“Are you lying?”
The words hit her like a smart, slight slap to the face as if someone was trying to revive her after fainting. The notion that she might be lying never occurred to her. At least she didn’t label it that way.
He was asking questions and she was distracted. She had other things on her mind, but he wanted answers. So, she gave him answers.
In her mind, the act of lying carried with it a measure of intent, a planted seed of plausibility and possibility that could grow into a wall of protection against the truth. It was flawed thinking of course. Lying was deceit and darkness and really, she had no interest in deceiving him. Still in the moment, as he kept coming at her with the questions, the truth was hard, the specifics were complex and she had little interest in or energy for additional debate or conversation.
All she really wanted was for him to shut up.