by Portia Moore
When I wake up, the room is clean of all the bags and boxes from earlier.
“I made you breakfast,” I look over and see Chris sitting with a tray of what looks like pancakes, bacon, and a glass of orange juice. I sit up in shock. He’s completely dressed, wearing one of the few T-shirts and jeans he brought with him when we came back to Chicago. It looks like his hair has already started to grow back—the prickles of hair seem to be peeking out more than they were the day before.
“Thank you,” I pull the sheet over my naked body and he sits the tray on my lap.
“Where’s your mom and Caylen?” I ask taking a sip of orange juice to clear away my morning breath.
“At the park and then they’re going to the library. My session is in about an hour and I’ll be heading out.” He steals a piece of my bacon, and I giggle taking a bite of it. My eyes sweep over him, and he seems as if a burden has been lifted off him. Last night, he made love to me and it was sweet and fun. He was so playful during it that I felt like I was in high school all over again. The times Chris and I have slept together it was always intense and slow, but this time it was different.
“You seem different today,” I glance at him unable to contain my own grin. He smiles at me.
“Well, it’s still me,” he teases and I’m so surprised at how light and casual he is about it. He turns his body fully toward me and rubs the back of his neck.
“I think I’ve been looking at this through the wrong lens.” He shakes his head as if he’s figured out a problem he’s been working years to solve. I look at him curiously. “With what we have—the resources, the money, the influence that Crestfield Corp has—we could do great things,” he says excitedly.
“My mom and I have worked at that Kreuk place for years. Scraping barely enough together to implement programs for people who otherwise wouldn’t have access to what most people take for granted. It helped, and it felt good, but we weren’t able to do as much as we wanted.” His smile softens.
“But with the money that Crestfield pays me and having access to the resources they have, I could really do some good.” His eyes light up with excitement. He is genuinely happy, and it makes me happy for him. To know that he cares about people outside of himself, it warms my heart and I set aside the tray and crawl over to him and sit on his lap. He looks surprised but amused.
“You’re amazing, Chris.” I kiss him softly on the lips.
“You’re amazing, Lauren. I jumped to conclusions about you. Though you are rich, you’re so down to earth. I guess I don’t have a good history with rich people, and you never seemed like one,” he chuckles.
“I’m rich?” I ask in amused disbelief.
“You have ten times more money than anyone I know. Well, aside from the Crestfields,” he says.
“Well, you sort of are a Crestfield now,” I tease him back regretting the words as soon as I say them. His eyes crinkle a bit, and he lets out a small breath.
“I am and I plan on exploiting that name as much as I can to do as much good that can be done,” he tells me confidently. I kiss him again just for being Chris. I think I’ve fallen in love with this man all over again in the span of a day.
“I wanted to ask you something.” I smile at him bashfully. “About the song you played last night…” He looks at me and I see his cheek turn a bright shade of red.
“Did you like it?” He grips my waist tighter, and I bite my lip as I feel him come alive under me.
“Yes,” I tell him flirtatiously. “But what made you pick that song?” I ask him, as I feel the sheet being pulled down from my body. My breathing picks up.
“What do you mean?” His eyes glide over me, and I fight myself to not cover my body and allow him to see me, to let him know that I know I’m his.
“It’s one of my favorite songs. I played it all the time right before we got married,” I am proud of myself that I used the word we and not Cal. He flinches though, and the playful, lustful gaze he had is lost and has now turned serious.
“I know,” his face scrunches up as if he’s in deep thought.
“You know?”
“I remember,” he tells me quietly and my heart stumbles over itself.
“You remember?”
“It’s strange because I didn’t have a memory or a flashback. I just sort of knew,” he explains, seemingly confused himself. He scratches his head and I sit back on the bed.
“That’s great,” I tell him happily. For him to remember that—it’s small but it’s something—and for him to remember without actually trying is huge to me.
“Yeah,” he agrees but he doesn’t look too excited. His brow is furrowed and he seems like he’s in deep thought. I take his hand.
“It’s a good thing, Chris,” I take his face in my hands, and he smiles softly at me.
“Yeah,” he says before kissing me, but the energy that was just here before, how easy it was, is now different. If Chris was removing bricks off of his chest, I just set one back on it.
Chapter Ten
Chris
“Solo today?” Helen says as she walks into the office. Lauren has agreed to come to some sessions with me, and we agreed that some sessions I’ll come alone. Helen seems to be in a good mood today. I wish I was in a better mood today. Yesterday was one of the best days I’ve had in a long time. Finding out that I have the means and the resources to do something good and being able to buy Lauren and Caylen things without worrying about the price are some of the best feelings ever.
