Every One Of Me

by Jessica Wilde

  By the time we landed in Denver, got off the plane, grabbed our bags, and found a cab, I was utterly exhausted and it was only 7 o'clock in the evening. The ride home geared up the anxiety I already felt. Seeing all the familiar buildings and houses, the streets I used to roam with my friends when I was younger, the sandwich shop we used to frequent - it was overwhelming to say the least. As the cab pulled into the driveway of the house I grew up in - that hadn't changed a bit - I was practically gasping for the precious air I need to survive. Mom didn't notice. She saw my brother's red Toyota parked on the curb and immediately started praying that the beast didn't come with him. Unfortunately, two figures were waiting for us at the door and one looked very much like a woman.

  My mother had already climbed the porch steps by the time I thanked the cab driver for helping me unload my suitcase. I looked up at the house and felt like I had never left. I know I said it hadn't changed, but damn.

  The wind chimes I had made for Mom in the 6th grade were still hanging from the eave above the porch. The giant tree in the front yard was still there with three names carved into the trunk, one of which I didn't want to think about. Even the pieces of lumber that Trevor had nailed to the tree in an attempt to build a huge tree house for me, but never finished, were still there. Even the garden was exactly the same. Tulips and daisies. Pink and white only. The only change? The bottom porch step looked like it was about to crumble. I looked up at the window to my bedroom and took a deep breath.

  Mom cleared her throat when she passed through the front door and I looked toward her. She seemed to be apprehensive about being together as a family again. It had been too long with so many unanswered questions. Tension was high.

  My fault entirely.

  Chapter 2

  Tessa

  "Hey stranger!" my brother said excitedly and wrapped me into one of his bear hugs. "So glad you are back, Tess. You have been missed."

  I hugged him back tightly and took a deep breath in. His familiar scent washed over me and brought back memories of what my life was like before I knew where it was going. He always smelled like toothpaste and Old Spice and my smile widened when I realized that hadn't changed either.

  "I've missed you guys, too," I muttered into his shoulder.

  He released me from the hug but kept his hands on my shoulders and gave me a look that only a concerned brother would give his sister. "You okay?"

  I nodded and gestured to my suitcase, "I'm great, but I would like to get unpacked before we get to all the heavy stuff."

  He chuckled and moved an arm around the shoulders of the platinum blonde beside him. "Good, but first, Tessa, this is Ellie. My fiancé. Ellie, this is my little sister, Theresa."

  I stretched my arm out to shake her hand as she assessed me from my head to my toes and then met my eyes with a genuinely fake smile before dropping her hand into mine and awkwardly shimmying it back and forth like this was her first handshake and couldn't figure out the physics of it. I smiled and tried to keep the sarcasm I was about to vomit on a tight leash. "Nice to meet you, Ellie. I hope you don't mind if I get settled in before getting to know you a bit."

  "Nope."

  That's all she said and I couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow. My mother cleared her throat from behind my brother, "Trevor, let her in for Hell's sake. She can't get settled out on the porch!"

  I dragged my suitcase in and just as Trevor was about to grab it for me, Ellie snatched his arm and whined about being cold so he had to drape his arm over her shoulders again. I saw her move for what it really was. Not because I have a sixth sense about these things, but because she gave me an evil grin when I looked back at her. Ugh! Great.

  Mom followed me up the stairs and into my old room. She always was a hoverer, but it couldn't possibly bother me now. I knew why she didn't want to leave the safety of my room. It was almost exactly how I left it. I slowly started unpacking and got a couple of things hanged before giving up and sitting on the bed next to her.

  She sighed loudly and took my hand in both of hers. "I don't know what you have been through, my dear, and you know I would never ask you to take on more than you can handle here." She paused and then looked desperately into my eyes. "But I can't handle that bitch anymore. Is there any way you could run her off for me?"

  I laughed for the first time since this morning and it felt so good under the circumstances. My mom just smiled and kissed my cheek. "Come on, let's have some tea and you can give us a synopsis before you go to bed. It's been a long day."

  When I had spoken to my mother on the phone about coming home, she didn't ask any questions. In fact, when she first found out where I was, she just asked if I was okay and told me that she loved me and would support me in whatever I needed to do. I loved that about her. Her priority was me, not the crap, and even though I know she was worried about me and was probably heartbroken that I left her, she still loved me and apparently forgave me for everything.

  Over the last year, I had stayed in contact with her and told her some of the issues I was taking care of, namely the therapy and anxiety I had been going through in trying to figure out what was happening to me. It took a year to come up with a firm diagnosis and when I had told Mom it was worse than I thought, she said there was nothing we couldn't handle together. She said she had been a witness to my 'affliction' several times, but I had been unaware that anything was happening. Like I said before, I thought it was selective amnesia and maybe the things I couldn't remember were a result of stress or that I just didn't care. Things changed when others close to me started talking to me about things I did, but couldn't remember, or started calling me a liar. By the time I put everything together, I was too upset to think clearly and too worried about the things I could possibly do to the people I loved. I had already hurt my best friend, what would I do to my mother or brother? So I left.

