by Portia Moore
I feel myself flinch. “Oh,” is all I can manage to say.
“I just… I didn’t want to mention it but, I want to be honest with you. No secrets between us.”
I can’t say what she just said doesn’t sting. He bought her a gallery and helped her open it. While Cal and I drive her crazy, he swoops in and becomes the good guy.
“You deserve it, Lauren.” I walk over to her and pull her into a hug. She feels so good and smells as good as she looks. She rests her head on my chest and relaxes in my arms.
“I’m sorry you have to deal with all of this,” I whisper to her, she looks up at me and smiles.
“I’d rather be in it than out.”
I kiss her forehead. “Did you miss me?” I didn’t want to ask, but it just comes out.
“Of course I did,” she tells me, and her expression is so open and honest.
“So you were okay while I was gone?” She nods and I’m glad that she was okay, but I can’t say that it hurts. With Cal, he usually screws something up when he comes back, but with this guy…
“Were you happy?”
Her smile fades. “Let’s not do this Chris.” She steps away from me.
“It’s just a question,” I say, but my voice sounds desperate.
“There’s not a right answer for me to give you, is there?” she asks sullenly.
“I want you to be happy.” I mean it with every fiber in me.
She nods, a sad smile on her face. “But only if it’s with you right?”
I start to say that she’s wrong, but is that what I want? Do I only want her to be happy with me and miserable with them? No, I don’t want that for her or Caylen. But what does that mean? Is she saying that it doesn’t matter if it’s with me or not? I feel my jaw flinch.
“That’s what I thought,” she says quietly, but she looks more disappointed than angry, and that hurts more than anything because I can’t help her. Hell, I can’t even help myself.
“Your appointment with Helen is in an hour.”
I used to hear the word integration and just hoped for that to mean I’d be fixed. Now when I hear it, it makes my blood go cold.
Before this guy appeared I always thought if integration ever happened, it’d be me in the end. Now I’m terrified because if this guy knows so much, isn’t against integration, and wants this to happen—what if it’s not me—what if I’m an alter?
No, that’s ridiculous.
I know one thing. I’m the hero, and the hero always wins.
“It’s good to see you, Christopher.” Helen saunters into the office. It’s different from the one I used to see her in. This one is bigger, more modern, large picture windows overlooking the backdrop of the city. It’s also on the nineteenth floor, which didn’t help things. I try to push down the seething resentment I have when I see her and Dexter. I thought I’d gotten over it, but each time I see them it starts to peek through.
“I wish I could say the same thing,” I tell her adjusting my position in the chair I’m in. It’s more like a sofa than a chair, and it’s too comfortable. Maybe it’s here to make you think you’re having a simple conversation with a friend than a visit with a doctor—or in my case a doctor that deliberately keeps things from you.
“Yes, I can imagine I’m not on the list of your first people to see.” She doesn’t look the least bit offended at my statement. She settles into the chair behind her desk. I remember her other desk being bigger, there was more of a separation between us.
“Why did you come?”
“Because Lauren said I have an appointment,” I tell her tightly. My plan to make friends with Helen is off to a terrible start. I’m not a pretender or an opportunist. How do I do this?
“But that doesn’t mean that you had to come does it?”
And just like that, I’m already annoyed at the questions she’s asking.
“You’re angry with me,” she says pointedly. My initial reaction is to tell her I’m not, but if I’m being honest, I am.
“It’s okay, Chris. You can tell me that.”
Of course I could tell her that, but it doesn’t really matter how I feel towards her. I need her if I want to get better. I have to talk to her.
“You seem to be in deep thought. You do know this is a safe space. Nothing you say will offend me, and I won’t use it against you.”
“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me about my condition. It seems like if you’re on anyone’s side, it’s Cal’s or… this Collin guy for all I know,” I tell her pointedly.
“It was a decision made by several parties who all share your best interest. You weren’t ready to know at that point. It was a very difficult decision to make, but one that was ultimately decided for your benefit.”
“Who were the several parties? My parents, Dexter or Cal and Collin?” I ask her pointedly. “And how do you think I can trust you after hiding something like that from me?”
“I understand that you feel you can’t trust me. It was a risk I knew would have consequences when the decision was made. However, I do promise you, from this day going forward if you choose to continue to see me that I won’t keep anything from you.” Her voice is even, calming almost. If I didn’t know her, it could possibly lull me into believing her. What use is the promise of a liar?
“Regardless of how you feel about what happened, I can help you. I am highly qualified and I do my job extremely well. Things have changed since we used to meet. You are aware of your condition and have a foundation that I can build on. I can help you.” Her tone is more direct instead of the pacifying one she used earlier.
I fold my arms across my chest. “And what exactly does helping me mean?” I ask her coldly.
She smiles as if my attitude doesn’t bother her. “What do you think helping you means?”
“Integration. That’s what the solution is right?” I ask.
“Is that what you would want?” Her question catches me off guard.
“What do you mean?” I ask her, sitting up in my chair. What does it matter what I want, it’s the plan, the solution I thought.
