NOTE: The stories in this project are fictional but based on cards sent in to the Postsecrets website: http://postsecret.blogspot.com/
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I’m a Good Liar |
“Originally, I’m from Ireland, but when I was eleven, my parents and I moved to Los Angeles. My mother had gotten a job doing hair and makeup on movie sets.”
As she spoke, all I could think about was how exotic it all sounded. Ireland? This bright-eyed, red-haired, stunning woman had a stunning life to match, and I was from suburban Chicago, nothing remarkable. I suppose my plain past fit my plain appearance.
Then, suddenly, I was sick of it. I was sick of my dull brown hair, my dull brown life. That’s why when I met Lindsey at that cocktail party, I decided that I didn’t want to be plain old me anymore. I don’t know what made me do it. Lindsey just asked me where I had gone to college and I immediately answered, “I went to a state university, actually. I couldn’t afford any better—my father raised me and my brothers alone.” Maybe it was the spark in her green eyes and the interested smile that appeared on her face as she started questioning me about more details of my upbringing, or maybe it was the small circle of listeners that gathered as I spun my web. Whatever it was, it felt damn good.
I started attending parties every weekend, carefully making sure that I would never encounter the same person at another place. Each new group of people provided me with an opportunity to reinvent myself. I became someone I always wished I could be, even if only for a short while. Sometimes I changed my name to fit my new, ethnic background. One of my favorites was Athena, thus named after the goddess because “my mother was a woman determined to bring about the Amazonian way of life.” When I was Billie Ann, I adopted a Southern accent and described my life as a young girl on a still-working plantation, run, of course, by paid help.
I gradually became more and more exotic, changing my name to Mei-Ling, the illegitimate daughter of a sailor and a Chinese maid. Occasionally I’d get looks of disbelief, but they never discouraged me. At these cocktail parties, I was an attraction; I was the woman everyone wanted to talk to. I could get them to hang on to every word. I was a good liar.
During the most recent party I was at, I was Anamaria, just getting into some juicy detail about how an African shaman saved me from a fatal snake bite when I saw a familiar pair of green eyes and a bright smile that made me stop mid-sentence. Lindsey grinned at me slyly and I knew she recognized me. I quickly wrapped up the story and took her aside.
“Hello,” she said, meaningfully, speaking before I could begin an explanation. “I’m Alizée. It’s very nice to meet you, Anamaria.”
I’m a Freak |
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The street light outside of my apartment flickers. I leave my blinds unfolded so that the light blinks in stripes across the room. It reminds me of being in my family’s trailer, carnival lights buzzing outside. This helps me sleep. I still think about them sometimes. Whenever I see a twenty something girl with auburn hair, I look twice to see if maybe it’s Fiona. Whenever I pass a tattoo parlor I look to see if my mother is inside. And whenever a carnival comes to town, I wonder if they are still there in their faded red tents or if they ever wonder what happened to me.
*****
When I was sixteen I decided to run away. We were on our way to our next destination. My mother was digging around in an old leather trunk. I was staring at her like she was a museum piece. Her body was covered, ankles to neck, in tattoos. It surprised me how well her aging body could maneuver inside the trailer that was speeding down I-80. My nine-year-old sister, Fiona, was perched at a trembling table doing her the homework my mother had assigned her.
“I can’t write while we’re driving, Mom,”she whined. My mother pulled a blue sequined robe out of a bin on the floor and flung it over her inked skin like a tarp.
“There’s too much nasal in your voice. You have to be breathier if you want people to feel sorry for you. Finish it before we get to Reno or you can’t be the great Swami.”
“Yes, I can. Who else is going to do it if I don’t?”
“Xavier will. Won’t you, Zave?” She didn’t wait for my reply. Fee glared at me.
“Don’t worry,” I reassured, “I’m not going to take over your stupid Fortune Telling booth.”
“It’s not stupid. I can see the future. ”
“Oh? How’s that?” I didn’t want to be talking about this. M y family was a bunch of con artists. I didn’t buy into any of it, and I wasn’t impressed. Why would anyone aspire to be a freak?
“You are going to grow up to be the boringest freak at the freak show, ” she said, trying to hurt my feelings. Actually it made me feel a little better.
