill’s girlfriend, who sometimes hangs out with your BFF Katie,” he answered. Mac and Katie were no longer close, but there had been a time when Katie’s romantic side was quite taken with Mac’s charm. Meanwhile, Christina had flirted with him outrageously and called him “sexy.” Jen had conceded to him intellectual respect and even asked his advice on investment matters. Tess had reveled in knowing that this paragon had chosen her.
Only Tess’s mother resisted joining Mac’s coterie of female admirers. She had declared after a couple of meetings, “Sorry, dear, I don’t think Mr. Reese is right for you. The boy smiles too much.”
“You think it’s a problem that I’m dating someone who’s happy?” demanded Tess, irritated by the critical negativity so typical of her mother.
“The only people who grin that much are fools, maniacs or liars. I think you know which he is,” answered her mother.
Tess had rejected her mother’s assessment as unfair then. After all, since her mother was so critical, Mac was not thrilled with her company and mustered only strained pleasantries.
When Tess was with Mac, the intimacy of his smiles intoxicated her. Her blood fizz ed warmly at the sight of him—whether he was rumpled and sipping morning coffee, or intently talking business on his cell, or laughing with friends at a crowded party. Even when he was absent, his image slipped constantly into her thoughts. She liked to wake up in the morning to possess him in solitary bliss. She would relish his sleeping face beside her, handsome and relaxed, with his stubble-shadowed cheek resting boyishly on a sinewy masculine hand. She would rub her cheek against the smooth warmth of his shoulder while his breath tickled the part in her hair.
Yet she had gone from this state of giddy infatuation to agreeing only a month ago that they should “give each other space.” Somehow their relationship had begun to come apart at the seams, tugged by both sides until there were gaping holes in the fabric of contentment. She did not know if she had expected too much or he had offered too little.
When her mother died six months earlier, she felt Mac was holding himself thoughtlessly aloof. There was probably no comfort that would have assuaged her isolation, but she wanted his presence to bring at least the promise of warmth to the cold, slow passage of grief. She began to feel anxious when he stayed late at work and depressed when he spent time with friends.
When she lost her job, the estrangement grew, and she saw his smiles with her mother’s eyes: a distracting flash to disguise indifference. Frightened by the cold riptide of loneliness, she grabbed at him more desperately, creating waves of