Standard disclaimers apply: I would take credit for Sydney Bristow and Co.
in a second, but they aren't my creation.
Archive away! Just let me know via e-mail, please.
A huge shout out to my Server 5 friends – I never would have written anything without your encouragement. A special thank you to Nic (for being the first one!), Jenai, (for being Jenai), and Linda (for being honest).
Nepravda
Imagine your life right now. Look around you. Are you looking at people you love? Friends? Family? Co-workers? Picture them in your mind. Think about what they really mean to you. Now imagine lying to them all. Every day. Not little, white lies, but big, dark lies. Lie about who you are, where you go, what you do, who you see. Lie about everything. Realize that none of these people – good people, who love you - none of these people know you at all.
***
I used to be able to rationalize the lies. I was working for my country, I was saving lives, and I was on the side of the good guys. I know better now. Nothing in my life was pure after all.
My father…I thought that he was so cold, so uncaring. When I thought of the secrets he has carried around for so long, I felt like the weight of those secrets could crush me. I don't know how he continued. How could he even have looked at me? Knowing what he knew about her, how could he claim me as his daughter?
My mother…I thought I was her daughter. She was the one good, constant thing in my life. Such bullshit. She was a lie. I was her lie. I wonder if she was pleased or upset when she discovered she was pregnant. Did she want me at all? There must have been a memo somewhere, written in Cyrillic, ordering her to give birth to me. Did she resent getting up in the middle of the night to feed me? Was she pleased that my first word was "Mama"? When I reached out to her, did she want to comfort me, or did she want to be free of me? She held me, she sang to me, read to me. We played dress up, and went to the park and did all those things that mothers and daughters do together. I never got the sense from her that I was anything less than adored. Memories aren't perfect records, though. Maybe I remembered only what I wanted to remember. I don't trust myself with things like emotions and memories anymore.
***
I realize that tears are spilling down my face and I wipe at them with my hand. It's a futile gesture, like so many other things in my life right now. It doesn't matter if I wipe these tears away…there are more waiting to fall.
Vaughn says that she can't have been all bad, that she must have loved me in some way. I want to believe him. How does he find the strength to comfort me when he knows that she killed his father? How is anyone that good, that strong? If it had gone the other way around, if his father had killed my mother, I would hate him. I would hate him for stealing my mother.
The phone rings, and even as I reach for it, I know who it will be. I sigh as I click the talk button.
"Joey's Pizza?" the male voice asks evenly.
"Wrong number," I whisper, as I push the end button.
My whole life. Nepravda. (*)
*nepravda – russian; untruth, lie; "(it is) not true"
Archive away! Just let me know via e-mail, please.
A huge shout out to my Server 5 friends – I never would have written anything without your encouragement. A special thank you to Nic (for being the first one!), Jenai, (for being Jenai), and Linda (for being honest).
Nepravda
Imagine your life right now. Look around you. Are you looking at people you love? Friends? Family? Co-workers? Picture them in your mind. Think about what they really mean to you. Now imagine lying to them all. Every day. Not little, white lies, but big, dark lies. Lie about who you are, where you go, what you do, who you see. Lie about everything. Realize that none of these people – good people, who love you - none of these people know you at all.
***
I used to be able to rationalize the lies. I was working for my country, I was saving lives, and I was on the side of the good guys. I know better now. Nothing in my life was pure after all.
My father…I thought that he was so cold, so uncaring. When I thought of the secrets he has carried around for so long, I felt like the weight of those secrets could crush me. I don't know how he continued. How could he even have looked at me? Knowing what he knew about her, how could he claim me as his daughter?
My mother…I thought I was her daughter. She was the one good, constant thing in my life. Such bullshit. She was a lie. I was her lie. I wonder if she was pleased or upset when she discovered she was pregnant. Did she want me at all? There must have been a memo somewhere, written in Cyrillic, ordering her to give birth to me. Did she resent getting up in the middle of the night to feed me? Was she pleased that my first word was "Mama"? When I reached out to her, did she want to comfort me, or did she want to be free of me? She held me, she sang to me, read to me. We played dress up, and went to the park and did all those things that mothers and daughters do together. I never got the sense from her that I was anything less than adored. Memories aren't perfect records, though. Maybe I remembered only what I wanted to remember. I don't trust myself with things like emotions and memories anymore.
***
I realize that tears are spilling down my face and I wipe at them with my hand. It's a futile gesture, like so many other things in my life right now. It doesn't matter if I wipe these tears away…there are more waiting to fall.
Vaughn says that she can't have been all bad, that she must have loved me in some way. I want to believe him. How does he find the strength to comfort me when he knows that she killed his father? How is anyone that good, that strong? If it had gone the other way around, if his father had killed my mother, I would hate him. I would hate him for stealing my mother.
The phone rings, and even as I reach for it, I know who it will be. I sigh as I click the talk button.
"Joey's Pizza?" the male voice asks evenly.
"Wrong number," I whisper, as I push the end button.
My whole life. Nepravda. (*)
*nepravda – russian; untruth, lie; "(it is) not true"