  Unfortunately, I left without a word until I was gone for three days and realized they would send the police out looking for me if they didn't know I was okay. Yeah, I know. Stupid of me, but hey, I was a little stressed and a little freaked out. I wasn't really thinking clearly. I had called Mom and told her not to worry too much and that I had to do this on my own and I would be in contact with her to let her know I was still okay. Obviously, it wasn't that short of a conversation and there was a lot of drama and other things said, but in the end, she said she understood and that's all that mattered to me. The contact I told her I would make ended up being a postcard every month or so for 4 years with a phone call on Mother's Day and a letter for Christmas. She took it all in stride even though I knew in my heart I was tearing out her soul a piece at a time.

  I just couldn't face them.

  Now that I was back, I had to give them some answers. One of the promises I made to Mom over the phone that last time was that I would tell her and Trevor everything and trust them to support me and be there for me no matter what it was.

  Now, I know what you are thinking. How could someone leave their family like that and not tell them anything? Well, like I said before, the last year was really the only progress I made and by then, I had told them where I was and the general idea of what I was doing.

  We all gathered in the living room with my mom's herbal tea and chocolate chip cookies. I was hoping that Ellie would be gone by the time I came down stairs. She was sitting close to Trevor on the loveseat and looked like she couldn't give a shit less about what was going on. Mom gave me a knowing look, but didn't say a word.

  Trevor was looking at his phone with a grimace and quickly looked up at me when I sat down in the recliner across from him. He tapped something in his phone and shoved it back in his pocket looking unsure of himself, which he never was. When he gave me a nervous grin, I chalked it up to being anxious about what I had to say.

  "Sooooo," he said lazily, "what's up, Tess?"

  I looked down at my hands and frowned. My brother was never one to beat around the bush and I knew, from my frequent talks with Mom, that he was concer
ned about me in an angry sort of way. I never thought he would be happy about my disappearing the way I did, but for a while I pretended like me taking off didn't matter to him.

  It's not like we were never close or anything. In fact, we were very close. We were the kind of siblings that hung out with each other. He took me along quite often whenever he would go with his friends. At the time, I thought he was doing it for Mom. Now, I think he did it just for me. Some people thought we were fraternal twins at first. We looked a lot alike except his eyes were hazel. Mine were brown. We both had the same firm chin and rosy cheeks, dark eyebrows and dark brown hair. He was very handsome and could have any girl he wanted. He was also tall and had built up more muscle since the last time I saw him.

  My brother always took care of me when we were younger. He was protective and annoying a lot of the time and chased off a lot of boys that may or may not have had good potential, but in the end I was grateful for his interference. I think, because the majority of my childhood was fatherless, he felt like he should take that position in my life. Sounds pretty unreasonable for a boy only a few years older to take up that responsibility, but I don't think things would have gone so smoothly if he hadn't.

  After he graduated from high school, he was confident in my ability to survive without him. That and I always had Charlie looking out for me. I really think he just wanted to spend a while partying it up since he didn't get that chance while he was taking care of me and Mom. I don't blame him at all. But come on… he is engaged to that? Something must have seriously gotten embedded in his brain because never in a million years would I ever picture my big brother Trevor with someone so… uh, bitchy is not the right word. Think much, much worse. And this was all decided in the few seconds I spent in her presence. Not a good sign.

  They were all waiting patiently - well, most of them were - for me to begin. I took a deep breath and a sip of tea before I started the speech I had been caught rehearsing in front of the mirror several times by Benny. She never laughed or made fun of me, she just gave me a sympathetic nod and would give me a few pointers here and there. I missed her already and knew if she were there, she would have my back and throw in a few jokes here and there to lighten the mood.

  "First of all, I'm sorry for disappearing the way I did. I know that doesn't fix anything, but I want you both to know that I regretted leaving… I just had to." Trevor nodded and my mother just smiled at me. I loved them both and worried about what me being back would do to them, but I kept going. "As you know, I had realized that something was going on when more and more things I couldn't remember were brought to my attention." Thoughts of Charlie made me pause and swallow passed the regret and shame. He was the one that had been worried enough to really get me to listen. "I also realized that I had hurt people without even knowing it. I couldn't just sit around and wait for something to happen that would hurt you two, so I left. I don't expect you to understand that, I just hope you accept it, because I can't change it."

  Trevor flinched and reached into his pocket again with an apologetic smile. His eyes flicked to me briefly when he looked at the screen and he typed quickly and jammed the phone back into his pocket before giving me his full attention again. I noticed Ellie was busy examining the color of her nails and probably trying not to roll her eyes. Her platinum blonde hair was pin straight and her eyes were like a mix of poop green and yellow barf. Sorry, only way I know how to describe them other than evil. She had a nice chest, but I wouldn't call them nice enough to distract someone from her ultimate bitchiness. That's just me, though.

  "Anyway, I moved around a little bit for several years. I had a few different jobs and made a few friends at first, but I kept noticing things that didn't make any sense. I would wake up one morning and see things around my apartment that I had never bought. Things that I would never buy. People around me called me by a different name and when I would try to correct them, they would be so confused and upset, like I had offended them or … I don't know." I ran my fingers through my hair and grasped at the little courage I had left. I described some of the things I discovered and what some of the people said I did.

