by Portia Moore
“He doesn’t even know I did this,” I say quietly, feeling the guilt creep up my neck. She twists her long French braid around her finger.
“Well, ask him or them. I can see the work you put into this, and it deserves to be seen,” she urges. “Can you just think about it?”
I grip the back of my neck and glance over at the portrait. The hours it took, the memories and feelings I fought with spilling out onto the canvas.
“Pleeaseee.” She begs, her hands in prayer position. I look at her skeptically.
“Lauren, you deserve this,” she says. The solemnity in her voice catches me off guard.
“I’ll think about it,” I mutter and she squeals in delight.
If only I was as excited about having this conversation with Chris as she seems to be at me having it.
Chapter 30
Chris
I look at the white envelope I found taped to the steering wheel in my car. The message on it simple:
We need to talk
—Cal
Now in Helen’s hand, she is examining it thoroughly as if it was an essay written instead of a simple sentence. A request or a demand—I keep bouncing back and forth between which it is and what it means. Helen finally lifts her head and turns her attention to me setting down the note beside her. She interlaces her fingers and looks almost past me as if she’s contemplating something.
“Okay Christopher, before we begin, I want to show you something.” She picks up the remote and turns on the flat-screen TV on her wall.
“Are we watching another testimonial?” At first, it was interesting watching videos of other people with DID share what their experience has been like. The hardest part was listening to how their family members cope with it. Seeing the sacrifices everyone has to make makes me feel guilty.
“Not today,” she says, and I look up and see myself on the screen.
“Are we on?” The moment I hear the voice I know it’s not me. It’s him. He lets out a deep sigh and leans over his knees.
“It’s me. The guy you think made your life a living hell, right?” He laughs. “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.” I hear Helen’s voice in the background. He rolls his eyes and huffs.
“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. I wanted her to have someone better than me,” he says solemnly.
“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.” He shrugs. “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,” he continues. It’s so strange to watch a recording of myself and not recognize my voice or remember saying the words, but to see it, to watch it myself really hits me and makes it all so real.
“I’ve been trying to fix things for her. Make things right, and give her everything she deserves. 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,” he says with a groan.
He’s such an asshole.
“I mean you are, and I can’t leave my girls with someone who acts like a pussy. I want to give her something she always wanted. I sure as hell can’t do it by myself. But maybe both of us together. We can give her the Prince Charming she deserves,” he says. “Helen and I have been talking, and I’m starting to think maybe this integration thing won’t suck ass completely. So what do you say, Chris? You in or you going to pussy out?” he asks cockily.
I don’t care what he says, I’m not a pussy. The video goes blank and my eyes dart to Helen. She’s quiet, obviously waiting for me to respond.
“When did you take that video?” I ask her, trying to suppress the anger I feel coursing through me. She must be reading me correctly because her eyes dart away from mine, as if the second away suppresses any guilt she has.
“It was one of your first sessions…” I shake my head as realization comes over me and I shake my head in disbelief.
“I remember that day! It was when I felt like I blanked out and lost time and you lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie to you, Chris. I just didn’t inform you of what happened because I wasn’t sure what to make of it and I had to honor his request.”
“Honor his request? What about me, Helen? What about my requests?”
“I understand why you would feel upset, but you’re missing the bigger picture, Christopher. He’s offering you an olive branch,” she explains as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. I cover my face with my hands.
“And what—I’m just supposed to accept with open arms? Now he’s ready to play nice and I just go along with it because that’s what I’m supposed to do? I just go along with the program because it’s not like I have a choice right? What about my choice, Helen?” By the time I finish my sentence, I realize my voice has gotten louder than I wanted it to, but Helen hasn’t even flinched.
“You always have a choice, Chris. You don’t have to make a decision right now. No one can make you do anything…” she continues but then she leans forward in her seat and her eyes narrow on mine, studying me.
“And why now? What’s changed so much all of a sudden that he’s become a team player and not a selfish asshole?” I ask through a laugh.
“I don’t know,” she says evenly, and I can’t help but wonder what use has she been to me. Yeah, she’s taught me more about my condition than I knew previously but anyone could have done that. I still feel like I’m back to square one.
“I don’t think this is working,” I tell her with my mind made up. I stand up from my seat.
“I can help you talk to him.” Our eyes meet and I try to read her eyes.
“Why now?”
“Because he’s obviously susceptible to it. You can ask him all that I don’t have the answers for.”
I look toward the door and back at Helen. I imagine how satisfying it’d be to just walk out and leave her sitting here. It’s what I want to do, but I know it’s not helping anyone—not myself or my family. I glance over at the screen that my face is frozen on. His face… it all blurs together. We’ve talked about co-consciousness in our sessions, communicating with them… it all seemed impossible at the time—surreal even—but the air in here is different now. The way my heart has begun to race and my muscles have tensed makes this all different. In the tape he’s how I imagined him to be—smug and arrogant.
“Can you play it again?” I watch him, his mannerisms, and it hits me hard that this guy is really me. I’m on that TV, but it’s not me. Is this how it is for Lauren? Because I’m confused, and my emotions are all over the place. I ask her to play it again, trying to get used to the fact that it’s me. Hearing his message has an eeriness to it times ten. But there is something that I recognize in both of us—in our eyes and our expressions—everything changes when we talk about Lauren.
“What would I have to do?” I ask her keeping my eyes on the screen. She turns off the video.
“Hypnosis therapy.”
“Ha.” I clasp my hands together and slouch back in my seat. The thought of Helen playing in my mind doesn’t give me any comfort.
“Contrary to what many believe, hypnosis doesn’t allow me to control you or learn all of your secrets. It’s a state of focused concentration. My only role is to be your guide.” I wipe my hand across my face. At this point I can’t think of anything I have to lose.
“Okay,” I nod. A glimmer of a smile shows on her face as she approves of my response.
“I want you to relax, Chris.” We’ve moved
to a different office, and Helen is not behind her desk but in an upholstered chair across from me. The lights are dim, and there’s some type of candle burning.
“I am,” I try and assure her but my heart is beating fast and my body feels stiff.
“I’d like you to take a deep breath for three counts and then push out the air for five.” I do as she says and after about the fifth time, my heart rate starts to slow down.
“Feel your muscles relax, and your thoughts leave your mind, and focus in on my voice,” her voice is calm and low and a different tone from what it usually is.
“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.<
br />
“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.