Larry constantly told transparent, unnecessary lies; lies as answers to questions that were never going to be asked. It was, as those who came to know him quickly realized, something reflexive…something born out of some need to keep his cards close to his chest even when there wasn’t a game being played.
Most of the people who knew Larry (he didn’t really have friends…chronic lying tends to make the retention of intimate friendship an iffy proposition at best) accepted it with resigned shrugs and barely concealed nods of disbelief and left him to inhabit his own insular world as much as possible.
Larry wasn’t a bad guy…but his addiction to almost ceaseless prevarication and its seemingly attendant furtive habits made him a guy people didn’t want to know too deeply. And, of course, nobody knew who Larry was…his colorful tales of his many exotic adventures and steamy romantic conquests throughout his 60+ years of life rewrote themselves with regularity depending on the occasion…and the audience…and the amount of wine Larry had “secretly” imbibed throughout the given day.
Larry had two (or was it three) ex-wives with whom he was still friends with and two to six children (none of whom apparently celebrated Father’s Day); he also had any number of beautiful, sexy ladies who, to hear him tell it so earnestly, longed to be the next Mrs. Larry.
It was, the people who knew him supposed, a gentler madness and they listened to the stories with a bare minimum of attention paid. And that, seemingly, was more than enough for Larry.
Sometimes late at night Larry, deep in his cups, would reach out…with plaintive phone calls and hopeful e-mails…looking for a sympathetic heart to give him some measure of shelter; he never found one. Failing that, he took solace in the company of more wine, fair weather folk willing to take advantage of his wide-eyed neediness, and women whose affections could be negotiated on an hourly basis.
It took a little while for people to notice when Larry disappeared. Nobody seemed to know where he went…nobody seemed to know if he was dead or alive…Larry was just gone, without a word and without a trace.
Every once in a while, Larry’s name would come up in conversation and the speculation would often become quite fanciful. In his absence, the legend of Larry grew and the fact that he wasn’t around became oddly poignant…it was a quite unexpected void…and Larry, wherever he was and whatever he was doing, must have really liked that.
