Free Ballistic by K.S. Adkins Page B

says , surprised by it, although, why would I lie about something like that? “Thank you.”
    “You’re thanking me for telling you the truth?” I ask , filling our bowls and serving her. I’ve never served a woman dinner either and found it slightly alarming that I wanted to do it again.
    “I take the truth where I can find it.”
    “I think truth may be the most powerful force on the planet,” I tell , her sipping the wine she poured, watching her do the same. She considers me before answering and I like that too.
    “I thought you believed love was?”
    “I said it’s powerful, but I’ve never been in love to say for certain but, it’s right up there with the truth.” When I look up, I see her glass is frozen in her hand.
    “Do you think lies are powerful?”
    “I do,” I tell her, reaching for her hand. “But they still don’t trump the truth, Lina. Nothing can do that.”
    “They can if you believe them,” she whispers . “If you convince yourself that a lie is the truth, it becomes the truth for you. People don’t buy magazines to read truth. They want to get lost in the lies by believing them. They like to feel better about their own lives so they immerse themselves in the misery of others. Oh look, JLo is on her third marriage, I’m only on my second. Therefore, I’m not as fucked up as JLo. Only, you are because she makes millions and you make excuses on why you couldn’t work out today or get your husband to look at you again. He doesn’t want to because all you do is bitch, plus you haven’t combed your hair in three days, whereas every morning his secretary compliments him and inflates his broken ego and she isn’t even pretty.”
    “I’m not exactly sure where this is going , Lina.”
    “Really? I thought that was right on point. Anyway, I’m saying it starts with you. People lie to make themselves look better, feel better, make others feel worse or even because it’s easy. Take that stellar JLo analogy and apply it to everything. Nobody cares that maybe she’s had her heart broken. They don’t ask if she’s okay. They don’t know why something unpleasant happened to her. They’re just glad it did . People think because she’s in the public eye, it’s okay to use her problems as the reason not to fix their own. You know, because clearly everything in print is true. Lies are a disease that infect us. Most don’t even want the cure, Anthony, because they lie so much it’s become who they are. In most situations a lie is more palatable than the truth. No one wants to step up and take a look at themselves because they fear not liking what they see.”
    Seeing that I’ve unraveled another layer to her and the fact that it hit too close to home, I decide to change the subject. “Halina Tomek,” I start, “Russian and Polish?”
    “ Subtle subject change. Czech and Polish actually,” she says, smiling. “Anthony Gallo, pure breed Italian?”
    “Gallo was my mother’s name, . My father was Polish. After their deaths, I changed it for obvious reasons. My given name is Gryza. I’m afraid Anthony is universal. My mother’s name was Vera, my father Anthony, which makes me a junior.”
    “ Named you after your father then, that’s beautiful,” she says quietly then winces like she hadn’t meant to say it aloud. Recovering, she moves on. “Cases fuck with my head. Every case, no exceptions. Each case takes something from me. My head isn’t right in the first place so while I’m working there will be times I’m distant. I just wanted to prepare you for that and ask that you to allow me the space I need to work through it.”
    “It’s that emotional for you?”
    “Not always,” she admits, taking a bite of spaghetti. Then she considers me again. “When I’m in the field, yes because I have to see it. When I’m at a desk, I get lost in the evidence letting it take me where it needs to go. Jules calls it floating and I have yet to find a word that is more fitting.