by Portia Moore
“If you feel your eyes getting heavy, let them relax.” A few moments after she says this, they feel like bricks are on top of them.
“I’d like you to imagine a place—”
“What type of place?” I ask, but my voice comes out in a whisper.
“Where you’d like to meet.”
My eyes are closed now.
“I don’t know how,” I tell her honestly.
“Think of a place you’re familiar with. A place you know so well that you could mimic its design from the ground up.”
In less than a second, I’m in my house. My parent’s house. I’m in the living room. It’s so weird, almost eerie. Everything in its place as if I’m actually there. But I am there, and no longer in Helen’s office but standing right in front of my dad’s big arm chair.
“Do you see it? Are you there?” Helen’s voice sounds like it’s playing on a TV or a radio in another room.
“Yes.” I say, but there’s no one in the room but me.
“Good. Call him,” she instructs. “Just say his name.”
I look around my surroundings, and I’m at home—the one I grew up in. I’m no longer in Helen’s office in Chicago but in Madison, Michigan. I swear I even can smell fried pork chops. How is this possible? My stomach feels like jelly, not because this seems impossible or stupid anymore, but because it feels real, right down to the picture of Caylen sitting on top of my mom and dad’s fireplace. I swallow hard.
“Cal,” it comes out quiet, a little over a murmur and then I clear my throat.
“Are you here?”
“Look who it is.”
My stomach drops when I turn around and see me, standing in front of me. A version of myself. My hair longer, and I’m in dark denim jeans and a black T-shirt. A silver watch on my wrist gleams as the sun from the window pours in. Leaning in the doorway, his arms are folded across his chest and he’s wearing a condescending smirk.
“Chrissy boy. How are you?” he asks and I feel my face go hard. He puts both of his hands up in some sort of mock apology.
“Just kidding. You’ve got to take the stick out of your ass.” He walks past me and collapses into my dad’s chair, resting his feet on the coffee table.
“You’re quiet. I thought you’d be more talkative.”
“What is this place?” I ask still trying to get over the fact that I’m looking at myself in the flesh. He lets out a half-laugh and tilts his head at me.
“That’s the first question you ask me? Out of everything?” His face twists up in disbelief and amusement. I cross my arms and he shrugs.
“Our twisted up mind obviously,” he answers simply. He gestures to the seat across from him. “Why don’t you have a seat?” he says with a mischievous grin. I frown at him and sit across from him. “It took you long enough to get here.”
“Why did you pretend to be me?” I ask him as this is the immediate question that pops in my head. One of his brows shoots to the sky.
“I didn’t pretend to be you,” he chuckles low.
“Oh, so you tricked her?”
“We both know I don’t have to trick Lauren to do anything,” he says his tone low and his face hard even though it’s accompanied with a smile. “Look let’s not get into conversations that we’ll never agree on.” His expression goes serious. “I’m offering you a truce,” he says bluntly.
“Which means integration?” I ask him hesitantly. He shrugs one shoulder leaning back in his seat.
“Or co-consciousness. Has Helen told you all about that?”
“Where we share?” I ask him, and he laughs.
“Something like that.”
“You’d be willing to share?” I ask him skeptically. He throws his hands up and laughs.
“Why does everyone think I’m the problem child?” he asks, feigning innocence.
“Lauren said Collin wants us to integrate, so if he did say that, I’d assume that you are the problem.” His face immediately turns to stone.
“Collin is a manipulative, egotistical little prick,” he says, irritation cutting through his words. It’s my turn to laugh.
“Oh I see, so you’re switching teams?” I ask and his eyes narrow in on mine. “From my understanding, you and Collin have had some sort of agreement to keep me in the dark and that’s not working for some reason… so I’m guessing you need me now?”
“I don’t need either of you,” he says his jaw flexing.
“You must or I wouldn’t be here. I’m not that daft, Cal.”
“Collin could take over,” he says evenly, and I feel my blood go cold.
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said. He’s been in practice a lot longer. He knows more than we do and he’ll be in a perfect position if we don’t work together,” he says casually but there’s an edge to his tone. I give him a disbelieving look.
“You two are the alters. If we integrate, I’ll be the one left,” I tell him, but my voice gives away my unsureness and he shoots his body forward with a wide, sarcastic smirk on his face.
“Really? And why do you think that, Chris?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why do you think you’re the host? Because your parents told you?” he asks with a laugh. “After all we know how forthcoming and honest they’ve been.”
I sit quietly and swallow my nerves allowing him to say everything he needs to say.
“Has Helen ever told you that you’re the host?” he asks cocking his head to the side. “Let me ask you something. If I blocked out the memory of what supposedly caused our dysfunctional little trio… wouldn’t that make me the host?” I feel my heart starting to pace unevenly in my chest at all of his questions. “Or to be completely unbiased—if Collin remembers the most out of the three of us—wouldn’t he be? If we’re adding up reasons as to who was the first, the original will be the last one standing, my bets wouldn’t be on you Chrissy boy.” An amused dare is in his tone.
“You aren’t taking bets on yourself obviously or I wouldn’t be here,” I counter.