I never experienced that before. I would have never considered myself poor growing up— my parents have had the farm since before I was born, and we always had two cars and a nice home—but my parents raised me to be responsible with money because after the necessities there wasn’t a lot to splurge on, and even less left to really make a difference in the world with. But now that seems possible. With this money, I can now breathe and not think about how bad things have been, or about the things I haven’t had a chance to do because now I have a chance to do more than I ever imagined. Lauren looked so beautiful when I woke her up last night. I fought with myself whether to let her sleep or not, but I wanted to share how I was feeling with her, to show her that I’m not the sad mopey one all the time. Seeing the way she looked at me, not them but me, how she moaned my name and lay in my arms—I wanted to just enjoy the time with my wife. And even this morning, watching her sleep and talking to her about what the future could hold felt great, but then she brought up that song.
“You seem to be in deep thought—how about you share?” She grins at me like a concerned old friend and I let out a deep frustrated breath. It’s our fourth session together and I feel more comfortable with her, but sometimes it feels like pulling teeth to open up to her. Opening up means getting answers and I need those, especially with the opportunity I have to really make things right. With all of the time that’s been taken away from me, it would all be worth it if I’m able to really do something good. It would make up for never being able to get my teaching license, never traveling, or following through on a decision I made.
“I remembered something,” I tell her and she sits straighter in her chair.
“It was a song that Lauren says is one of her favorites,” I explain. She picks up her pen and writes something on her notepad.
“I played it last night for her, and this morning she said that it was her favorite song. She used to play it all the time before she married Cal,” I tell her. She arches an eyebrow at me.
“You mean before she married you,” she corrects me, and I shrug.
“You’ve had memories before.”
“Yeah but they used to be like flashbacks, and this wasn’t like that. I just sort of knew… I guess.” She nods and writes something on her Ipad.
“Is that a good thing?” I ask her, and she looks up at me with a soft smile.
“Yes, any memory that comes to you is a good thing, that it didn’t come as what you would call a flashback isn’t anything to be
concerned about. If anything I would say that it shows that it was shared.” She says jovially and I look at her confused.
“What do you mean?”
“It means that sometimes you can snatch memories and other times they are given to you by another side of yourself,” she explains.
“You mean Cal or Collin?”
“Yes exactly. How did you feel about what you were doing?” She sits in her chair and waits for me to respond.
“I felt great. I always feel good when I’m playing my guitar, but why would they share a memory with me?”
“It could be for any number of reasons, but sharing thoughts and memories is good. I couldn’t say for sure until I speak to them, but Collin has expressed being open to sharing with you,” she says casually. I feel myself frown. Isn’t he just the greatest?
“Chris, how do you feel about Collin?”
“I don’t know the guy. He is just another hurdle to get over,” I tell her with a shrug.
“Have you started on your letters to them?” she asks, and I realize I have completely forgotten about the letters.
“I’ve had a lot going on with getting settled into work, and my mom is here and spending time with Caylen and Lauren.”
“Thirty minutes out of your day shouldn’t be much,” she tells me. I rest my weight on my elbows. I don’t want to write a letter to them—it seems stupid and ridiculous but what do I know? I’m more lost in this than anyone else.
“I’ll start tonight,” I promise her and she looks pleased.
“Have you heard them?” she asks and I look at her confused. “Have you heard either of them try and speak to you?” It’s not too often that a person refers to you hearing voices as normal.
“I don’t think so.”
“Why don’t you think so?” She’s starting to ask too many questions and I feel myself getting impatient and antsy in my seat, so I stretch my legs out in front of me making the space suddenly seem smaller.
“I used to hear Cal’s.” I tell her and her expression remains blank. “His was more like taunting though. Never anything constructive.” She writes on her Ipad, but keeps her eyes on me. “After I came back, I heard thoughts that didn’t seem like they were mine, but I am pretty sure they weren’t Cal’s either.”
“Have you ever tried to speak back to them?” I can’t help but snicker, but her face is completely serious
“No.” I tell her as if it’s obvious. For one, I didn’t even know that was possible and two, I really am not interested in getting to know either of those jerks. She stands from her seat and walks over to sit in the chair beside me.
“Are you afraid of them?” she asks and I feel anger rise up in my chest.
“No, I’m not afraid of them,” I scoff at her.
“Then why wouldn’t you want to talk to them?” she asks, and I look at her again as if it’s obvious.
“Because they want my life, they’ve tried to shut me out of my life. I’m angry not, I'm afraid!” I shout at her.
“Do you think you’ll ever stop being angry?”
I frown at her question and get up from my seat. I feel energy swirling around inside of me that I have to let out.
“If they stop trying to screw up my life,” I say through a nervous laugh.
“And what would you want them to do in order to not ‘screw up your life,’” she says in air quotes.
“Go away and never come back.” I smile widely at this and she frowns.
“You’ve done peer mentoring before haven’t you, Christopher?” she asks and I nod.
“If you had two students you worked with who didn’t get along, what would you have them do?”
