by Portia Moore
“We don’t have that right now, but we can get them for you, we’ll let you review everything we have,” Mrs. Scott says patiently.
“No I don’t want to see anything Dexter could make this stuff up. I-I don’t believe you!” I snap with cruel sarcasm.
“You don’t have a choice!” her husband tells me angrily.
“Why should I believe what you’re saying?” I say, trying to calm myself which isn’t an easy task right now.
“We have no reason to lie to you!” Mr. Scott yells. “Our son is back home! Chris is back, Cal is gone, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure it stays that way!” he tells me coldly.
“William!” Mrs. Scott says, almost appalled. She looks at me nervously, and I can feel my mouth agape.
“I told you she wouldn’t believe us,” Mr. Scott mumbles to his wife.
“I want to talk to Cal right now,” I tell him viciously.
“Please, just let us explain,” Mrs. Scott begs, trying to calm the high tension in the room between Mr. Scott and I. “I know that this must be overwhelming for you, but if you just give me a chance to explain…,” she pleads.
After a moment of staring her husband down, I take a seat. In an effort to keep my hands from shaking, I clasp them together tightly.
“Before this started to happen, our son was mild mannered and polite, very hard working and caring,” her warm smile hardens as she continues.
“But around his seventeenth birthday, he began to act differently. It started with little things; he began to act out of character. He didn’t want to do chores around the house, which was strange because Chris had always offered his help to us. He knew that we didn’t have the means to run this farm alone. Then suddenly we found ourselves having to ask him for help, even demand it. Soon after that, his teachers notified us that he was missing homework assignments and skipping classes… everything that wasn’t our son.
“You have to understand that this wasn’t like him at all,” Mrs. Scott says with a sorrowful look on her face. It sounds very familiar to me the, disappearing at random, never showing up when expected, having to beg him for answers…
“Chris is extremely bright, and school has always been very important to him. But during this change, his behavior at school became so bad and erratic that we had to have a conference with the principal to keep him from being expelled,” she explains.
“They told us that Chris’s behavior was atrocious. He had disobeyed teachers, walked out of class when he felt like it, picked fights with other students. Normally, our son didn’t even like to argue; he had taken boxing lessons when he was younger but never initiated confrontation, so we couldn’t believe what we were hearing,” she sighs, taking a cleansing breath, and continuing.
“They described him as being a completely different person to the boy they taught years earlier. We knew he was acting differently at home, but we never guessed it had gone to this extent…” she starts to drift off and Mr. Scott comforts her.
“We thought at first it was just a phase,” Mrs. Scott continues, “being a normal, rebellious teenager. At home, his behavior wasn’t nearly as bad as what his teachers described,” she pauses and a pained expression takes hold of her face.
“When we confronted him about it, he broke down, he told us he didn’t know what was going on, and that something was happening to him. He told us he’d get urges to do or say things, and that he had no control over his own actions. He then admitted that he was having black outs. That he’d wake up in the morning and, in the blink of an eye, hours would pass and he’d have no idea where he’d been or what he’d done. If you can imagine someone telling you that, it’s the scariest thing you could ever experience, especially when it’s coming from someone you love. If you could have seen the fear in his eyes when he told us about this… He was terrified...and so were we.
“We told him that we’d have him see a therapist. That we’d find out what was going on with him. That next day, he was gone. We looked everywhere for him, all around town, neighboring counties, we couldn’t find him. Five days later, he came home. He was driving a car that cost more than our farms annual income, that he didn’t remember getting into. And, there was over twenty thousand dollars in the trunk of it,” Mrs. Scott recalls, shaking her head at the thought of it.
“We had no idea what we were dealing with up until that point,” Mr. Scott finally joins in. “Chris had never given us any problems at all, let alone problems as serious as what we were dealing with then. Our son was so afraid of what he was doing when he suffered these losses of time, and so were we. He had us lock him in his room. We turned to the only person that we knew could help us—my stepfather Dexter Crest Field Sr.,” Mr. Scott explains, and I see him clenching his fists at the name.
“He provided Chris with the best psychiatric help money could buy; we hoped that it would make Chris better. After three sessions, the doctor called us in to speak with her. She told us that Chris was exhibiting a form of dissociative personality disorder, a kind that she’d never seen before. Most cases are caused by a traumatic event that the person can’t handle, thus creating an alter who can. But in Chris’s case, there was no specific traumatic event that happened; it was as if his personality was always divided. It was as if this alter was growing with him,” Mr. Scott says, a look of frustration on his face.
“The doctor told us she’d met Chris’s alter the first session, which was uncommon. She explained that it usually took many sessions to get the alter to come forward, but this one confronted her immediately,” he explains and waits for a response from me. I sit quietly absorbing what I’m hearing waiting for him to continue.
Mrs. Scott picks up where her husband left off, “You have to understand that we’ve never faced problems like these. We had a hard time believing what we were hearing, and I know you do too. Even if she was the best in her field, we still had doubts. But seeing is believing; His doctor told us to sit in on a session with her and we’d meet him. We were skeptical the entire time, but she hypnotized Chris, or what she called bringing him to a state of unconsciousness, and she asked for his alter to come out. That was the day we met Cal.”