“Maybe I’m just tired of fighting. Have you ever thought of that? Ever thought that I might like to get to spend time with my wife and daughter without being on a time clock?” he asks again. “Wouldn’t you?” he asks this time with no sarcasm in his voice. My eyes trail to the photo of Caylen.
“One thing I’ll say—I know we love them.” For the first time, his voice sounds completely genuine.
“Collin doesn’t love. He borrows emotion from me, mimics parts of both of us, and that’s as human as he gets. If he somehow managed or decided that he doesn’t need us, that’s it. We’re gone. Not only that but the girls we love will be living with a psychopath—unfeeling, calculating, and only worried about his self-preservation regardless of the consequences.” His tone is ominous and I feel my nerves spike.
“Lauren said he wasn’t that bad,” I tell him and he laughs.
“Are you listening to me, Chris? I just….” He lets out a long frustrated breath. “Keep it up, farm boy. He’s the great pretender. You remember we saw that movie where the guy kills the rich dude and takes over his life and keeps knocking other people off to keep up the façade?”
“You’re saying he’s a serial killer?” I ask sarcastically.
“Hey, I’m not going that far but without us, who knows?” I’m starting to think Cal is paranoid, and this seems to be going nowhere.
“Then what are you saying? Because as far as I know, Collin didn’t interrupt my life just to screw with me. You did!” I ask him angrily and his expression turns venomous.
“There you go again. Thinking that I interrupted your life, that you’re the golden child and I’m the ugly step kid. Every good thing that you have now is because of me. Lauren, Caylen, and the money you so sanctimoniously wanted to hand over to your half-brained friend. If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be living paycheck to paycheck married to that frigid bitch Jenna!”
It’s so strange. The anger in
the room, my defiant face staring at me. His expression is hard, and he looks like how I feel. A few moments pass between our stare off. He’s me, or I’m him. This proves it even more how out of touch I am with myself. Being here is bizarre but it is another nail in the coffin to how real this is.
“You can think whatever you want about me but I love Lauren and Caylen. I’d never do anything to hurt them. We’d all go before they would.” The promise in his tone should scare me but it doesn’t. “If for some reason I knew that we were a danger to them, I’d end it all without a second thought.”
I clear my throat. “So if what you’re saying is true… wouldn’t Collin be aware of all of this?”
“Don’t let the pretty face fool ya. I’m smarter than I look,” he laughs and I hold mine back. “It’d be easier if you were on board.”
“And what do I get out of this?” He looks both amused and shocked by my question. “I’m already used to being left out—being ping-ponged between the two of you. How do you help me?”
“Look at you, graduating from checkers to chess!” He has a proud, twisted grin on his face. “Okay, we can start off with me sharing my memories with you—if you can handle them.”
“I don’t want to be caught off guard anymore. I want to know if a transition is going to happen,” I tell him. He nods.
“Just so you know the clinical terms you don’t have to use with me,” he winks.
“Deal or not,” I reiterate. He stands up.
“Deal.” He says, and I almost feel this is too easy.
“How would we—I don’t know the schedule for this…” I search for the words to ask.
“What do you think is fair?”
“I don’t know…” I didn’t really consider this.
“Every other month?”
“That seems like a long time,” I say scratching my head.
“Every week…” he sounds slightly annoyed. That seems too frequent.
“Every two weeks. And if there’s an event one of us has, we agree to let the corresponding person attend without interference.”
“That sounds fair,” he says. “But one thing—this stays between us. We don’t tell anyone—not Helen, your parents, and especially not Lauren.”
“Why not?”
“There are some things that are not quite sitting right with me that I have to find out answers to. I’m not entirely sure what role Helen plays in all of this,” he says, and I’m surprised by this because you’d think they were best friends the way Lauren describes it.
“And these things are?”
He glares at me then shrugs casually. “When I find out you will.”
“Fine…But my parents are pretty obvious, but why can’t we tell Lauren?” I ask.
“Because she should think we’re integrated. It’s what’s been hammered into her about us being ‘cured’ I don’t want her worrying about us.”
“You may be able to lie to her…”
“It’s not lying!” he says defensively. “I don’t lie to Lauren,” his voice drops dangerously low, and I wonder what he thinks this is.
“Us working together is a form of integration,” he reasons. I try to think how Lauren would react if I told her that Cal and I were decided to switch out…. co-exist would be a better word. I think she’d understand.
“Don’t puss out on me, Chris. We can discuss telling her at a later date. Let’s gauge her reaction first,” he relents. That I can go for. “And we allow access to each other’s memories and thoughts.”
“Don’t you already have access to mine?”
“Things have been a little different since I kicked Collin out of the club.” He shrugs. So he does need me.
I never imagined a day when we would sit down… or I would sit down with myself and talk. Cal explains how I can summon him if I need him. It sounds ridiculous, but this whole thing is. I let him know what he’s missed out on in the missing weeks he’s had. Still, something just doesn’t sit right with me.
“Why should I trust you?” I ask and he smiles.
“You don’t trust yourself? Look I’m you, and you’re me, and we have to act in our own best interest.”
“You thought killing someone was in our best interest?” I remind him.
