by Portia Moore
I can’t help but wonder what they’re talking about. Me? My presence here? The fact that I showed up early? Megan’s hesitation to sleep with me last night? I’ve never been the focus of someone’s therapy before—and I know that even now I’m not the focus, exactly. But I’m a part of it. It gives me an uneasy feeling in my stomach. This is all unknown territory, unfamiliar, and I don’t exactly know how to deal with it. I want to be there for Megan, but I’m realizing that I don’t really know how—not when it comes to this.
Helen is the one who comes out to get me. “Come in,” she says gently, smiling reassuringly at me as she gestures for me to come into her office. Megan is sitting on her couch, looking nervous and shaky, and I immediately take her hand.
“So, Kameron,” Helen says calmly, “Megan brought you here so that I can help explain what’s going on with her. It’s unusual, and it’s difficult for her. She needs patience and care through all of this, and since you are an important person in her life, it’s imperative that you understand how to best support her, and what she needs.”
“Of course,” I say, nodding. “I just want to understand, so that I can do exactly that.”
“Megan has something called dissociative identity disorder,” Helen begins to explain. “Trauma that she underwent in her childhood caused her mind to create an ‘alter,’ a personality that could help protect her and compartmentalize the things that were happening. Over time, this alter strengthens and becomes very much like a separate person, with its own desires, feelings, thoughts, and actions. A person’s alters can be of any age, gender, sexuality, etc., but Megan has created one fairly similar to herself in those respects—a young woman of similar age. Her name is Alana.”
It’s all I can do not to stiffen as I hear the name. The thing I feared was true—Alana and Megan are the same person. George wasn’t lying—Megan really was working at that club. She’s committed crimes. That sneering, cocky girl in the picture is the same person as the sweet, nervous girl sitting next to me.
I can’t imagine loving Alana, wanting her, wanting anything to do with her. But somehow, Megan is her. It’s mind-boggling. She lied to me, I think, but I just keep listening, nodding as Helen speaks, not letting go of Megan’s hand.
“When Alana makes herself present, Megan blacks out. She remembers nothing of what Alana does or who she is or what her life is like. Megan is completely unaware during this personality shift, and when she comes back to herself, it’s because either her consciousness has managed to take over again, or Alana has decided to retreat. Often it’s very confusing for Megan, because she may wake up somewhere she doesn’t recognize, in a place she doesn’t know, having done things or with someone that she doesn’t remember or know. It’s very hard and frustrating for her, because Alana is a very different person, one Megan has no control over. It’s very important that you understand that, Kameron. Alana and Megan may share a body, but they don’t communicate with one another, at least not now. What Alana does is very separate from Megan, and she remembers none of it.”
I feel some of the tension leave me, replaced by a sudden, deep sadness for Megan—and guilt for having not believed her. So she didn’t lie to me. She just doesn’t remember. It’s like she’s…possessed, or something. A split personality. Another person inside Megan’s body, making her do things she doesn’t remember or want to do, forcing her into situations she didn’t choose. Controlling her life for her.
I realize abruptly that what I feel for Alana is something very close to hate. I want her gone, out of Megan. I want my girlfriend back, not tormented by some other person who takes over. I frown at Helen. “So she has another personality, basically, one that she doesn’t remember anything about?”
“She’s starting to have some recollections, but they’re very few.” Helen pauses. “It’s important that you don’t ask Megan to share memories or feelings about her alter unless she wants to and is ready for it. It has to be in her own time, and it’s important for you to manage your reactions to any revelations or behaviors she might tell you about or display. Stress, fear, sadness, all of these negative emotions are triggers for switching, and sometimes the switch can be very detrimental to the mental or physical health of the host.” Helen pauses for a moment, giving me time to take it in. “Being the partner of someone with this condition is difficult, because it requires a great deal of patience and emotional regulation on your part. I wouldn’t say it’s walking on eggshells exactly, but some people can feel that way. You have to be cognizant of how your reactions will affect your partner’s mental state to a much higher degree than most people do.”
