Before

I

Break

Portia Moore

Copyright © 2014 by Porsche Moore

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the author

except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Cover Design by Lou Harper

Chapter 1

Chris

March 7th 2013

Silence, dead silence. There’s nothing I hate more in the world. It’s the sound that fills the room when you know the people you’re talking to are searching for something to say. Not just something, the right thing to say. They know if they speak too quickly or the wrong words are spoken, everything will shift. The wrong response could tilt the world—your world—off its axis. I get why my parents are so careful with their words. Words changed our lives, and not for the better. It all started when I told them, “I don’t remember where I was last week.” The last time was when they told me, “Your mother is sick.”

In each instance, dead silence followed.  Time stopped, and everyone tried to think of what was the right thing to say next.  Now I’ve made an announcement that will change our lives forever, for what I hope is the better.  That same silence follows, and they stare at me blankly.  They're shocked. I expected that. My dad finally cracks a smile, but my mom is still stoic. Her expression is unreadable, and that worries me.

“Wow. Engaged?” My dad’s the first to break the silence in the room. His eyes are wide, the excitement in his voice apparent.

“What do you think Mom?” I ask, rubbing the back of my head. I thought she’d be happy. She and Jenna get along great.

“I—I don't really know what to say, Chris.” She won’t even look at me as she lets out a long sigh. She gets up from the dining room table and disappears into the kitchen.

What type of congratulations is that? No smile, no tears of joy, not a single question? In the back of my mind, I knew there was a chance it could be like this, which is why I didn’t bring Jenna. I just told her I’m getting married. That I’ve chosen a woman to spend the rest of my life with, who is going to be the daughter she always wanted, and she walks out as if I just told her to grab me a sandwich. My dad looks behind him and sighs before his smile returns.

“Did you get a good deal on the ring?” he asks, trying to convey enough excitement for the both of them. My dad has always been a deal maker. I would have taken him with me to buy it if I thought he’d be this happy.

“I think so.” I chuckle.

“I took Lisa with me to pick it out.” I smile. I’m sort of proud about it. It’s one of the first big decisions I’ve made in my life without their input or influence. Lisa’s been my best friend since kindergarten, and she knows jewelry like nobody’s business. She knows her stuff but wouldn’t force a decision on me. Even though she and Jenna aren’t the best of friends, Jenna loved the ring Lisa picked out. My dad makes his way over to me and pulls me into a bear hug.

“Well congratulations, son.” He gives me another pat on the shoulder. It’s like I’m in bizarro world. My dad’s excited and accepting, but my mom looks as if I told her I’ve dropped out of college.

“Thanks, Dad,” I reply, still a little in shock. My mom is in the kitchen banging pots around.

“She’ll come around.” He notices my meandering glance towards the kitchen.

“I don't get it. She likes Jenna, right?" I scratch my head. Now I’m confused. I mean, I thought she liked her, but this reaction is causing me to think she’s a good actress.

“Of course son, it’s not that she doesn’t like Jenna. I don't think it has anything to do with her, really." He motions his head toward the living room. I follow him there. We sit down across from each other on separate sofas.

“So what is it? To be honest, I expected you to be the upset one,” I admit with a dry chuckle. My mom runs away from the problem.  If it was him he’d confront it right then and there head on. They really balance each other out.

“I’m happy for you, son. You deserve this. You deserve to be in control of the important decisions in your life,” he says a wide smile on his face. He almost seems more excited than I am.

“She doesn’t think I’m ready, does she?” That has to be it.

“I haven’t had a blackout in two years. I’ve been doing really well,” I say defensively, but the truth is I have to tell myself every morning that I’m ready.

“I know! This is exactly the thing you need to put the past behind you. To move into the future,”he says encouragingly. “Your future,” he adds with a smile. I don’t know who else’s future it would be, but I’ll take it as long as one parent’s on my side.

“Jenna and her parents are still coming over for dinner tonight. I’ve got to talk to Mom. Jenna is going to be really hurt if she thinks mom is against this.” I let out a deep breath and stand up.

“I’m going to grab some champagne for tonight.” My dad grabs his jacket off the coat stand.

“I’m proud of you, son.” And at that, he slips out the door. I shake my head in disbelief and head to the kitchen. My dad, is actually happy about this? Never would have thought it. Once I’m in the kitchen, I see my mom pulling a bowl of potatoes from the sink and setting them on the counter.

“Need some help?” I ask, turning on the faucet and washing my hands. She smiles at me.

“It’s been a while since you helped me in the kitchen,” she says with a laugh and hands me a knife. “I remember when you were a little boy.  After you’d finish working on the old engine your dad let you tinker with, you’d come in here, dirt and oil all over you, and ask to help cook,” she jokes,starting to peel a new batch of potatoes. I laugh at the memory. I love both my parents.There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for either of them. When I found out she had cancer, it was like the wind was knocked out of me. A bad joke.

Before that, my blackouts had been worse than ever. Most of the time, they’d last weeks instead of days, sometimes months. I was losing my mind; the sessions weren't helping. The medication only made me depressed.  Then with all of that, my mom gets diagnosed with stage-three cancer. I thought that was the worst thing that could happen to us, but somehow it was a blessing in disguise. After that my blackouts and headaches were practically nonexistent. I met Jenna who helped me stay sane during a time I thought I would lose my mom, and less than eight months later, my mom was cancer free.