  "A neighbor of mine confronted me one morning and told me I needed to get some help. Apparently, I had made quite a scene the night before and I had no recollection of anything. I'm embarrassed to say that it took as long as it did for me to admit that I couldn't just deal with it on my own. That's when I called you, Mom. I was already in Massachusetts at the time and the day after my neighbor told me that, I went straight to the first doctor I could see and was checked into the behavioral health treatment center later that day." I winced recalling that first day. The doctor had been so overwhelmed with what I had told him that he immediately contacted 'The Facility' and got me into the inpatient program. I told them I didn't have the money or insurance to pay for the program, but the doctor that was taking over my treatment said not to worry. They were overly interested in my problem and were willing to negotiate.

  "So, you have been in a mental hospital for the last year?" Ellie asked, letting us all know that the only thing she heard was 'behavioral health treatment center'.

  I shook my head and breathed through the simmer of anger I felt. "You could call it a mental hospital if that helps you understand, but it was really a treatment center for people who are trying to get help for something they can't really control. None of us were really considered mental patients."

  She shrugged as if it made no difference that her fiancé's sister might be offended by her words. I made the decision to just ignore her until I went to bed.

  "And? Did they help? Did they figure out what was wrong?" Trevor asked.

  Mom had been sitting quietly with her hands in her lap the whole time I had been speaking. She gave no indication that any of this was stressing her out or that her daughter might be considered a freak. I described some of the things that were discussed with my doctor along with some of the therapy I had gone through, then I just couldn't speak about it anymore. "I don't really feel like getting into everything tonight. A lot has happened, but I want you to know that I am continuing to receive the help I need and will hopefully find a way to control what is happening." I looked my mother in the eyes for several long seconds, then turned to Trevor and did the same. "I have been diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder."

  There was silence for a few heart beats before Ellie decided we all needed to hear her voice. "And what is that?" She looked slightly disgusted, but when she looked at Trevor and saw his expression - which was one of confusion and shock - she looked a little amused.

  I wanted to punch her stupid perfect little nose that I had no doubt was the result of plastic surgery. I spoke firmly and narrowed my eyes at my target, "It's another way of saying I have multiple personality disorder."

  Unfortunately, I didn't get to see her reaction because the loud knock on the front door made all of us jump in surprise. Trevor looked at me nervously and I glared back at him. He knew who that was and he knew I wasn't going to be happy about it. My stomach lurched when my mom gave him a stern, but knowing glance and hurried to the door.

  My heart rate jumped and I tried to force my body to get up and run like a bat out of hell to the safety of my bedroom and barricade the door. My body wasn't cooperating, though, and I was too busy doing the breathing exercises I had been taught to go through when I felt a build-up of stress. I couldn't see the front door from where I was sitting. The wall separating the living room from the foyer just blocked the recliner I was sitting in. If I really wanted to see, however, all I had to do was stand and move back about three feet.

  Trevor hadn't taken his eyes off of me and Ellie was back to looking at her nails. The deafening sound of the doorknob turning and short squeak of the heavy door being pulled open almost burst through the little control I had.

  Trevor took a deep breath, "I'm sorry, Tess. He just--"

  "Where is she?" I heard the deep familiar baritone coming from the front door and was on my f
eet before I could stop myself.

  "We just got home not even an hour ago," my mom said quietly.

  Two more steps and I would be in full view, and yes, my feet were already going. I could now see my mother's small frame blocking everything from the shoulders down of the one man I was not prepared to see, but strangely, had seen every single day for the last 5 years every time I closed my eyes.

  "Sarah, please. I have to see--" His words stopped abruptly when he looked up and saw me in the doorway. His brilliant green eyes roamed over my face before taking in the rest of me. He exhaled sharply as if he had been holding that particular breath for far too long. His face was still familiar, but more masculine with a stronger jaw line and a darker complexion. His eyes were as green as grass in late spring and his hair was still the perfect dark brown I remembered. His nose was just slightly crooked like it had been broken and his lips, the part of him I had always tried to forget, were… still his. Soft, full, and powerful. "Tess," he whispered.

  My knees almost buckled hearing my name on those lips, but I was stronger now. I could control my reactions to him. Right? My shaking hands were trying to convince me otherwise. It was like the last 5 years had never happened and I was still the same 18 year old girl who pined after her best friend in secret and became incredibly skilled at hiding the way she felt. I thought I would have been a crumbling mess from the lack of practice, but surprisingly enough, I was still standing strong.

  Then my mother moved out of the way and I got a look at the rest of him. I had to grasp the door frame for support. He used to be skinny. Not scrawny, but skinny and kind of boyish. But in the last five years, he had become a man and had obviously been working out. A lot.

  His shoulders were much wider than I remembered and I couldn't recall his t-shirts hugging his torso quite that deliciously before. I could tell that his stomach was ripped from where I stood and I just knew, without seeing, that if he were to take his shirt off, he would have that glorious V at his hips and his jeans would hang just right.