Rainfall

by Melissa Delport

  Three days later we fly back to Manhattan. I have prepped Carl Sheldon and he is ready for our next session which, if all goes well, should result in the successful integration of Kyle. I have not been so apprehensive since this whole process began.

  Carl still cannot believe that Kyle has offered himself up so willingly for integration and he says as much.

  “It was Paige,” Adam explains, unable to meet my eye as he says it. “Paige got through to him.” I frown, wondering if that is really what he believes.

  “That’s not true,” I interrupt, and both men turn to stare at me questioningly. I look from Carl to Adam, a smile playing about my lips. “It wasn’t me,” I continue, shaking my head. “It was you.” I turn to face him and I feel my face flush with pride. “Don’t you see, Adam? You finally proved that you don’t need him to defend you. You showed him that you can take care of your own all by yourself.” I am beaming now. I am so proud of Adam, of his strength and his goodness.

  “It was all you, babe,” I iterate, coaxing a shy smile out of him.

  There is a moment of silence and then Carl breaks it, “Let’s get on with it shall we?” he asks and I nod encouragingly.

  While Carl is putting Adam under hypnosis and I have a few moments to myself, I allow myself to feel things that I know I should not be feeling, things that I have been trying to deny that I feel, even to myself. A part of me feels infinitely sad that Kyle will cease to exist from this day forward. He was annoying and loud and very conceited, but there was something about him that got under my skin. Perhaps it is because, despite all that I now know, a part of me still believes that Kyle is a part of Adam, a part that I am losing forever. I feel like I am attending another funeral and I am barely keeping things together after my father’s. To attend another so soon is heartbreaking, even if it is for a greater good.

  All too soon Adam is under and Carl calls on Kyle to come forward. This is the first time that the doctor has kept Adam so actively present and I am fascinated by the process. Doctor Sheldon asks Kyle to introduce himself to Adam, which he does, and I feel a small pull in the pit of my stomach as I hear that husky drawl.

  “Kyle, can you explain to Adam what happened the day you first remember emerging to protect him.”

  There is a silence so absolute that you could hear a pin drop and I hold my breath. Then Kyle begins to speak, in that casual way of his, and I find that I am riveted. I lean forward in my chair and even Carl looks unusually animated.

  “It was at the orphanage,” Kyle begins. Nobody says a word; there is a moment’s silence. The tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife and then the words pour out of him, as though he cannot bear to hold them in a second longer.

  “I was eight and there was a group of older boys, about six of them. They never left me alone. Wherever I went they appeared; teasing me, pushing me, calling me disgusting names that I knew were wrong, names I could never repeat. They said I was a freak, that there was something wrong with me; that it was no wonder my parents had abandoned me; that I was a runt and they probably threw me out with the trash. It went on for months. The nuns never knew, or if they did they never said anything. The abuse was constant and, because I spent so much time alone, they had plenty of opportunity.” Kyle clears his throat audibly and I am so tense I jump.

  “I think it was the fact that I wouldn’t react,” he continues, “I didn’t rise and I didn’t defend myself. It infuriated them, put them on a slow boil. By the time the abuse turned physical they had been building up momentum for months and it all culminated in one final, awful act. I was in the gardens behind a copse of trees reading Doctor Seuss or some other God-awful drivel. They found me and had me surrounded before I even knew they were there.” Kyle, although I think it is Adam’s response, groans softly and moves around on the couch; he seems ill at ease.

  “What did they do, Kyle?” Doctor Sheldon prompts, although it seems like a silly question to me; it seems fairly obvious what they did.

  “Nothing.” Kyle’s response is nowhere near what I expect. “They started teasing me and calling me names, nothing out of the ordinary. When they started throwing stones I started to panic and tried to get away but they pushed me around, forming a circle and not allowing me to escape. I thought I would black out; the claustrophobic, pressing circle seemed to get smaller and smaller and smaller. Just when I thought they would overwhelm me, he spoke. Bradley, their 'leader'. He called them off and just like that they were gone.”

