Casey sighed, and looked at her watch. She still had fifteen minutes left until the end of her shift, and frankly, she couldn't wait to get home. The day had felt so long, and her mind kept skipping back to the events from a couple of days earlier. The things she had said. The lies she had told. Her father had been taken in, but she wasn't so sure about her mother. An old man coughed, to attract Casey's attention, and she went over to his table.
"Is there anything else I can get you, sir?" she enquired, politely, secretly wondering why the man had to come into the café to drink coffee and read the paper when he could have done it at home without having to pay for the coffee.
"No thank you, miss. Just the bill please." Casey took his used and empty cup, saucer and teaspoon off into the kitchen and took the old man the bill. He thanked her, paid, and left. Casey sighed again, looking around at the almost empty café. She wanted to go home. And they had no customers, so she couldn't see why she needed to be there. But she needed the money, she supposed. The café was nice. It was small, but it was newly decorated and clean. Most of the customers were regular. Casey had had the day off before sick, but not by choice. Her father had decided that she should take it, and when she objected he'd phoned up for her, telling them she was ill and would be in the following day, should she be feeling better. Her father could be quite controlling sometimes- that being rather an understatement- but Casey knew that he cared a lot for his family. She had been brought up a Christian, but she had not come to know God as someone loving and kind. Instead she feared him, hated him almost. She wanted to denounce it all but she couldn't because she was afraid of what her parents would do, especially her father.
Her mind, once again, slipped back into visions of that night, two days before. A handsome young man, possibly two or three years her senior (she was just seventeen) had come into the café. She had been taking her break, sitting at a table with a glass of lemonade and ice, because the afternoon was so warm. He had sat down beside her, made her laugh with his cheesy chat-up lines. In the end, she had agreed to meet him in a bar that evening for a drink, although she wasn't old enough to be drinking yet, which she kept firmly to herself.
The night had gone well, but Casey had got drunk. She was so scared of facing her father, of the things he was guaranteed to say to her. So instead, she went back to the young man's apartment, not really knowing why she was doing it, but her mind so hazy that she didn't care anyway. He had started to try it on, and far from shying away, she had returned his kisses, returned his touches. They had ended up going all the way on his sofa. Casey had wanted to lose her virginity to someone special, not in a run-down apartment when she was too drunk to remember how it had been. And sex before marriage went against everything she supposedly stood for, if not, then everything her parents stood for. Mere minutes after it had happened, she had run off home, stumbling and tripping the whole way. Arriving at her front door, her father had shouted and raged, asking where she had been, why she hadn't called. He got angrier when he realised how drunk she was. Casey, in a fit of self-pity, had broken down in tears, and in slurred words, told her father what had happened. Only she made it sound as though she had tried to stop the young man. She made it sound as though she had been raped, which was far from the truth. At that, her father had taken her into his arms and hugged her tightly, apologising for being so angry and immediately forgiving her recklessness. She told him that she didn't know who the man was, and that was the truth- all she knew was his first name. She said she wanted to forgive him, just like Jesus would do, instead of pressing charges. Her father was satisfied with everything she said, but she felt as guilty as Hell for managing to fool him into thinking that his little Casey was still so innocent and incapable of doing wrong.
Her mother had just looked at her the whole time. Unlike her husband, she knew that Casey had her faults, and believed she could see the lies in Casey's brown eyes. Casey was almost ready for a confrontation from her mother when she got home, because her father would still be at work. Casey had got herself into a stupid situation, and refused to take responsibility for it. What made it worse, was that she knew it was all her own fault. She was mentally kicking herself over and over, not just for letting it happen, but for being stupid enough to lie about it.
"A lie lives a short life, but the truth lasts forever."