“And therapy will help?” I think of what my parents’ reaction to this will be. But we can help her. Helen can’t be cheap but I have the money to make sure that she gets as much therapy as she needs, for as long as she needs it. Forever, if that’s what it takes to keep Alana away, or get rid of her entirely.
“It will help, yes,” Helen says cautiously. “But it’s important that you don’t look at this as waiting for Megan to ‘get better.’ She isn’t going to. This is a condition she will have for the rest of her life, and the quality of her life largely depends on how well she learns to integrate Alana into her life and cope with the feelings of sharing her body with another personality. You will need to be able to cope with and love all the parts of her personality, not just the one you originally fell for, and be ready for changes and switches. Everyone has to grow with their partner over time, but you will experience this to a greater degree. I would recommend regular counseling for you as well. Do you live here in Chicago? I usually don’t see the partners of my patients with this condition, but I have a colleague who specializes in it as well.”
Cope with Alana? Love Alana? That seems impossible. The idea of Megan sharing her body with this…this other woman, makes me cringe, although I don’t let Megan see it. I don’t want Alana, I want Megan. I don’t want her to change. I want things to go back to the way they were.
But I love her. That hasn’t changed. The fact that I want to share my life with her hasn’t changed…whatever that means. And that realization, more than anything else, tells me exactly where our relationship is going. I want her for better or worse, in sickness and in health. Not years from now—now.
“Not yet,” I say carefully. “I live in Indiana. But, depending on what Megan wants…” I glance over at her, and see her staring at me, wide-eyed. “I might come here. If Megan wants to be here, close to her family.”
I hear her gasp softly. “Kam, your family is in Indiana,” she whispers, gripping my hand.
“You’re the most important thing to me,” I tell her firmly. I mean it. I don’t care how hard this is going to be.
“It’s a kind gesture,” Helen interrupts. “But we need to remember to take this slow. Big changes are triggers, and you need to repeat that to yourself like it’s a mantra. Grand romantic gestures aren’t always going to be the best thing for Megan. If you do move here for her, you need to be sure, and make sure that it’s a choice you make together.”
“Of course, I understand,” I tell her. Of course, we’ll talk it over. But I know what I want. And Helen warning me away isn’t going to change my mind.
“Good.” Helen looks at Megan. “Is there anything else you want to talk about, Megan?”
Her tone is pointed, and I wonder what they’ve talked about, what else there is that I don’t know. But I remember what Helen said, that this all has to come in time. That I have to give Megan space, and make her feel safe.
Megan shakes her head. “No, I think we’ve covered everything. I just think I need some rest. Today has been a lot.”
“Of course.” Helen stands up as we do and shakes my hand. “Thank you for coming today, Kam.” She hands me a business card, smiling at me warmly. “I’m a phone call away if you have any additional questions.”
The drive home is quiet. When we’re back in the apartment, Megan gives me a quick kiss before digging her phone out of
her purse. “I need to call Blue back,” she says, stepping out onto the balcony.
I sit down on the couch as I wait, wondering what they’re talking about. Blue’s cousin and his divorce? Megan and Blue have gotten considerably closer since she blacked out and ran away. I feel a hint of jealousy, especially now that Blue and Katie aren’t together anymore, but I push it away. They’re friends, nothing more. And I should be glad that there’s someone I trust, and Megan trusts, that she can lean on when I can’t be there.
I need to focus on our future, and what Megan needs from me. It’s the only way we’ll make it through this.
---
The day before I go back to Indiana, Megan tells me that her brother and his wife want her to bring me over for dinner. I can tell she’s nervous about it, and I just smile easily at her. “Of course, babe,” I tell her, giving her a quick kiss. “I want to meet your family. After all, you’ve already met mine.”
