April 1985
“I still don’t understand why you won’t move up to Danbury with me for the summer.” Doug pouted. “My parents are cool with it.”
“Seriously, have you met my parents? You know they’ll never go for it.” I replied frustrated by his lack of comprehension. There is no way in the world my parents would approve of me moving to Danbury, Connecticut into my fiance’s parents’ house four months before we were to be married.
“Jesus Christ. It makes total sense. We’re adults and can make our own decisions. You need to start job hunting. What better place to do it?” He pressed.
“I need to finish our wedding plans – a wedding my parents are paying for,” I reminded him. “And besides, June said I could work as long as I want. If I get any interviews, I’ll just have to drive up.” I wasn’t backing down. There was no point anyway. Mom and Dad would have a cow at the thought of me living in sin with my fiancé and his liberal parents. Not gonna happen. Period.
“Ok, but I’m not driving down every time you call me crying about how much you miss me.” He said firmly.
I knew he would though, just like he did the summer before. Doug was vulnerable to my pleas. He had a car, a frat house to stay in, and the testosterone level of a 22 year old. During the summer between our junior and senior years, I cried and he came. I lied to my parents telling them I’d be sleeping at a friend’s house all the while I was staying with Doug at the smelly fraternity house. Unfortunately, this summer would be more of the same. I was pretty sure my parents thought I was still a virgin, despite dating Doug since sophmore year; and I certainly wasn’t going to be the one to inform them otherwise.
The tiny piece of legal paper with Doug’s phone number remained tacked on my corkboard. I would never have called the cute library assistant for help with the Johnson case since I had no intention of writing a paper for a class I wasn’t taking. Instead, Doug tracked me down. First, he checked the class schedule to discover where and when Dr. Gardener’s criminal justice class was being held. He spent a week perusing the halls near the classroom. When he didn’t find me there he started altering his dining schedule hoping to find me in the cafeteria. No luck. Next, he lingered around the dorms where most of the sophomores lived. No luck. Finally, one week before Fall semester finals I was back in the library studying on the second floor mezzanine overlooking the periodical department. Doug, who was sitting at the help desk, happened to look up and see me. From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of him rising from his seat and walking out the door. Moments later he appeared in the mezzanine.
“Hey!” He whispered.
“Hi Doug.” I smiled.
“I never got your name.” He said, more of a question than a statement.
“Tess.” I replied.
“Well Tess, how’d you make out with that paper?” He asked knowing full well there was no paper.
“I got a B.” I lied; unaware he was on to me.
“Not bad.” He continued the pretense. “Are you ready for the end of the semester?”
“I guess so. Lots of exams for me next week.” I replied. “How about you?”
“Mostly papers for me, I’m a Humanities guy. You know, Philosophy and English.”
“I’m taking Introduction to Philosophy next semester.” I said.
“Cool. Maybe I can help you with it, if you’d like.” He said. “I’m sure you’re taking Dr. Martin, right?” He asked.
“Yep. How did you know?” I asked.
“The philosophy department is pretty small. Easy guess.” He said.
I glanced down at my book, hoping Doug would get the hint I wanted to study.
He did and said, “Well, I’ll let you get back to it. Want to meet for coffee later?”
I hesitated. What if he asked me more about my criminal justice class? I didn’t know if I could continue the deception. Throwing caution to the wind, I replied, “Sure, at the student union?”
“Great. Let’s say 8 o’ clock. I’ll meet you there.” He suggested.
We dated the entire Spring semester before he asked me about the criminal justice class. It was May. Finals were just around the corner and with summer break approaching we had to come up with a plan. Were we serious about each other? Would we choose to date others during our time apart? Could we trust each other to tell the truth? I thought I knew the answers to all of those questions. I was serious about Doug. I had no intention of dating anyone else during the three-month separation. And, I completely trusted Doug to be honest with me. So I was a little confused by the whole conversation. In fact, I was more than a little put off by even having the conversation – that is until he told me the story about how he tried to track me down. Then, I understood. And, I had a decision to make. Come clean with my boyfriend about why I was researching the Johnson case or continue with the lies.
The decision: I lied.
I had to. How could I admit to him a man was on death row because of me? What kind of person would he think I am? So, I lied. It went like this.
The lie: I wanted to know about the Johnson case because Raymond Johnson killed the son of my boss. Since I was young when it happened and my parents protected me from such things, I finally had to read about it myself. But why did I lie to him about it that day at the library? He asked me. I said because it was easier than explaining the whole thing. But why not just say, “Can you help me find information about the Johnson case?” He pressed. “Because I was in a college library and it seemed like the right thing to say at the time.” I said. “Well that’s just weird.” He concluded. Have you ever lied to me about anything else? He asked. I lied and said no.