I roll my eyes knowing where this is going. “This isn’t the same thing!” I let out a strained breath and sit down. “Fine. I’d have them talk about what the problem is, and try to find common ground, let them know that they don’t have to like each other but respect is essential,” I tell her begrudgingly.
“That sounds like amazing advice.” She tells me with a triumphant grin. I sit down feeling defeated, and think back to all the kids I used to mentor and how they sometimes would look at me as if I didn’t understand what it was like to be young and misunderstood. They thought my life was perfect and that I couldn’t possibly understand or give them advice. Now I’ve traded places with them.
“We talked about control the last time you were here. Control is power. Knowledge is control. Communication gives you the keys to access those things.” She explains as if it’s the simplest answer in the world. I unzip my khaki jacket and set it beside me—it’s starting to get hot in here. The prospect of being able to talk to them freaks me out. I never thought it would be possible, but in some way I guess it would be like talking to myself.
“You talked about co-consciousness before.” She studies me for a second and then nods.
“Chris and Collin already are, right?” I ask and she gives me a tight smile. “Or you can’t answer that?”
“What I can tell you is that your alternate states of mind have been in communication for awhile,” she says with a sympathetic grin. Great, it’d make sense why I’m the one left out of the loop.
I shift in my seat. “So if I was considering doing this, how would it work? Would I stand in a mirror or something?” I laugh, but she maintains its seriousness.
“Not quite.” She gives me an empathetic smile.
I feel so confused. “You can meet with them,” she adds, and I think she’s pulling my leg at this point.
“I’m serious Chris. We’ve already discussed how phenomenal the power of the human mind is—your mind specifically.” She looks at me almost in awe. It only makes me uncomfortable. “You can imagine a place in your mind where you could meet them.”
“Where we all just sit down and sing “Kumbaya”,” I snicker and her smile hardens.
“Christopher, I am not here to waste your time, please don’t waste mine. Nothing I present to you is meant to be a joke or play on your intelligence.” Her voice is cool and unwavering, and it makes me feel almost guilty, but I quickly think of all the things she’s kept from me and I realize I’m right to have my doubts—even though holding onto them right now won’t help me at all.
“Okay… how would I do that?” I remove the condescension from my tone, and she smiles widely.
“First, you work on the letters, and then we’ll begin.”
Lauren
My thoughts from this morning replay like a TV show I’ve watched a million times as I sit on the couch watching Caylen and Mrs. Scott play with one of the gadgets Chris bought her yesterday. Chris remembered the song and it was something so small—really insignificant to anyone else—but to me it meant a lot. The look on his face after he realized it hit me harder because he looked almost scared. I regretted telling him that I didn’t have to go to every session with him because I know he’ll talk to Helen about it, and I wonder what her response will be—if she’ll help him uncover why he looked so nervous instead of triumphant. Maybe that’s how he’s always been. He didn’t tell me about his memories right away after he started remembering them. I know it has to be scary when your mind starts putting pieces of a puzzle together you’re not sure if you even want to solve, but that scares me. If he’s afraid of integration—of being whole—where does that leave us? The feeling hits me even more as I watch Caylen. She’s so happy now, blissfully unaware of the issues her father and mother face, but it won’t be like that forever. Caylen can’t have three dads—how would she begin to understand?
“Are you okay, Lauren?” Mrs. Scott looks at me with a warm but worried smile. I snap myself out of my thoughts.
“Yeah, just trying to get this picture to come together.” I’ve been sketching her and Caylen but am nowhere near done.
“Are you hungry? Want me to make you something to eat?" she asks brightly and I smile.
“I’m stuffed from breakfast and the submarine sandwich you made me for lunch. If I eat one more bite of
anything before dinner, Chris is going to get me confused with a blimp,” I tease her.
“Your kitchen is so beautiful I could bake in there for hours,” she says before squealing at the doll Caylen has pushed in her face. “But Chris is the one who made you breakfast, it wasn’t me,” she throws me a half-smile.
I think back to when Chris stepped in to teach me how to cook, and how much more things were complicated then. Thankfully they’re simpler now—or at least they’re supposed to be—or maybe in Chris’s eyes we swapped Jenna out for Collin.
“I’m so sorry, Lauren.” Mrs. Scott’s voice is low and sullen, her eyes full of sorrow.
“For what?” I ask her a little confused.
She runs her hand through Caylen’s black curls. “I should have said something to you sooner. The day I came here when I found out you and Cal were engaged. I was so selfish to think of all the time he missed with her, the time that William and I missed with her.”
I get off the couch and sit beside her. “Mrs. Scott, that’s in the past. We just have to believe that it all worked out for the greater good. I don’t know what would have happened if you had told me about him, and Cal is so stubborn he may have made good on his promise to disappear. We may not have had Caylen. You are the best mother-in-law I could have ever imagined. Caylen loves you, and you’re wonderful to us.” I mean every word. She hugs me, and I think back to the day in the kitchen when I imagined having a relationship like this with her.