  I heave a sigh of relief and slump back in my chair. So the bullying had never resulted in Adam being beaten. I had been so sure that it would, giving rise to the creation of Kyle, the protector.

  Even Carl seems stunned by the sudden anti-climatic turn of events. I raise my eyebrows at him questioningly and he opens his arms, palms up, indicating that he is as confused as I am. He turns back to Kyle and is about to ask him a question when Kyle continues, speaking as though there had been no pause.

  “Bradley cornered me in the boy’s bathroom that evening. He was friendly, which was completely unnerving, asking me how I was feeling and apologising for his friends' behaviour. He got closer and closer to me and he just kept coming until I could not back away any more. The cold, hard wall against my back, I begged him to leave me alone. He was 15 and he seemed to tower over me. He told me to take my pants down; he said it so calmly, I remember that clearly. He said it was the least I could do to thank him for saving me. I was pleading and he was yelling and one thing led to another.” There is absolute silence in the room. I am barely breathing I am so horrified. Kyle takes a deep breath and when he resumes speaking I can hear the change immediately.

  “I remember,” Adam says, and my heart constricts. I am not sure what this means and I look to Carl for information.

  “Adam?” he asks and Adam nods his head.

  “I blacked out,” he repeats. “When I came to, Bradley was lying on the floor; there was blood everywhere. I was holding a copper pipe.” He sounds disgusted. “It was Kyle,” he admits, and I breathe slowly in through my nose and out through my mouth. There it is. The trauma that caused Kyle to surface.

  “He didn’t die,” Adam speaks again and I feel my body go weak with relief as he continues. “Bradley survived and he never told anyone who had done it that’s why I wasn’t sent to Juvey. That’s why the nuns never knew that I was involved. Bradley’s humiliation at being beaten by an eight year old obviously kept him quiet. None of them ever messed with me again, or if they did, I don’t remember it, although Kyle might. He fought those battles for me. Either way, the orphanage wasn’t half as frightening a place to be after that day.” He is silent for a moment and then he laughs without a trace of humour, “Although it was pretty lonely. Nobody wants to be friends with the freaky kid.”

  I sympathise for only a moment. I am too caught up in the revelation of what has just happened. I realise that Adam can now successfully integrate Kyle and, even as Doctor Sheldon starts to speak, I cut across him, interrupting, and not caring that I am under strict orders never to do so.

  “Adam!” I cry out and his head turns toward me.

  “Yes?” he asks, sounding very unsure of himself. My heart is breaking for him and how difficult this journey of discovery must be, but I cannot allow this to happen without saying what I need to.

  “I need to speak to Kyle.”

  “Why?” Adam asks tremulously.

  “I can’t tell you that. But I need to speak to him, please. Alone,” I add, as though I'm not already asking too much. I glance across at Carl who is looking thunderous, but he does not say anything or prohibit me from continuing. Adam sighs sadly.

  “All right, Paige,” he mutters and, while I watch, I see the slight twitch.

  ‘Kyle?” I ask, laying a hand on his shoulder.

  “Yes, sweet cheeks?” he drawls, grinning.

  “Thank you,” I say, trying to convey the depth of my gratitude in those two little words.

  “Don’t sweat
it. So long as he doesn’t turn back into a spineless wimp I’ll die happy.” He licks his lips and I realise he is not half as blasé as he is pretending to be. I cast another glance at Carl and he deliberately stands and walks a few steps away, clearing his throat and feigning interest in a stack of papers on his desk.

  “For what it’s worth,” I lift my hand and push the damp curls off his forehead. “I'm truly sorry that you have to go for him to be well again.”

  “But you want him whole again?”

  I know what he is asking and I also know that he already knows the answer to his own question.

  “Yes, Kyle,” I admit sadly, “I want him whole again. More than anything.”

  “Well, just remind him, from me, that if he ever acts like a pussy again I’ll be coming back,” he smiles sadly and I choke back a sob. Leaning forward I focus only on Kyle, forcing Adam and the doc from my mind. I lower my face and I kiss Kyle’s mouth softly. Moving across to his ear I brush his hair aside and whisper again, “Thank you.”