“I was never a firm believer in the mental problem mumbo jumbo, until I came face to face with it,” Mr. Scott says, looking down at his own hands.
“This person looked like our son, sounded like our son, but he was nothing like our son. He was… mean, cocky… nothing like our son,” he recollects.
“He also had a temper,” Mr. Scott continues, “and he had no interest in the life that we built for him as Chris, or the life that he had built for himself. He made it clear that he was in no way our son, and that he had no intentions of having anything to do with us. He had big plans for his life, bigger plans than farm life,” I look up into Mr. Scott’s eyes, and I can almost see hatred there.
I start to feel my stomach knot. This life, these people don’t fit Cal at all. But this can’t be true. This can’t happen. Out of all of the people for this to happen to, why me? Why the person I fall in love with? I close my eyes; even as crazy as this all seems, it sort of makes sense.
“We were afraid he would hurt someone, or do something that would land Chris in jail. We couldn’t control him, so we decided to send him to live with my stepfather’s son. Dexter Jr.” Mr. Scott says.
“You’ve met the Crest Fields, so you know what that meant,” he says his voice is sullen. I can’t help but clench my own hands together tightly at the name, the thought of how long Dexter kept me in the dark sends flames of anger through my veins. Mr. Scott notices my discomfort at the mention of Dexter Crest Field and continues, “It’s not an association I claim proudly. A name I chose not to take even with its privileges, but it was a good fit for Cal. And we knew with them he’d have everything he wanted and wouldn’t have to harm people or steal, endangering our son’s life. Of course Dexter Jr. was one of the people that Cal actually liked. He didn’t care for us much. When Chris would rega
in control he’d come home, and when Cal took over he’d just leave.
“Two years ago my wife received some news that was life changing for our entire family,” Mr. Scott trails off and his wife takes his hand squeezing it.
“I was diagnosed with stage 3 cancer,” she says quietly. “We asked Dexter Jr. to tell Cal. Shortly after that Chris regained control and came home and he didn’t leave again,” he finishes quietly. I try to wrap my mind around everything I’ve just heard. I think back to two years ago and suddenly, I’m seeing in my mind’s eye the last night I spent with Cal, when he left me after getting a phone call from Dexter. It dawns on me that could it have been at that moment… My thoughts are jumbled, but my heart still goes out to her to know what Cal had to be going through at that moment, and he didn’t have anyone to comfort him or help him through what he was dealing with.
“I’m really sorry that happened to you,” I try to remain sensitive, but my mind is still reeling from all of this. “This, this can’t be true,” I whimper to myself, head in my hands as I sit, taking in all of the information I’ve just heard. What I’ve just said is to try and convince myself, but what these two people are telling me coincide perfectly with everything that’s happened. I feel a hand touch my shoulder, but I pull away willing myself not to believe what I’m hearing, I don’t want to accept this.
“If this is true, if I happen to believe all this, why didn’t anyone tell me?” I ask out of frustration at the situation.
“You had to have known about me! Dexter knew about me. I sat in his house. I ate dinner with him… He became my friend! And no one told me!” I look them both in the eye.
“We didn’t know at first. Cal saw a lot of women,” Mr. Scott says dismissively, his words harsh.
“We didn’t know Cal was serious about you.” His trails off looking at his feet. His wife stands, wringing her hands together nervously, the tension still high between her husband and me.
“The day Dexter called and told us he was engaged was the first time we were told about you,” Mrs. Scott says.
“He said that you were a good person… that you were good for Cal. He told us that when you were with Cal, he was as close to Chris as he could get. His doctor said that you could probably help him get better, bringing him in touch with a side of himself that he hadn’t recognized, with kindness, warmth, and love.”
“What about me? You keep saying what everyone thought was best for Cal, for Chris? What about me, did anyone stop to think that what this would do to me? Did anyone for a second stop to look at me as a person and not some form of treatment!” I shout angrily.
“Yes! That made me want to tell you more about him, the real him. I-I came to see you. You didn’t know who I was, of course. I asked for you to come down, but Cal did instead, and he stopped me. I asked him not to marry you. I said that he’d hurt you, and he became furious with me. He told me that he loved you more than anything and that he’d never hurt you, and that if we told you anything, we’d never see Chris again,” she looks down guiltily. And the realization hits me like a ton of bricks. I recognize her now as the red headed woman who came to see me the night of our engagement party. I feel like I’m going to throw up.
“I begged him to tell you the truth. That he couldn’t live a lie with you forever,” she continues tears streaming down her cheeks.
“He kept talking about something he was taking that would fix his problem, that would get rid of Chris completely,” she says the last part with a sigh. “When I heard that I was afraid of what he was doing. I hoped he was lying and my main concern was to make sure he wasn’t doing something to hurt himself,” she wipes away her tears.
“We wanted to tell you. We knew that you deserved the truth, but we couldn’t risk losing our son,” tears pour from her eyes like a fountain and I shake the compassion my heart is trying to feel. This isn’t about them right now.
