Liar, Liar

11. A GOOD LIE REQUIRES A GREAT APOLOGY

FUBAR.

It’s one of the all-time great military acronyms, and it stands for Fouled Up Beyond All Recognition.

I. Could. Relate.

But I wasn’t going to panic just because things looked bad so bad so very very bad. Like the good general I knew I could be, I would take bold action, I would show no fear, I would stride, godlike, straight into the jaws of adversity. I wasn’t exactly sure what I’d do yet, but I knew how I’d do it.

Katie had said so and JonPaul had proved her right—I was on my own. I’d gotten myself into this mess, and I had no one to turn to for help to get out of it.

So I went where I always go when I don’t know what to do—I headed for the library to organize my thoughts and hammer out a battle plan.

I grabbed a computer station near the back and started making notes listing how I’d messed up. When I was finished, I sat back and reread my efforts.

Wow.

People who say today’s generation has no work ethic would take that back if they saw how busy I’d been in one short week.

I’d be lying (and I’m not going to do that anymore) if I said that the thought of just waiting for everything to clear up naturally and hoping for the best hadn’t crossed my mind. That would have been the path of least resistance. And it looked appealing.

But lying low would show a weak character, and that was not how I wanted everyone to think of me.

There was only one solution.

I was going to have to admit to everyone what I’d done, take responsibility for my actions, express regret for the pain I’d caused, accept the consequences of my behavior, make sure they knew I was serious about making it up to them and then never act like that again. The perfect apology.

The only downside was that a one-size-fits-all letter wasn’t going to cut it. I was going to have to write specific letters to everyone.

I grabbed a thesaurus off the shelf, because there were only so many ways I knew to say “I’m sorry” without help.

Luckily, I’ve always been a very articulate and persuasive guy. I’d never needed either quality as much as I would now, though.

I apologized my miserable butt off. I confessed. Acknowledged. Asked for forgiveness. And promised to change my ways. I pretty much groveled.

I don’t know why the popular phrase is truth or consequences, when it’s really more like lies and repercussions.

While I was working on my letters, my cell started buzzing like crazy. We’re not supposed to use cell phones in school, but I’d broken so many rules this week, what was one more?

I slipped my phone out of my pocket and snuck a peek at the screen. Auntie Buzz.

She sent seven rapid-fire texts, because Buzz required 917 characters to make her point, with lots of ALL CAPS and tons of exclamation points!!!!!!!

Buzz was in a communicative mood for someone who was SO MAD AT ME SHE COULDN’T SPEAK!!

The bank had called to ask her to sign some paperwork authorizing the direct-withdrawal program I’d set up with the tax lady. At first Auntie Buzz didn’t know what they were talking about, but now she did and, “Mister, am I FURIOUS!! WHO do U think U R 2 MEDDLE w/ my financial affairs + VIOLATE my PRIVACY that way and does UR MOTHER kno she’s raised such a SNEAKY person?!”

I texted Auntie Buzz a message that took fifteen screens because I needed 1,974 characters to explain what I’d done, that I was only trying to help and that I’d fixed everything for her. I apologized for the MENTAL AGONY (her words) that I’d put her through and expressed my remorse that she was BESIDE HERSELF.

I was three letters into my other apologies before Buzz got back to me.

“U R out of a part-time job 4EVER. And I don’t want 2 C U 4 15 years. Or until Sunday dinner. But don’t expect me 2 sit next 2 U or pass U the rolls. EVER!!! Maybe UR only fired 4 a week. I’ll have 2 THINK about THAT!!!!”

I felt bad, but there was a little part of me that smiled, because I could tell she was getting a real kick out of this.

I hoped everyone else would find the same kind of satisfaction in yelling at me and then everything could eventually go back to normal. I was realistic enough to accept that everyone was going to be angry at me for a while, though, no matter how amazingly I apologized.

I sat there writing letters all morning, and I was exhausted by lunchtime. The simple truth is far from simple.

But I was starting to feel better than I had all week.