  Kyle grins, a wicked, naughty grin.

  “Bye, sweet cheeks.” The words are barely out of his mouth and I see the twitch. Carl steps forward and engages with Adam and I stumble backward, tears splashing onto my shirt. I slump back in my chair crying silently and mourning the loss of a man I am not even sure I liked.

  Carl continues speaking in a low voice for a few minutes more and when he finally brings him out of the hypnotic state, it is Adam’s brilliant blue eyes that gaze back at me.

  Chapter 19

  Adam knows how hard it was for me to say goodbye to Kyle. I think he is also moved by Kyle’s selflessness at the end, but more importantly, we are one step closer to the life that we have been dreaming of. Kyle’s integration, as difficult as it was, rejuvenates us both. It is so good to finally have succeeded, to feel that we are making progress. We go out for dinner, have far too much red wine, have drunken, giggly sex on the couch and sleep until noon the next day. For 24 hours life is peaceful and it is just us, being together. I am woken from my extended slumber by the sound of my mobile phone.

  Adam throws two pillows and an empty chocolate box in the general direction of my handbag.

  “Turnidoff!” he moans, and I clamber off the bed, standing and toppling over immediately as my feet get caught up in the straps of my discarded bra.

  “Ouch!” I yell and Adam’s concerned face peeks at me from under the covers, his beautiful sapphire eyes narrowed.

  “Yookay?” he mumbles and I nod, narrowing my own eyes against the sliver of sunlight coming through the curtains. Duly satisfied that I’ll live he burrows back under the covers and pulls a pillow over his head. The ringing is incessant and I grope for my handbag, rummaging around inside it. Triumphantly I pull the mobile phone from its depths and peer at the caller ID. Bill Morris, the Private Investigator I've hired to find out about Adam’s past.

  “Adam!” I hiss, but there is no response. I press the answer button and make my way hastily from the room, heading for the kitchen.

  “Mr Morris?” I ask immediately, switching on the kettle. I'm going to need coffee, very strong coffee.

  “Ms Petrova. I trust you're well?” Bill Morris’s confident, gruff voice comes across the line.

  “Yes, fine thanks,” I reply, cursing silently as I spill a heaped teaspoon of coffee granules all over the kitchen counter. I realise with a start that I am using Kyle’s mug; I hadn’t the heart to throw it out. The moment I pour in the hot water I am treated to the sight of the bare-breasted woman adorning the front of it. I smile and force myself to focus on what the Private Investigator has to say.

  “Ms Petrova, I’m afraid the trail has run cold here in the States,” he gets to the point immediately. “If you're determined to get to the bottom of this investigation I’m going to have to travel to Ireland.”

  “Ireland?” I practically shout, willing my brain to catch up. This would be so much easier if I weren’t so hung-over. “What do you mean, Ireland?”

  “I believe that Mr Parker may have been brought to the States from Ireland as a very young boy,” he says, and I rub my forehead in consternation.

  “What makes you think that?” I ask, speaking slowly and clearly.

  “I've discovered records that show that an Irish couple travelled from Dublin Airport to JFK International three days before Adam was found in that alley. They were travelling with a small child, a little boy. He travelled as Adam Byrne, the couple’s son.”

  “And so?” I ask, wondering if I'm missing something in my delicate state.

  “Raymond and Brigid Byrne flew back to Ireland the day after Adam was taken to the orphanage; alone.” Bill gives it a moment for this to sink in.

  “You think the boy was Adam?”

  “The alley where Mr Parker was found is only a few blocks from the airport,” he explains, “and it’s surrounded by cheap airport hotels. I think it’s worth checking up on.” He places the ball firmly back in my court.

  “Ireland,” I say, knowing that this exercise will come at no small price. Bill Morris is no amateur. He is thorough and he is expensive. And his international travel expenses, I am fairly sure, will be nothing short of exorbitant. Adam and I can afford it but it will be a knock. Ireland. I think of Adam’s black curls and his wicked sapphire blue eyes. Irish. It’s possible. It would also explain why there were never any leads found; why no one could find any information on Adam’s family. Possibly they were never here – they may have been a whole continent away, all this time.