They honestly seem like good people. I think back to all the times when Cal left, how he never told me anything about his family. I remember Dexter’s words, how he told me that if I looked for Cal, I wouldn’t find him. I touch my throbbing temples, and begin to cry. If this is all true, the person who’s my husband, who’s the father of my child isn’t real. But no, I can’t accept that. Cal is real; at least, he is when he is around.
I lift my head to see Mrs. Scott looking at me with sympathy etched on her face. I don’t know what to say. What do I say to this? My mind suddenly drifts to this afternoon’s event. I take a deep breath, clearing my throat as best I can, and take the Kleenex Mrs. Scott hands to me.
“So, today-earlier, he’s… his name is Chris?” I stutter out.
Mrs. Scott nods.
“So I’m… nothing at all to him?” I ask, wringing the edge of my t-shirt.
“It’s because he doesn’t know what Cal does when he takes over,” Mr. Scott says in a low, stressed tone.
I stop to think for a second, processing his words. “Wait a minute!” I say, the realization hitting me. “You never told him anything?”
Mrs. Scott looks down in shame.
“We thought it would be best for him not to know. He’s already carrying so much that we decided it would be for the best,” Mr. Scott explains.
My mouth drops open. “You never…? He doesn’t know about Cal? About me? About… You let him get engaged to another woman, knowing he was married?” I say sharply, standing up.
“Technically, he’s not married to you. You’re Cal’s wife, not Chris’s,” he says coldly. His wife’s head immediately whips around to look at him.
“I’m Cal’s wife?” I shout. “You never bothered to tell me that Cal isn’t real, so right now, I’m married to your son!”
“That monster you fell in love with is not my son!” he shouts back.
“Cal is not a monster! He is not this evil person you’re making him out to be. He may not be perfect but he’s a good person!” I tell him angrily.
“Cal is the worst thing that ever happened to our family!” he growls at me.
“How dare you! You have no right, especially after this to throw around ethical judgments about anyone. You don’t know anything about Cal and if that’s how you feel you don’t deserve to!” I say defensively.
“You know nothing about him!” he shouts. The words sting me because I don’t know what the hell is going on, and if this is true Cal has ripped our life apart but I won’t let them stand here berate Cal with such hatred. I don’t know what to believe at this point but I won’t let anyone talk about Cal that way, he’s still my daughter’s father and if his dad treated him like this I know exactly why he left.
“William, stop!” his wife orders, and he immediately acquiesces.
“Does he even know what he has? That he has two personalities?” my voice starts to shake.
“He knows he’s suffered episodes of time loss, but to this extent, no. It’s a part of his treatment to slowly tell him about Cal. If we spring it all on him, he could break down and make things worse. He doesn’t need this right now, he’s finally getting better,” Mr. Scott says his tone calming down.
“Better? You’re saying he’s getting better? How can he be better when he doesn’t know that he has a wife and a child? What do you want me to do? Disappear? Let him have this happy little life with you and hi” I shout.
“A child?” Mrs. Scott mumbles. Her eyes are wide as she repeats the words.
“You’ve had almost two years, and you haven’t told him anything. You weren’t even going to tell me anything…”
“We’re going to tell Chris, we just need more time, we need his doctor. But you have to understand that you’re a part of Cal’s life, that Chris has his own. Cal isn’t here, and our ultimate goal is to get rid of Cal completely!” he says pointedly and my heart skips a beat.
“William…” Mrs. Scott grabs her husband’s arm, her eyes still wide as she tries to get her husband’s attention.
“We will tell Chris and Jenna, but we’re going
to tell them when it’s the right time. We hope that you will respect our decision to do it at our discretion,” he continues looking me straight in the eye.
“William!” his wife shrieks frantically.
“Did you hear what she said?” she says, her voice cracking as tears well in her eyes. I wipe away my own tears. “She says they have a child, William.”
His frown softens and his eyebrow arches. Their eyes both turn to me. I’m feeling another wave of anger and confusion welling up inside of me.
“You have a baby?” he asks quietly. I don’t say anything, frowning at both of them. I grab my purse, take out my phone to show them a picture of Caylen, and hand it to Mrs. Scott. I can’t help but notice the shocked expression on her face. I turn to her husband and his matches hers, from the looks of them, it as if it’s the first time they’ve heard anything about it.
“D-Dexter never told us that you were pregnant. We never knew anything about this,” he says, his tone cold but his expression softening.
“According to you, her father’s not this Chris person. Her father is the monster that you want to get rid of!” I say harshly.
“What’s her name?” Mrs. Scott says so softly I have to strain to make it out. A smile spreads across her face and her eyes water as she looks into the picture. “She looks just like him,” her voice breaks, and she covers her mouth.
“You have a daughter with Chris?” he says sullenly. It’s funny that now I have a baby with Chris, when a minute ago I was married to Cal.
“Look at her William, she’s beautiful,” she says earnestly and tries to show the picture to her husband. He glances at it for a moment, then scowls again angrily.
“It’s bad enough he took it upon himself to marry this woman, but to have a child. I didn’t think even he’d sink that low,” he walks back over to the window and hits the window pane.
“William calm down.”
“How could he do this? Why wouldn’t Dexter tell us about this?”
“William we have a grandchild!” she says, trying to focus on the one positive thing in the room.