“I always thought that that was the answer, that’s what all of the websites say.”
“The majority of people who suffer from your disorder find peace with what integration is. Do you know what integration is?”
“It’s when all of us come together.”
“Do you understand what that means?’ She asks, and I’m quiet. I don’t really understand what that means, and that’s the scary part about it.
“We’ll be one, all of us…” I clear my throat. Just the thought of being one with them terrifies me.
“And how do you feel about that?”
“Honestly,” I laugh coldly.
“There is no point to these sessions if you’re not honest.”
“I don’t want to be one with them. I want to be me. I want to know what’s going on in my life without being filled in on it after waking up with no clue of what’s going on. I don’t want to share it with them. If you told me there was a way to get rid of them, that’s what I’d want. If integration means getting rid of them and shutting them up, then that’s what I’d like to work on.” I let out a deep breath when I finish. She doesn’t look surprised by my outburst at all, but I guess my response is normal.
“Them is you, Christopher.” She says this as if it’s so simple, and I roll my eyes.
“Well, it doesn’t feel like it.”
“Let’s start from the beginning.” She pulls out an iPad and a stylus, and I groan. If we’re starting from the beginning, I’m doomed because that means this will take a long time. How far off is integration if we’re only at the beginning?
“Dissociative identity disorder is—”
“I know what it is Helen,” I say not hiding my frustration.
“Chris, since you’ve never seen me in regards to your condition, I don’t know where your information comes from or if it’s even accurate. Without an appropriate understanding of
what you’re dealing with, no treatment that we’ll undergo will be beneficial to you so please if you will…”
“Fine,” I say quietly.
“As I was saying…” she grins at me.
“Dissociation isn’t abnormal. Everyone does it.” She says and I scoff. I don’t remember my parents running around calling themselves by different names and not remembering it.
“It may sound strange, but daydreaming is a prime example. Drifting off into another state of consciousness is dissociating. The issue is when it becomes disruptive, as yours has become. When it interferes with your daily life. When a traumatic event happens to someone and they use it as a form of coping or blocking out the event, it falls into the category of becoming dysfunctional. There are several conditions that involve dissociation. I have ruled them out in your case. Initially I thought that you could have a borderline personality disorder, but I ruled that out when I realized your egos were more compartmentalized.”
“After you met Cal and Collin?” I ask her, and she nods.
“I want you to understand that there is no person on this Earth that has a totally integrated personality. For instance, I’m sure when you taught classes that you behaved differently with your students than you would behave with your co-workers or from how you would be with your friends. Another example could be when someone is invited out to an event and they’d say a part of me wants to go, but another part of me wants to stay in,” she says.
“So you’re saying that those people have DID?” I ask her confused.
“No, what I’m saying is a person with DID experiences that on a more extreme level. With your condition the boundaries between your personality parts are more distinct. Try to think of Cal and Collin as parts of your personality gone rouge, but they’re still you,” she says softly.
“They don’t feel like they’re me, not even a little.”
“Why don’t they?”
“Because they’re the complete opposites of me. At least Cal is from what I know and I don’t know what to think of Collin. They don’t make any decisions that I would, and I do know this Collin is even further from me in how I talk and dress than Cal is.”
She leans in forward from her desk. “Have you ever had a day when you woke up in a great mood, where you are in such a good mood that you decide to put a little more effort into your appearance, where you’re more tolerant of someone that you usually can’t stand? Or when in a bad mood the patience you’d usually exhibit is extremely short? Those are just small examples of what you’re dealing with to a more extreme level.”
I run my hand over my head, and it’s weird feeling prickly hair sticking out of my scalp than the hair that’s normally there.
“One thing that I’d like for you to make a priority is not being embarrassed or ashamed of your condition,” she says quietly. “What your mind did is an amazing feat. The defense it created was not only psychological, but neurobiological. It protected you from an event that could have destroyed you. Instead of that happening, it adjusted and modified itself to protect you. That your mind is capable of that is something to be admired,” she says almost impressed.
I’m not as impressed by it. “What I don’t understand is why I’m still stuck like this? If we know why it happened—what Cal or I did when I was a kid—why are they still here?”
“You have to understand, Chris that your mind has been functioning like this way for over twenty years. To think just the discovery of what caused it to function the way it does would automatically cause it to revert back to how it was originally conceived is unreasonable wouldn’t you think?”
I start to feel my defenses lower. She’s explained more to me in five minutes than I’ve been able to put together myself in I don’t know how long.
“So what am I looking at Helen? How long until I’m fixed because right now I feel pretty broken,” I tell her honestly.
“What I don’t think most people understand is that integration isn’t a magical moment that everything comes together. For most people it’s a very long process that each alter has to be open to, including you.”
When she says that I swallow hard. “Long process… how long?” I feel slightly on edge.
“It could take years,” she says gently.
I angrily stand out of my seat. “Years?!” I laugh and shake my head. “I don’t have years, Helen. I can’t live like this for years! Lauren won’t make it with us for years!” I tell her frantically.
