Seconds Away

CHAPTER 47

I had to start answering Rachel’s texts.

When I got home, I told her that I’d found nothing significant in Chief Taylor’s files. In short, I lied. Or at least, I bought more time because I didn’t know what to do. Ema also wanted to know what was up. I wasn’t sure what to do, but in the end, this was Rachel’s private business, not mine, so I again kept it to myself.

The doorbell rang.

Myron was on the phone. “It’s the pizza guy. You mind? The money’s on the kitchen table.”

I grabbed the money, gave it to the guy at the door, took the pizza. I dropped the pie on the kitchen table, filled two water glasses, and waited for Uncle Myron. He came in and sat down next to me.

Uncle Myron opened the box. The wonderful aroma wafted out as though conjured up by the gods we studied in mythology class. He gave me a slice first, then he took one for himself. He bit into it and said, “Heaven.”

“Pretty much,” I agreed.

He swallowed. “You still don’t want to tell me what that was all about?”

“I appreciate you backing me up,” I said.

“But?”

It was getting late. I was tired and confused. “Do you believe it’s okay to lie sometimes?”

Myron put down the slice and wiped his hands on a napkin. “Sure.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. It’s the eternal question-do the ends justify the means?”

“And do they?”

Myron smiled. “If anyone has a sure answer to that one, be wary. Anyone who answers definitely yes or definitely no is someone who isn’t thinking things through.”

“So the answer is sometimes?”

“If it was always or never, life would be far simpler. But life isn’t simple.”

“So sometimes it’s okay to lie.”

“Of course. Are you dating yet?”

“No.”

“Well, here’s an example. If your future girlfriend asks you if a certain dress makes her look fat, say no.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Oh?”

“I mean something big. Is it okay to lie about something big if the truth will really hurt the person?”

Myron thought about that. “I wish I could give you a definitive answer, Mickey. It depends.”

“How about if a parent asks you to lie to their child? For their own good? I mean, you can’t just go against the parent’s wishes, can you?”

“Wow,” he said. “You’re in a mess.”

I said nothing.

“I lied to my father once,” Uncle Myron said. “It cost me my relationship with your father. I sometimes wonder, if I had told the truth…” He stopped and looked away. Tears filled his eyes and ran down his cheek. His head dropped. I could feel the anger starting to rise in me now. Yes, Uncle Myron, maybe if you’d told the truth, maybe if you’d been more understanding and kind, my father would be alive and my mother would be out of rehab and I would be nowhere near you.

I almost stormed out right then and there, but Uncle Myron, as if sensing what I was about to do, put his hand on my forearm.

“Here’s what you need to know, Mickey. There’s always a price you pay when you lie. Once you introduce a lie into a relationship, even for the best of intentions, it is always there. Whenever you’re with that person again, that lie is in the room too. It sits on your shoulder. Good lie or bad lie, it’s in the room with you forever now. It’s your constant companion. Do you understand?”

“I do,” I said. I pushed his hand off my forearm and stared down at the pizza. “But suppose the truth will devastate the person.”

“Then maybe you should lie,” Uncle Myron said. “But you need to understand the price. You need to ask yourself if you’re ready to pay it.”

Was I?

We had both finished the first slice in silence and were reaching for our seconds when Myron said, “It’s all arranged.”

I stopped. “What is?”

“The exhumation of your father’s grave. We fly out to Los Angeles tomorrow afternoon. The county officer said we can bring up his coffin the next day.”

I just sat there, stunned.

“Are you sure you still want to go through with it?” Uncle Myron asked.

“Yes, definitely.” And then-maybe because I wanted to reach out a little or maybe because he really seemed to need it-I said, “Thank you, Myron.”