Tuesday, May 15, 2018

Five Things I Know to Be True, Katy Comber

“Stop!” 
“Stop what?” 
“You are doing it again.” 

Paul knew what Sophie meant by “it” but asked her to define it anyway. 

“Lying.” Sophie’s heart thrummed in her throat as she spat out the word that began all conflict in the Mortimer household. Paul couldn’t seem to help it, and his way of altering the truth and telling her stories used to be her favorite thing about him. Used to. How he colored the world. Tell the truth but tell it in a slant. Who was that? Dickinson? Paul’s face crumpled. He just wanted to tell Sophie about his day, but nothing exciting ever happened at the shoe store. So he made up an eight foot tall woman in urgent need of stilettos and a penguin marching for animals rights down brand street this stuff used to make her laugh. He loved her laugh. 

 Okay. Here’s an idea. How about I start telling you five things I know to be true? 
Just five? 
Baby steps. 
Okay. 

One: I love you. 
Two: I love you. 
Three: I love you. 
Four: I love you. 
Five: 

Paul couldn’t get to five before Sophie began to weep. At first it seemed like a victory. Paul had made his wife so happy she was crying. 

“Stop.” she whispered. 

It wasn’t until she said it, that Paul realized, Sophie’s tears weren’t from joy and gratitude. And that something inside her was whispering that numbers 1-4 were just as untrue as the penguin waddling around with a protest sign.

Paul looked into his wife’s eyes and stared through a hazel galaxy he once swore to himself he’d memorize. 

Five. He cleared his throat and made sure Sophie was listening. Five, Sophie Jane Mortimer. I love you more than life. I love you more than words. I love you more than stories. 


It was then Sophie realized what Paul was saying. What he was willing to give up for her. Sophie reached down and picked up the notebook she’d purchased that morning. 
"You don’t need to stop telling stories, Paul. Just, maybe, for now. Tell them in here." 

Sophie handed Paul the one subject wired bound and kissed his cheek. And then, with the blessing of his favorite person, Paul picked up a pen, opened to the first blank page, and began to write. 

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