When she comes out of the bathroom after getting ready, I feel my heart turn over at how beautiful she is. She’s wearing a black wrap dress and heels, her small waist emphasized by the shape of the dress, and I want to pull her into my lap and have her right on the couch. But I know she won’t want to be late.
“You look beautiful,” I tell her, crossing the room and gently setting my hands on her waist, pulling her to me for a kiss. She melts into me for a moment, tilting her chin up to kiss me as I hold her tightly, momentarily fighting the urge to ask her to go right back into the bedroom with me.
We haven’t had as much sex as I might have wanted in the last few days, especially considering how long we were apart, but I don’t want to push her, or make her feel pressured. And after talking to Helen, I don’t want to do anything that might make Alana reappear. I know there very well may come a day when I wake up to see Megan’s face, but a different woman in my bed. And I’m not exactly sure how to prepare for that. I know I’m not ready for it right now—and I don’t want to mar what little time we have together before I have to go back to school.
So I’ve held her every night as we went to sleep, told her that we’d make it through all of this, and been as understanding as I possibly can be. It’s not hard, because I love her and you do what you have to for the person you love. But I want things to be normal between us again. I want the happy life that we had. I know we can get back to it. It’s just going to take time.
Megan’s brother, Cal, and his wife Lauren live in the Chicago suburbs. Lauren is the picture of sweetness as Megan introduces us, and I air-kiss her on the cheek, congratulating her on her advanced pregnancy. I hand Cal the bottle of wine we brought, meeting his piercing, suspicious gaze, and shake his hand.
“It’s nice to meet you, Kameron,” Cal says, his voice warmer than I expected, considering the way he’s looking at me. “Megan’s told us a lot about you.”
“All good, I hope.” I smile at him, hoping I look more confident than I feel. Lauren has pulled Megan away into the kitchen to chat, and Cal gestures for me to follow him into the dining room.
“Megan said that she was taking you to a therapy appointment with her.”
I nod, feeling a lecture coming on. But to my surprise, Cal is sympathetic.
“In my marriage, I’m in Megan’s position, and Lauren is in yours,” Cal says, pouring us each a glass of wine. “It’s easier to be on my side—Megan’s side—sometimes, and sometimes I think it’s harder. It’s harder for the part of us that loves our partner. Our alters don’t give a fuck. I don’t ever want to hurt Lauren, and I’ve done my fair share of that. I can tell from the look on your face that Megan has done things to hurt you, and while I want to tell you it won’t ever happen again, I’m not going to lie to you. It probably will—hell, it certainly will. She’s fighting a battle that’s impossible to totally win. And Lauren is a saint for staying with me.” He pauses. “Megan is my sister, my blood. My family. So I’m going to tell you this—if you don’t think you’re a candidate for that same kind of sainthood, if you don’t think you can handle all of it, everything that comes with this kind of life, then you need to leave Megan alone, before this gets any harder for the both of you. Because this isn’t going to be easy, ever.”
“I appreciate you telling me all of this,” I say, and I mean it. “But I love Megan. I know you’re protective of her—I have a sister myself. But I don’t plan to leave her. I loved her before I knew about all this, and nothing I’ve heard has changed that. Your wife made it through it all, and you seem happy. I plan to do the same for Megan.”
Cal just nods, but there’s an uneasy look on his face that stays there, all through dinner. And despite Lauren’s best efforts to cheer us and the deliciousness of the food, I see that same uneasiness reflected in Megan’s face. “And you can call me Chris.”
18
Kam
By the time I leave Megan to go back to Indiana, promising to be back in three weeks when spring break starts, I’ve never been more sure of the path ahead for us. As I settle into my truck, I think back to last night, and us in bed, Megan’s body underneath mine.
I miss her already. She’d made love to me as if she was trying to make up for all the nights we’d missed, and almost as if she were afraid I might not come back.
But I am coming back. I have a plan in mind already, and it started with texting my parents to meet me for dinner tonight once I get off of the plane.
