Chapter 3

Once on the campus of Johns Hopkins, Emily phoned her best friend Charlotte to cancel their plans for the next day.

She pretended to almost rightly dinner with her father she could not miss.

Charlotte, as usual, proved very understanding and assured her friend that it was only a postponement. Emily apologized again, promising to catch up, and she would have preferred to spend the evening with her as planned. That on which she hung up. Truly Emily exulted inwardly at the idea of an evening with Gillian.

She crossed the park, came to the library and read through the University's motto: "Veritas your liberabit, "The truth shall set you free" …" She read this sentence in Latin sounding so melodious each time, and as always, she could not help but question this assertion. The truth always made you free? She seriously doubted that.

Hidding the truth about my feelings for Gillian is by far the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

I remember the day it all began, I was just 12 years old, my father had just returned from the Pentagon because of a sordid affair, I'm still not sure I understand, and he and my mother crossed what may be termed 'hard time' ... An evening the mother of a friend brought me back home, my father opened the door looked less sad than usual, thanked our neighbor, and leaned toward me, explaining he was not alone, that's in the kitchen was a young woman who is now one of his colleagues ... I remember clearly being abruptly decide to take a dislike to this mysterious stranger in my home! I remember having imagined, between the entrance and kitchen, equipped with all the the most repulsive default ... And most of all, I remember "the vision", Gillian Foster, a brilliant psychologist of just 26 years, a beauty beyond insanity, she was breathtaking ... I remember biting my lips, thinking against my will that I had never seen anything so beautiful in my entire life.

She then turned to me and timidly kissed on my cheek as she whispered to me with her enchanting voice, that she was really pleased to meet me.

On that day, I believe that everything has really started ... I stopped being Lightman Emily, only child of a couple of careerists in the breach, ignoring, at the dawn of her teenage years, what she will be able to become. I became Emily Lightman, a girl who at just 12 years, had already found her purpose in life: to become someone who could one day impress the wonderful Gillian Foster.

This meeting laid the groundwork for a problem to become increasingly complex to the son for years.

Emily became hailed from afar by a group of four students, to whom she answered with a nod and a smile. She quickly joined them and all gained a table a bit away from the huge Department of Psychology at the Hopkins Library.

It's quickly became what it was supposed to happen I guess: Gillian came full foot in all our lives. My father loved very quickly, almost as fast as my mother had despised her, and for my part, my admiration for the young woman has grown a little more each day.

As she was often a subject that aggravates a lot of tension between my parents, I decided it would be wise to hide my adoration for her, and to feign indifference towards her, and began my silence ... of course I did not realize at the time of what would happen, and the vicious circle in which I sank slowly.

At that age I thought I just wanted to be like Gillian later on ... Adolescence has changed all that.

Around 14-15 years I've realized that all my girlfriends swooned with admiration for all the singers of rock fashion, actors of sitcoms, and I always felt out of sync. I only had eyes for Gillian who was so beautiful and smart, and I waited with the same fervor is expected on Christmas morning, moments I will see her at the Lightman Group, or nights that she and her husband would come home for dinner.

I did not tell anyone and I started to say interest to all these masculine icons in fashion either, thinking that before long, my friends matured, putting us well on the same length of wave. I realized that claiming to be like everyone else, I could melt into the ground incredibly well, so I practiced more this technique, at school and at home, and strangely nobody s realized anything ...

One night while I was in high school, Gillian and her husband Alec came home to dinner. At that time my parents were already separated for a year and a half, but the marriage of Gillian seemed to be in full swing. At dessert time when I was supposed to help my father in the kitchen I looked in the half-open door to see if Gillian seemed to enjoy the chocolate fondant that I had passed the post noon to do secretly for her.

At that moment, I saw Alec kissing her fervently, stroking her thigh under her skirt, probably not aware of being observed as well. I felt pain for the first ... I could not tell exactly why, the sight of this happyly married couple put me in such a state, all I knew was that for a dark reason, I hated that damn Alec with all my forces.

A few weeks after this incident, that I took great care not to rehash, things have really flipped for me.

It was a quiet afternoon at the Lightman Group, one afternoon as there were so many. I finished my classes earlier and I conversed cheerfully with friends on the web, when Gillian came in my father's office to inform me about my father's delay. Since she was little work I dropped what I was doing and we began to talk about everything and nothing, sitting comfortably on the sofa.

I do not know at this day, on what our conversation was, but I remember very clearly the desire that came to me, as sudden and intense, of kissing Gillian.

It only lasted a second but it had the effect of an explosion inside me. I do not have immediately understood what was happening. Luckily, Gillian did not seem to notice anything of it as she continued her monologue, laughing. I quickly found an excuse to go and I'm locked up in my room until evening. That night was the longest of my life, I have not slept in torturing myself trying to understand and analyze what had been happening in me to feel such a desire! Several weeks passed before this I stop fighting hard against the evidence that came over me: I was in love with Gillian ... it was a disaster.

I have not told anyone, not to change, and I have hardly begun to take the hit. First I carefully avoided Gillian some time, I even at the height of desperation, trying to hate, but it did not work either.

My survival instinct quickly pushed me to correct me if I didn't wanted that my father, or someone else, understand what I had just discovers myself. So I continued to do what I knew best: pretending ...

If I could not fight against my feelings, I could at least control my actions.

And it worked, beyond all my expectations.

Emily began to lead the debate under the watchful eyes of her four comrades before one of them takes her on.

After a few minutes, and once the work shared, each was immersed in a different book, raising their head from time to time, to share an idea or ask advice.

I'm sure not one of them has the smallest doubt of anything, neither my friends nor my family, not even Gillian.

They are not aware of being in their own way, one more piece in the chess of my life of lies. I move my pawns strategically to protect my queen, I took care to fool the opposing party to avoid failure and mast ... Nothing is left to chance, the slightest movement, the smallest decision serves my cause every day which is Gillian. Each new move is a success but the game is far from over ...

Here's how I came to everyone: the young and promising Emily, well adjusted, leading a healthy and balanced life, surrounded and loved by loved ones, promised to show her passion for study, to have a great career ...

Once their work accomplished, the five comrades bowed before the exit, apparently satisfied with the results of newly completed of their presentation.

Emily drove until the apartment she rented near the campus.

I just wonder: how long will I be able to perpetuate this illusion... And however,if the veil had to tear, will I feel it?