A Liar & a Thief

I am such a liar...and a thief. Actually, I am a very honest person...often times, to the point of being considered 'abrupt,' 'blunt,' 'aloof,' and/or 'callous.'

But have I ever lied? Stolen? Oh yeah! I have and then stood valiantly behind my lies, even when I knew that I was wrong...

Suzanne lived with her professional mother & alcoholic father in a traditional ranch-style home and had a swimming pool out back. The summer between 9th & 10th grade often found Suzanne & I lounging in her swimming pool. Frequently other friends, both guys & gals, would join us. Her father didn't work, as alcoholism had killed all of his short-lived careers. He would 'watch' us for Suzanne's mother. Sometimes his 'watching' danced on the lines of perversion, which embarrassed & angered Suzanne & stunned the rest of us.

Her mother seemed to live her life flitting between denial & determination. If Suzanne ever confronted her mother on some of her father's unwelcomed comments and implications, she often fanned her away... teen-agers are so melo-dramatic. When Suzanne bold-faced told her that he was drunk, she agreed. She told us he was 'sick.' She told us not to pay any attention to him & should he pester us that we should tell him to leave us alone...that he meant no harm.

At one of Suzanne's slumber parties, he tried to join in on the fun out by the pool. He did something inappropriate. We all pulled out of the water & cooped ourselves up in Suzannes' room. When a pillow fight ensued, he came barging in... not to tell us to be quiet, but to join us. We literally had to push this drunk, hicupping, giggling, stinky old man out of the room.

So there's my backdrop & my validation to the LIE that eventually flew out of my mouth so quick that it just had to be true.

Suzanne & I had been hanging out around her pool one summer day. Her mother was at work & her father was out & about.

We were talking about the area she lived in. Rumor had it that the little dirt road up the street led to an old distillery for white-lightening. Supposedly, it was up and working. Generations after prohibition had ended, some of the best moon-shine in those parts were right down that single lane dirt road tucked in between the trees.

We wondered if her father went there for his fixes. Maybe he was there now. We wished he'd come home. Suzanne & I were bored & fidgety with the long, summer days. We wanted to walk to a friends, but knew if her Mother came home & we weren't there, Suzanne would be in trouble.

He came home, her father ...nearly crashing through the garage door. He staggered in and became one with the sofa. Within 2-3 minutes of his arrival home, he was out. Suzanne tried to awaken him to ask him if we could walk down to some friends house. No cigar! This man was out.

She begged him to wake up, to give us his approval to walk down the road to our friends, to just wake up! There was not enough time left in the day to walk all the way over to our friends & back before her mother returned...we needed him to wake up & say ok!

She plucked the keys out of his pocket & yelled at him...'Dad, if you don't wake up & let us go down the street...we're gonna take your truck!'

I laughed...'WTF Suzanne? We can't take his truck to Mark's! Mark's mom will tell on us!'
I think Suzanne was seeing sideways when she cocked her head up at me from her crouched down position beside the couch that had absorbed her father.

She didn't say another word, but stormed out the side door. I quickly followed. 'Suzanne! Marks mom is home...she will tell!'

"Get In! We are not going to Marks'!'

Her Dad had an old pick-up truck. Other than having the ashtray polluted with cigarette butts, the truck was immaculate... not what I was expecting. We jumped in...Suzanne in the drivers position & me, by her side.

The gear shifter was on the steering column. We chugged & lurched two or three times in reverse before we made it safely out of the drive way. And we headed in the direction of Marks.

Eeeeeeeuuuuuurrrrtttt!!!!

Suddenly we're bouncing down a narrow path in the woods with two deep ravines for our tires. Aha! We're on our way to the mysterious rumored distillery. We bounce along & before you know it her anger and my shock turned into the giddy laughter of two 14 year old girls.

It was so wooded and the trail narrowed in around us. Tree limbs were scraping the sides & the top of the truck. We slowed down. Eventually I could see something like a light at the end of the tunnel.

The woods opened up ahead of us, apparently only on the right side. I said 'Oh Gawd Suzanne...watch it turn out to be a damn pot field.' If only we were that lucky...Suzanne laughed & sped up, heading towards the light.

The feild was indeed to our right and so was an old slightly delapitated house with a rusty tin roof and a broad front porch. KA-BOOM! So loud ... it rattled me.
'Suzanne! There's an old lady on that porch!'
KA-BOOM!

Suzanne spun the truck in a one-eighty, dried grass from the summers heat threw dust into the air, disorienting our vision momentarily. Suzanne's face was like that of a ghost as she screamed 'ShotGuuuuunnnn!'

We flew back down that dirt-road, bouncing further up into the tree limbs & surely skipping some of the dips in the road completely. We couldn't get to end of that dirt road quick enough and when we did, ... it was suddenly too quick.

We narrowly missed hitting a passing mail truck, jumped the curb & careened into the yard across the roadway from the entrance to the dirt road. There, we took out several shrubs and a small tree & then Suzanne regained control of the truck.

With a deep sigh, we went back to Suzanne's house & jumped out. We walked around the truck to inspect damage done. Yep. Damage done.

Paint with long lines of to-be rust carved into it. Front bumper wretched downwards. Various pieces of vegetation wrapped up in the wheel wells and one huge (as big as me) piece of vegetation weaved into the front passengers side, somewhere between the crumpled bumper and the crammed wheel well.

Suzanne started pulling at the greenery & I quickly joined her. With one leg propped up on the slanted bumper for leverage, I began tugging and pulling on that huge branch & left Suzanne to dig remnants out of the wheel wells. We worked quickly & silently.

'What the hell are you doing?'
Our silence was broken.
We were so wrapped up in what we were doing that we never heard Suzanne's mother pull up. We never even heard her walk up.
Suzanne met her question with silence.
I looked at Suzanne. She was almost as white as she had been when she had yelled 'ShotGun!'
Her Mom turned her head to me...

'Pulling branches out of the truck.' I said, stating the obvious

'What happened?!'

'We don't know.'
We don't know?
We don't know. It flew out of my lips quicker than a child could spit liver.

Turning towards Suzanne, her Mothers incredulated expression had conviction like I had never seen in the woman before. She said

"Suzanne, where's your father?"

Suzanne wimpered until she was interupted ...'Inside Mom, he's passed out. We couldn't wake him up. I tried to wake him up. I tried real hard. He...'

'Suzanne! Paige! Leave that truck alone & stay right here until I say it's OK!'

OK. We stayed right there.

Eventually, she came back out. 'Paige, can Suzanne spend the night with you tonight?'
'Yes Ma'am'

Suzanne & I, still in our swimsuits and Sunbritches got into her car.
She spent two nights with me.
Her Dad spent the next month and a half in a full time detox facility.

Unless my co-hort has confessed, he still beleives he wrecked that truck...
It was the last in a years long series of utterly drunken black-outs.
So, do you beleive my story or am I just big fat liar? ;)