They meet me at a favorite Italian restaurant of ours, not far from my apartment. Katie is working, but she’s agreed to meet me tomorrow and help me with an errand. I haven’t told her what errand yet, but I hope she’s as excited about it as I am.
“What’s going on, Son?” my father asks as we settle in. “How was Chicago?” His tone is cautious. Neither he nor my mother were sure about me going to see Megan—him especially. But the fact that they’re willing to hear me out means a lot.
“It was good,” I tell them confidently as we order. I get lasagna, my favorite, and it makes me think of dinner last night at Lauren and Cal’s. Lauren didn’t warm up to me as much as I had thought she would, and it surprised me that Cal—no, Chris—and I seemed to get on better than I did with his wife. I thought for sure that he would be cold and standoffish. And to be fair, he did warn me away, if I didn’t think I could handle it.
But I know that I can. Maybe I’m being delusional, since I’ve never seen Megan switch or had to really deal with her disorder yet. But I have faith that we’ll make it. That we’re meant to be together, no matter what.
“I know what’s going on with Megan,” I tell them as we eat. “You were right, Dad, Megan and Alana are the same person. But it’s not what you thought.” I give him a moment to absorb it, waiting for him to say something, but he just patiently waits for me to continue.
“She has a personality disorder,” I tell them calmly. “It’s called dissociative identity disorder. Alana is her ‘alter,’ the doctor said, created because of some kind of trauma when she was younger. When Alana appears, Megan doesn’t know about it. She blacks out. That’s what happened at the charity gala, when she disappeared—why she didn’t remember any of it. So anything that Alana does, it’s not Megan. It’s like…they’re two totally different people existing in the same body.”
I can see skepticism on both of their faces. “I’ve heard of this,” my father says slowly. “There’s some debate as to whether it’s real.”
“Her doctor is very well respected,” I say firmly. “And this is her diagnosis.”
“Give me her doctor’s name,” my dad says. I sigh in exasperation but nod that I will.
“That must be really hard,” my mother says sympathetically. “To have someone else controlling you and not even remember chunks of your own life?” She shivers. “This is going to be hard for you both, Kam.”
“There’s a lot of bad things in Alana’s file,” my father says. “Even if this is true, and Megan doesn’t remember or mean to do any of that…”
“I believe her,” I
say confidently. “And I plan to stay with her. I’m going to support her through this, and we’re going to make this work. Alana or no Alana.”
“We love you, Son,” my mother says gently. “And if this is want you want, we’ll support you.”
“Just be careful,” my father adds. “But your mother is right. We’ll be there for you as much as we are able.”
I can see the worry on his face still. But the conversation turns to school and other things, and we don’t bring Megan up again. I’m glad, because I don’t want them to try to talk me out of it. I’m firm in my decision. Now I just have to convince Katie.
Her face when we go to the jewelry store the next day tells me all I need to know. “A ring?” she asks, narrowing her eyes at me. “Are you sure, Kam? With everything that’s happened…are you sure you want to take that step with Megan? This is really serious, and this disorder…”
I had explained it to her over lunch, and she took it with the same equal amounts of skepticism and sympathy that my parents had. I know Katie likes Megan, and that she likes us together. I know, too, that her concern is just the kind of concern I have for her, or that Chris has for Megan. But I want her to be supportive of this.
“I’m sure,” I tell her firmly as we get out of the car. “I love Megan, and I plan to stick with her through this. I want her to know how serious I am.”
“Have you heard from Blue?” Katie asks hesitantly. “Has he said anything to you about me…about us? Have you seen him…with Megan?”
“I didn’t see him,” I tell her honestly. “But I want to stay out of that, Katie. I know you’re upset, and he’s not calling you back, but it’s between the two of you. I have a lot going on right now.”
“I know,” she says reluctantly. She purses her lips as she looks at the store. “Just promise me you won’t give her the ring right away, Kam. She’s going through a lot—it might not be the time to ask her to make that big of a decision. And you should see more of what it’s like living with this before you ask, too.”