“Christopher, breathe.” She is trying to calm me, but my heart is beating faster than it was just a moment ago. My throat is becoming dry, and that dull ache that’s familiar is coming on stronger….
Cal
“Christopher, are you okay?” My head feels full of shit. I open my eyes and my vision is blurry. As it clears, I see Helen sitting in front of me.
“Wrong,” I tell her moving to the chair in her office, I flop down.
“Cal?” I give her a thumbs up.
“Are you okay?” She stands and walks over to me.
“No. That jerk-off has shut me out, and it’s never been this hard to come through. Fuck, my head hurts.” I scratch the back of my head, and feel scalp. “What the hell, am I bald?”
“Not exactly.” She laughs and hands me a mirror.
I look into it. “I look like a fucking jar head.” I hand her back the mirror.
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
“That prick Collin was in here, and you wanted to talk to me, and I wanted him to know our deal is over. Somehow he cut me off, and I don’t remember anything since then.”
“He said something about that,” she sighs and hands me a water from the mini fridge. “So you have no consciousness of the past three days?”
“I’ve been out for three days!” That little son of a bitch.
“That’s interesting,” she says sitting on top of her desk.
“Interesting! That’s not fucking interesting. He’s going to pay!”
“Calm down, Cal. You obviously aren’t exactly yourself right now,” she says in her signature condescending tone.
“Of course I’m not because I’m keeping him out.”
Her eyes widen. “You’re not used to doing that Cal,” she says concerned.
“No shit, but he’s not going to one up me. Asshole. He must not be used to doing it either. I think that’s why Chris came back,” I add.
“I was wondering about that,” she mutters.
“Collin’s off his hinges, and he wants to take over,” I tell her angrily. She looks at me in disbelief. “I’m telling you he does,” I shout.
“Why would he want to do that?” Her stupid crazy-patient tone drives me up the wall.
“Don’t do that shit with me, Helen. I know you,” I remind her. She frowns. “He’s been in the driver’s seat too long. I’m telling you what he’s going to try to do! I know I’m right because I can feel it,” I rub my temples. “I need an aspirin or something.” I hold my head between my legs. Is this what Chris feels when he goes in an out? Shit, this sucks.
“I don’t think aspirin is going to work, Cal. You’re not strong enough to block him and Chris out at the same time,” she says and I wave her off, but the hammer that feels like it’s hitting my skull makes me think she might be right.
“I want to talk to Chris,” I groan.
“You want to talk to Chris?” she asks in disbelief.
“Yes!” Doesn’t she see I’m in too much pain to keep repeating myself.
“You haven’t been able to reach him?”
“I’ve been blocked out. He can’t hear my voice,” I tap my foot to try to distract myself from the pain. “I want to meet with him. Can you teach him how to do that?” I feel my limbs start to tremble.
“Of course,” she says. “He seems more open to treatment, so I’ll do my best.”
“How long do you think it’ll take?” The pain is so bad my eyes are starting to water.
“I’m not sure Cal. I’m
worried about you, though. I’ve never seen you like this.”
I take in a long breath. “Record me now,” I tell her. “I mean give me a minute, but I need to get a message to Chris.” I close my eyes and try to block out the pain. I hear her ruffle through her drawers.
“Okay, let me know when you want to start.”
I let out a few breaths and try to block and push away the pain. “Okay, go ahead.” I sit up in my chair pretending that it doesn’t feel like there’s shards of glass being pushed into my head.
“Are we on?” I ask her and she nods. “It’s me. The guy you think made your life a living hell, right?” I laugh, trying to hide the pain that’s splitting my head. “Well, if you think that, you’re fucking delusional. Without me, Caylen and Lauren wouldn’t be in your life. You’d probably be married to that stuck-up bitch Jenna.”
“Cal, come on. You said you’d be nice,” Helen scolds me.
“Okay, let me get straight to the point. I want to do right by Lauren. I left her once because I thought I was doing the right thing.” Thinking of Lauren makes it harder to focus, but I have to. This is for Lauren.
“I wanted her to have someone better than me.” I pause. “Well not better—because let’s be honest it doesn’t get any better than this—but more responsible, reliable. Someone who didn’t have the shitload of baggage we do,” I shrug. There haven’t been many times in my life I ever thought anyone was better than me, but better for Lauren than me. No one could be better to Lauren than me.
“I never wanted Lauren to know you. It always seemed like everything in life came so easy for you. I thought you’d be easier for her to love than me. I have to laugh thinking back on it all—how much of an idiot I was to not realize then that the girl who caught me by surprise would turn my life upside down—she’d make me fall in love with her.
“I’ve been trying to fix things for her. Make things right, and give her everything she deserves.” I sigh. “She doesn’t deserve us fighting against each other. Telling her to pick and choose all the time. Confusing the hell out of Caylen when she gets older. You are the responsible one. The selfless one. You could be a good dad. But God, sometimes you’re a fucking pussy, man.” I groan thinking of how weak he is most of the time. Helen shoots me a warning glare.