*****
In Reno we pulled into the fair grounds ahead of the rest of the Carnival. My father, a huge man with beaded dread locks and an abrasive laugh, called for me to help him set up the tents. They were red velvet with gold letters splayed across them like mustard “The Great Swami,” “The Tattooed Lady,” and, finally, my father’s, “The Hammer of Thor,” where he challenged passerbys to feats of strength.
*****
Then I heard my mother yelling my name from inside her tent. She offered me food tickets but I could already feel my stomach churning at the thought of fried anything. Her breasts hung off her chest like drips of paint and I left before I got sick. I began my usual wandering past the clacking rides, the smiling families and roving packs of teenagers and I realized that this was going to be my life and there was no way out of it. I could hear my mother’s husky voice chanting to me, “Once a carney, always a carney,” and I hated it. I hated the twinkling lights . I hated the craggy faces offering a try at the “ring toss” or “nerves of steel.” I hated the rust and the paint and I hated stuffed animals and balloons. I hated all of it. I didn’t want to become this. So I left.
*****
Outside of the carnival it was pretty easy for me. I was brought up to be an expert salesman. I got odd jobs easily, handing out flyers or running card tables at the local casinos. After a few days though, I got sort of lonely for my family and I started to feel bad about just ditching them so I decide to go back, but as I got closer to the fairgrounds I couldn’t hear the clattering rides and I realized they had left without me. I just sat there crying for a while, staring at the empty trampled field.
*****
Now, fourteen years later, I work for a small car dealership in a suburb just outside of Reno. I have a studio apartment, a cat named Sasha, a full bookshelf and a freezer packed with frozen dinners. I still feel sad sometimes when I think about how my family left without me, but then I realize that they probably did look for me for a little while. Really, I think they knew all along that I would be leaving eventually. I wasn’t cut out for the carnival life and Fiona had predicted it. I was the most boring freak at the freak show and that’s exactly how I wanted it.
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Alice |
Alice watched her feet alternate steps as she moved around the corner and headed up the street that led to her apartment. She paused momentarily in front of Susan’s Pet Emporium, like she did everyday. Susan was talking with Jack.Alice imagined their interaction. They were probably talking about something very trivial in a terribly romantic sort of way. I like this collar. It’s so blue and beautiful, like your eyes, he might have said. Then Susan probably just laughed at him and told him to get back to work. Alice stepped back and watched Jack leave the pet store and smile his way up the street to the coffee shop. Susan put the blue collar away and danced back to the counter.
Alice watched her feet take another seven steps past two and a half sidewalk squares, a mess of gum, and an overflowing trashcan. She paused again at Jack’s House of Joe. A pair of lovers sat across from each other at a circular table with dazed, out of this world looks on their faces until one of them spoke up and the two burst out laughing. What’s that girl staring at? We should be staring at her. She’s so weird and alone. Alice imagined their conversation turning into tumultuous insults and laughter. She moved on, her feet moving with a heightened rhythm now.
*****
James sat in the corner of Jack’s House of Joe. He stared at a spot on his table next to his untouched regular coffee. The door opened and James turned his head to see Jack come in, happy as usual. There was also a beautiful girl standing outside. James quickly looked back down at the spot on his table. He wished she would come in and talk to him. Hey, what’s your name? Can I sit with you? she would ask. Of course! Have a seat! he would say. Jack glanced back up and she was gone. A happy couple over by the front window was making jokes about a Monty Python movie. Do you like Monty Python? James could have asked the girl. He bit his fingernail. His coffee was cold. He got up and shuffled out the door, glancing awkwardly at the lucky pair on his way out. To his right was the girl, about eight and two thirds sidewalk squares away. To his left was his bed, his computer, his world.
*****
She came to the steps of her apartment and turned to look down the street like she did every day. A man was leaving Susan’s shop holding a blue collar. A slight smile cracked Alice’s sober face. She pulled out her key, made the steps necessary to reach the door, and took one last look down her street. A handsome-looking man was turning the far corner. Hey you! What’s your name! Do you like Monty Python? I was just going to watch Monty Python and the Holy Grail, do you want to watch it with me?! Alice watched as her key turned and the familiar old door opened for her, and only her, again.