  “Ms Petrova?” Bill’s voice brings me back to the present and I make my decision.

  “Go,” I instruct, carrying my steaming cup of coffee over to the window. “Let me know what you find.”

  I flip the phone shut gazing down at the street below and the people walking by, then I sigh and return to the kitchen, making Adam a cup of black coffee, choosing the black and white mug.

  “Here you go, lazybones.” I wave the mug under his nose and sure enough he opens one bleary eye.

  “Did we drink as much as I think we did last night?” he winces, sitting up slowly and leaning back against the wooden slatted head board.

  “We did indeed.”

  “Did we catch a taxi home?” He rubs the back of his head and yawns, his mouth opening wide before he remembers to cover it with his hand.

  “We did indeed,” I nod, sipping my coffee.

  “Did we have very kinky sex?” he asks, surveying the disaster that is our bedroom.

  I grin over my mug, “We may have.”

  He rolls onto his back, his head resting on his arms.

  “I don’t really remember, the details are a bit hazy...” He regards me seriously for a minute and then, “it couldn’t have been that great.”

  I slap his bare stomach and he grabs me, flipping me over and pinning my arms to my side, a mischievous grin playing about his lips.

  “You might have to refresh my memory, Paige,” his lips curl up in a sexy smile.

  “I have to do no such thing, Adam,” I answer coyly. “It’s not my fault if you were too drunk to remember. Trust me, though, I rocked your world.”

  “Oh, I have no doubt about that,” he slings one leg over my body and uses his own body weight to hold me in place.

  I squirm helplessly and he laughs, tickling my sides.

  “Adam!” I shriek, doubling my efforts to escape. All I manage to achieve is to I flip myself over so that I am lying on my stomach. Adam laughs.

  “If this is a replay of last night I'm seriously gutted that I can’t remember it,” he moans in my ear and I laugh.

  “You're a pig, Mr Parker!”

  He flips me back over so fast I haven’t got time to think and pulls me up by my arms so that I am now sitting beneath him and he is straddling me.

  I lean back on my hands and gaze up at his gorgeous face.

  “I love you,” I say simply and he smiles down at me, pure delight crossing his features.

  “And I lo
ve you,” he replies, lowering his head and kissing me deeply.

  “Now tell me you don’t remember that!” I cajole later when we finally leave the bedroom in search of something to eat.

  “I remember,” he slaps my butt and I hop a few steps ahead. “I still think I would have preferred it if you’d stayed on your stomach, though.” He winks and I laugh out loud. I have all but forgotten my conversation with Bill Morris.

  Having worked up an appetite we set about making grilled cheese sandwiches.

  “We seriously have to do some shopping.” Adam shakes his head, surveying the measly contents of the fridge. His eyes seem almost admonishing.

  “And by we, I assume you mean me?” I ask, raising my brow querulously.

  “Well, yeah.”

  “And why, pray tell, is it my job to check that the fridge is stocked?” I ask, my hands on my hips.

  “Well, because you’re the girl,” he answers, gesturing at my chest and raising his eyebrows, as if that should be obvious. I fight the urge to slap him.

  “Okay, so I’m the girl. That's an archaic train of thought. What else?” I demand, tapping my foot. Adam, much to my irritation, looks amused.

  “Well, I’m not always here,” he says and my eyes widen in surprise before I snort with derisive laughter.

  “Oh, you didn’t,” I scold and he grins. “So you’re using the fact that you have Dissociative Identity Disorder to get out of doing the grocery shopping?” I can't believe him! The cheeky shit! Adam shrugs; yes, that is exactly what he's doing.

  “Okay. Fine.” I lift my hands from my hips and cross them in front of me.

  “Simon!” I call and Adam’s own eyes widen, half-shocked, half amused.

  “What are you doing?” he asks.

  “I’m calling Simon,” I say innocently, “I bet he'd be more than happy to do the shopping for me. He’s more a...” I pause, raising my eyes as though searching for the right words, “a new age man.” I finish with aplomb.