“Okay, I was probably a little hasty about that… but I wouldn’t have gotten caught,” he says.
“Okay. So… how do we do this?”
“We shake on it.”
“That’s it?” I ask, and his eyebrows rise. “Okay.” And we shake on it.
“What you thought there’d be a rainbow or something?” He’s such a smug…
“Christopher?” Helen asks when I open my eyes. Her gaze is speculative.
“Yeah?”
“How did it go?” she asks.
“It was okay I guess,” I say nonchalantly.
“Were you able to speak to him?”
“Yeah, he said he’s willing to integrate for Lauren,” I clear my throat. I’ve lied more this year than my whole life, and I still don’t feel like I’m getting any better at it.
“Really?” she sounds surprised, and that makes my stomach twitch.
“Uh…why wouldn’t you think he’d want to integrate?”
“The same reason you never wanted to, Chris. But I always guessed if anyone would bring you together, it would be Lauren. Let’s go back to my office, and we’ll wrap up.”
Collin
Something is wrong. My temples are throbbing, and I know I’ve missed time. I’ve missed events before but this does not happen. Not with me. I stare at Helen who just asked something about Lauren, and then look at the screen and see my face. But it’s not me… I’m not sure who it is. How did I get here?
“What is that on the screen?” I ask, and her eyes narrow in on mine.
“C-Collin?” she asks with a bit of hesitancy. “You, don’t know?” I feel myself losing the little patience I have.
“Play it,” I tell her. She picks up the remote on her desk and plays the video. It’s Cal of course, and whatever is going on has his fingerprints all over it. As I watch I feel something I never have before. My chest is tight, and I’m on the verge of a headache.
“When did he do this?” I ask, my voice low and shaky.
“You don’t remember, you haven’t been aware?” I swear Helen is a genius. I rub my hand across my head. I remember when Chris cut all of our hair off, but now it’s longer and I can wrap it around my thumb. It’s been more than a few days—maybe even a few weeks.
“Are you okay? You don’t look like yourself?”
I press my knuckles together. “Calvin is out of control. He’s up to something, and I need to know what they’ve talked about.”
Helen displays a smile to comfort the pathetic, but it only arouses my suspicions.
“You know how it works, Collin. I only share what I’m given permission to.”
I clutch my knuckles that look paler than I recall them. “The last thing I remember…” I try to think…“Christopher was here with Lauren….” I gulp down my budding nerves because there is definitely something to be very nervous about.
“You still have not communicated with Cal?” she asks, attempting to conceal her surprise.
“He is a lot more childish and stubborn than I initially thought,” I admit. “And I want to know how he’s been able to block me out.”
“Cal shouldn’t be able to do that Collin. You’re co-conscious,” she begins to explain and I slam my fist against the table in front of me.
“I know what he should not be able to do but he is doing it. I have no idea what has been happening or what day it is.” I growl.
“Collin, this isn’t like you.”
“That’s what I mean! Something is very off.” I try to remain calm but stress the importance that she helps set this right. I don’t know what’s going on with these two. Cal thinks he’s so smart, but I’ve been at it a lot longer than he has.
“Would you allow me to speak with him?”
she asks, and I laugh.
“I’m not letting him out,” I scoff. Her lips press together in a tight line.
“Then this is where the problem lies, Collin. You are supposed to be the neutral party, the level-headed presence, unbiased…” she trails off. “Would you like to talk to me about what has changed?”
I suck in a breath trying to maintain my composure. Life happened. Calvin went on the fritz, and then Chris wouldn’t function right and I had to man the ship longer than I imagined doing. Lauren happened. She cared for me, loved me, and desired me, and I realized I could make things better than either of them. They made things worse, and Calvin’s selfish antics only highlights the fact that I would be the best father to Caylen and husband to Lauren. They are incapable and ruin all they touch.
“I want to start Naltrexonel…”
Her eyebrows rise. “Last I checked I’m the doctor, Collin.”
“Okay, let me put it this way. You write my prescription, or I decide to let Calvin walk through the door…” I tell her, meeting her eyes. “The door to the room, Helen. The one your employer wouldn’t want him to go through… the person who writes your checks, who this entire empire stands on.” I watch her gulp.
“What are you referring to, Collin?” She studies me as I search her expression and wonder does she know… maybe she doesn’t. After all, she’s just a limb, not the brain.
I stand from my seat. “Never mind. I’ll have your boss make the call,” I tell her, throwing her a dismissive glance.
“Collin, don’t you think we need to talk about this?” She stands and walks toward me.
“I think we’ve talked enough,” I tell her before closing the door to her office. I pull out my phone and see that I have a text from Lauren asking me to meet her at the gallery. She's just the person I want to hear from.
“I’m up here,” Lauren calls out as the security system announces that I’ve entered. I look around and take in my surroundings. After finding out the date, I’ve realized I’ve been shut out for weeks. The gallery, already in pristine condition when I bought it, has come a long way. Paintings are hung, lighting fixed, floors buffed. There are boxes and equipment for the opening everywhere. I head up the stairs and am reminded of what a vision she is when I see her. Her hair is piled in a knot on the top of her head. Her eyes are bright in the way I imagine angels would look.