I already know you're lying to me
Already know it, by the way, by the way
You ain't gonna play me this time
Not today, not today...
I don't wanna hear your sweet lies
―Nathan Dawe, Talia Mar
Zara
After my conversation with Zara I felt uneasy. I wasn't sure if she had really been the victim of a hate attack by some random man on the street or whether she used that to disarm me and draw me in as a confidante or a 'sympathetic friend'.
Our past conversations had been cordial but distant and I'd hardly class her as more than a colleague--I'm not sure I'd even consider her a work friend.
In the past I've gotten close to colleagues, shared lunches with them and even went for drinks, but it never progressed beyond the workplace and I knew if I were transferred to another location, the relationship would end.
Everyone has friendships of convenience centred around the job and much of the conversation consists of that--what people call shop-talk or water cooler conversation.
And that about sums up the state of my relationship with Zara.
But I've got to admit her confiding in me that she was upset at being racially and sexually stereotyped and then attacked for it, kicked our relationship up a notch to a more personal level. I can't help feeling this was deliberate on her part as a way to get behind my defences.
I was sitting in my Washington apartment ruminating about the day's events and wishing I was back in my Victorian house on the outskirts of Toronto.
It was a cold. rainy night, unusual for D.C. in June, and I was longing to be home in my Victorian village, sitting in my cozy den before the fire--not here in a spartan rental sipping Bud Lite.
I was actually missing being with Anna and having her console me and tell me everything was going to be all right, even if it wasn't--which is closer to what I was feeling right now.
The monotony of the rain pelting the windows must have caused me to doze off because the sudden pulsing of my cell, skating around the coffee table, awoke me from my slumber.
I hoped it was Anna but saw at a glance it was Sam--that couldn't be good news and it wasn't.
"Turn on your TV and watch the news and phone me back after."
Sam's done that before--during the Boston Marathon bombing and again during the January 6th debacle.
Yeah, there would be no soothing words tonight.
I turned on the television and my heart sunk. Someone had done their homework and dug up parts of my past I'd rather forget.
Everyone has skeletons in their closet, youthful indiscretions or simply bad choices that make you wish you had a giant eraser.
And when you're a celebrity the tabloids salivate at the chance to expose all the dirt the New York Times thinks isn't fit to print.
I knew this was coming--you always know it's coming--if not sooner then later, but sooner or later hate is gonna get you.
Well, this was my turn and the tabloids were taking their turns making the best of it...
And the networks, including my own, were dutifully obligated to cover it.
I'd like to say I was philosophical about it but the truth is, all I could think was, give me gun, I want to kill myself.