We Got So High |
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It started out as the worst day I had had in a long time. My alarm did not go off, so I was late for class only to realize when I got there that I had forgotten the day’s assignment at my apartment. In my next class, I read the wrong chapter in our text and failed a pop quiz. Afterwards I noticed I locked my keys in my car, so I had to sit outside on the curb for an hour before a locksmith came. I ended up having to use two weeks’ worth of gas and grocery money to pay for it, too. By the time two o’clock rolled around, I was ready to give up.
When I got home and looked at my cell phone that I had left next to my assignment in the morning’s haste, I noticed that I had a new message. Opening it, I saw that my friend Britney had texted me three words: ‘Wanna get high?’ At first I just rolled my eyes and set my phone back on the desk like I did every other week when she sent me the same question. However, as I sat down to start working on the mountain of homework I had, I stared at my phone and thought about it for a few minutes. ‘Hell yes.’
Within the hour, Britney, our friend Nicole and I were driving out of town in search of a random gravel road so as not to get caught by my lame neighbors at my apartment building. After we found one, Nicole took out a joint she’d rolled earlier. It burned my throat and lungs since I hadn’t smoked pot for almost a year now. And since it had been a while, four hits was all it took to get me absolutely stoned.
Britney drove us back into town as we tried to think of where we wanted to eat. I was just so hungry all of a sudden.
“What do you guys wanna eat?” Britney asked us.
“Um…PANCAKES!” I shouted.
“No, TACOS!” Nicole argued.
“Wait, what about mashed potatoes? Or macaroni and cheese? Or Krispy Kremes? Or, or, Chinese!” Everything sounded so good!
“I’ll see what I can do!” Britney laughed.
A pint of sweet and sour chicken, a half dozen Krispy Kreme donuts, two tacos, and a tub of KFC mashed potatoes with gravy later, we all were stuffing ourselves while we swore each new food devoured was our favorite. After half an hour we were all full to bursting, tired, and still extremely high.
“You know what’s a funny word? Vacuum.” Nicole was staring at the floor of the car and smiling uncontrollably, rocking back and forth while repeating the ‘U’ sound with her mouth over and over.
“Ha ha! Know what’s funnier? Toilet. Like it’s a toy. Full of fun and shit!” Britney guffawed as she realized the literal meaning to what she just said.
I couldn’t say anything; I was too busy staring at the creases on the back of Nicole’s leather passenger seat forming the letters of my name. Then a goat. Then a pineapple. Yum, I thought. Pineapple.
“What now?” I asked, becoming bored and dizzy with my imaginary designs.
“Golf,” Nicole whispered.
“What?” Britney and I asked in unison.
“Golf. Let’s play golf. Rent a golf cart and drive around. Oh man, can you imagine?” Nicole was still staring at the floor, but she had stopped rocking. “I know a place.”
We were silent as we thought about how much fun driving around in a golf cart would be at this particular moment. Without saying a word, Britney stopped the car and switched seats with Nicole. She apparently knew exactly where and what she was doing because we were at a course in no time, with keys to a golf cart and rental balls and clubs to make it look like we weren’t just messing around. Nicole drove us around the range first and we stopped every so often to try our luck at some of the holes.
At hole number nine we all decided to take a shot. But as I was about to swing, I heard Britney scream and I turned around to see her running from a huge bumblebee. Knowing she’s allergic, I started chasing after the bee with my club, swinging wildly. My coordination was terrible and I ended up tripping over the golf cart and getting hit in the head with the club that had flown up in the air when I stumbled. I just lay on the ground for a moment in a daze, not entirely sure what had just happened.
And then Nicole burst out laughing. Not just laughing, but shouting out loud ‘ha has’ and ‘ho hos’ with a different accent until Britney and I were holding our stomachs in pain, and tears were streaming down our faces from laughing so hard. I snorted, Britney burped mid-laugh, and we all just giggled and chuckled until we thought we would die from being so winded.
“I think I’d better go home before I seriously hurt myself,” I managed to breathe out between bursts of laughter.
When I got home and eventually sobered up, I felt guilty. There was still a huge pile of homework to be done, an even bigger lump on my head, and on top of that, I suddenly realized just how much money I’d spent that afternoon. But still, as I thought about the day again, I no longer remembered all the stress I felt earlier; only the sounds of laughter and the image of that leather pineapple came to mind.