January 5, 2018  - The cost of a little white lie

         This week, due to the severe cold, many of my friends have discovered “dead batteries” in their vehicles.  It reminded me of a time when I HAD TO buy a new car battery when I didn’t actually need one.

         Back when I was single and dating my husband, we would drive off to far flung places to go out to eat or go dancing.  Yes, Boston is not really that far from Worcester County, but still, there are plenty of places to go out to eat or go dancing within 30 minutes.  But, since my husband was “courting” me in the proper way – 5-Star restaurants with flaming brandy coffees accompanying desserts or intimate, dim-lit cocktail lounges that had ample “slow-dancing”  music - we often would be out and about the Boston area which was a good distance from home – typically 1 ½ hours away.

         One night we were having such a good time, I didn’t realize I would miss my curfew which was 1:00 a.m. [Saturday mornings] on Friday nights. I was still living at home, so I had to follow the rules.  No, I no longer trotted any fella to the house for my parents’ permission to date.  Most of the time I told them I was out with the gals and let it go at that. 

         On the outskirts of Boston, we’d spent the night having cocktails and dancing and now we were just finishing up a late-night breakfast when I realized it would be close to 3:00 or maybe 3:30 a.m. before I would be home.  My parents stayed half-awake the nights I went out and by now around 1:30 a.m. I could only imagine my Mom in her slippers and robe pacing the floor.

         “Look at the time,” I stated to my boyfriend, now husband, as we walked to the car in the frigid winter weather.

         “You better call and tell them you will be late.”  He suggested and started to look around for a telephone booth. [Yes, this was the old days – decades before car phones or cell phones.]

         We located a telephone, located enough coinage and I made the call.  The phone was picked up on the second ring.

         “Where are you?”

         “I called because I am going to be late . .  .”

         “Where are you?” My Mom’s worried voice was a little sharper now.

         I made up a white lie so that she would not worry. 

         “Out having breakfast with friends.  My car wouldn’t start and I finally found someone to jump the battery, I will be home in about 1 ½ hours.  I didn’t want to call until I got it started.” I knew it was a bald-faced white lie, but I was trying to come up with a valid reason why I was so late.”

         “One and one-half hours -  where are you?”  She demanded.

         “Boston.” I answered.  Now I could hear my Dad’s voice asking questions and my Mom saying I was in Boston and my car battery had died and snippets of their brief discussion.

         “I expect you home in exactly 1 ½ hours,”  said Dad who had taken the phone.

“Yes, Dad.” I said and I heard him hang up the phone.

I dropped off my boyfriend on the way and arrived home.  When I drove in the driveway, I could see all the lights on in the kitchen and living room and knew I would be in trouble.

My Dad, dressed in his robe and slippers, opened the door and stated, “Tomorrow morning, I will take you down to the garage and you will buy a new car battery.  Go to bed.”

That is all he said.  I went to bed and dutifully the next morning I drove down to the garage with my Dad and he instructed the garage man to put in the more expensive battery.  I never forgot I had to open my checkbook and wipe out half my savings to pay for that lie.  It didn’t take me but a moment to realize my Dad figured out my hasty ruse and I learned a lesson about the real cost of little white lies.

P.S.  I also lost a brand new pair of black leather gloves that night.  I’d taken them off to dial home and they must have slipped to the floor of the telephone booth unnoticed by me.  A second cost to a white lie.