一顆說謊的心
人生百味
作者：by Nancy J. Kopp
By the time I’d climbed the three flights of stairs that led to our apartment， my short legs were 1）wobbly and my stomach felt like a whirling top. My mother was going to be so angry， but there was no way out.
I slipped into the kitchen just as I did every afternoon when I walked home from kindergarten. My mother turned from the stove where she’d been stirring something.
“Where have you been？” Mom shouted.
If I explained that a girl in my class had shown me a shortcut home but I got lost， all would be well. So thinks an almost-six-yearold mind.
“Answer me，” my mother screamed. She was shaking， and before I could say anything， she slapped my cheek.
It was so unlike her. My face 2）stung， but it hurt my feelings even more. She’d scolded me earlier in the day for 3）dawdling on the way home， being late and making her worry. I’d tried so hard to get home on time that day. If only Lois’s directions for the shorter way home had been easier to follow！ I’d gone up one street and down another until I finally saw familiar territory. I ran the rest of the way.
In that 4）split second after the ringing slap， I decided to make my mother feel bad about hurting me. The lie formed in my gut， bubbled up and out my mouth between sobs.“You’ll be sorry when you hear what happened. I’m late because a man took me away.”
Mom 5）gasped and put her hand around my upper arms. “Man？ What man？ Where did he take you？ What did he do？”The questions came like the firing of machine guns in the movies we saw during those WWII years.
Once the first lie emerged， the next one erupted with ease. “He held my hand and we walked to Roosevelt Road.” Mom’s 6）hazel eyes opened wider at hearing that the man had taken me to the street lined with bars and liquor stores.
Now， she wiped the tears from my cheeks and hugged me to her. “Then what？”
“Nothing，” I said. “He brought me back to school and I came straight home. I’m really sorry I’m late， Mommy， but the man made me go with him.”
“What did he look like？” Mom’s voice was so quiet.
“Well，” I said， 7）stalling for time， “he looked a little like Uncle Christie.” My father’s Uncle Christie came to mind as he was old and 8）grizzled， always needing a shave. But he was kind to me.