“Mom,” I say quietly.

“Honey, I am happy for you. I am,” she says, her voice perky, but the expression on her face seems forced. I touch her shoulders and turn her towards me. She lets out a small breath and holds both my arms.

“Tell me the truth?” She’s been so strong through everything. There were days when I asked how she was doing, and I knew they were hell for her, but she kept up her smile and never complained. She never let us know how much pain she was in. Her eyes meet mine briefly before they find the floor.

“Please,” I ask again, giving her my best puppy dog eyes and she hugs me.

“I want you to be happy, Christopher. I want nothing more in this world than for you to be happy,” she says and her voice breaks. I feel tears wet my shirt, and she walks a few steps away from me.

“Mom, you’re scaring me now.” I chuckle, but my heart is speeding up... I thought she’d cry because she was happy, not this. My stomach drops when I realize what could be causing this. I put my arm around her and lead her to the kitchen table and sit beside her. She takes a Kleenex and dabs her eyes.

“You’re not. You’re not sick again are you, Mom?” I ask, afraid to hear the answer.

“Oh no, honey! I’m so sorry to make you even think that.”  She shakes her head vehemently. I let out a big sigh of relief as she squeezes my hand.

“I just…things have been going so well, and I know you care a lot about Jenna,” she says, a small smile appearing, but her eyes avoid mine.

“Are you ready? Really ready?” she asks, her eyes finding mine again. Her gaze is so intense I feel like she’s trying to see inside of me.

“I asked myself this over a thousand times already, Mom,”I reveal with a laugh. “Everything you’re thinking about, I’ve probably thought it five times over. The thing is, I don’t think there is ever going to be a time where I know that I’m cured from this—if I’ll ever be,” I say honestly. Her lips tighten, and she nods her head.

“If not now...when? I’m tired of being afraid to live my life because of what may happen,” I tell her.

“I never know when these blackouts will stop. But for now things have been good. Almost two years in a few months since I had the last one. It was hell, but I’ve finally finished school. I have an amazing woman who knows about my condition and doesn't think I'm a weirdo or some sad puppy that needs to be taken care of. And you’re doing better.” I finally see a genuine smile start to appear on her face even though her eyes are still watery.

“I want to get married, maybe get you some grandkids.” I give her a playful nudge. I thought that’d make her laugh, only it doesn’t. Instead she looks anguished, maybe even a little guilty, but that can’t be right.  She won’t even look at me as she gets up from the table and starts to pace the floor.

“Mom, what is it?” I stand up and walk towards her. Something’s wrong. She finally stops and looks at me.

“There’s something we haven—”she stops mid-sentence as my dad comes through the door with a bottle of champagne in hand. His smile is wide as he eyes the chilled bottle. When his gaze finds us his expression turns grim.

“What’s going on?” I look at my mom and then at him.

“You haven’t what, Mom?” I ask her again, glancing at my dad.

“What haven’t we done?” he asks, his tone is low.  My mom glares at him, and that awkward silence has returned, the tension so thick I could almost choke on it.

“What?” I ask more firmly, causing their stare-down to end, and they both turn to look at me. My mom’s eyes dart away from me but my dad’s eyes stare straight into mine.

“Dexter Sr. is here in Madison,” he says abruptly. The grandfather from hell. Whenever he comes here it’s usually bad news for the town. He’s either shutting something down or opening something that will destroy someone’s business. Most of the people here tend to forget our family’s association with the Crestfields, but their presence always serves as a reminder. My mom never liked him but for her to be this upset...

“Is that it, Mom? Is that what’s been bothering you?” I ask, a little relieved. My gut says it’s something else, especially when I notice her lips tighten.

“Gwen, today everyone else’s problems aren’t our concern. This day is about Chris. We’re celebrating the step he’s made to marry the woman he loves. Let’s not ruin this day for our son,” my dad says firmly. There’s something off about this.

“Mom, what is this really about?” I don’t believe Dexter’s visit is causing this type of tension. She looks from me to my Dad, then clears her throat.

“I heard through the grapevine that your grandfather is eying the property Kreuk Place is on,” she says with a sigh. I immediately frown. Kreuk Place is the community center my mom and I have been working at for the past year. It not only helps people in our town but neighboring towns too. It has a free clinic, gym, and daycare center. Only a monster would even think of displacing it. It’s a landmark. I want to say, “He can’t do that!” But the Crestfields can do almost anything.

“No. That's bull!”

“It’s just a rumor, but we all know how those start,” my dad says, a frown on his face.

“I heard from Ms. Jaber’s daughter, that Dexter Jr.’s in town. She was just hired as one of the groundskeepers. He’s leaving this evening, supposedly,” she mumbles. The community center helped my mom and me through some of the toughest times in our lives. It’s a cornerstone of the community.

I look at my watch. I have a couple of hours before Jenna and her parents get here for dinner.

“I’m going to talk to him before he leaves,” I say, grabbing my keys off the counter. “I’ll be back in enough time to change before Jenna and her parents get here.” I say over my shoulder and rush out of the front door. I climb into my truck and head towards the one person who can stop this before it gets going.

Dexter Jr.

***

Crestfield. The name alone evokes envy, fear or anger depending on who you’re talking to in Madison. They own almost half the town and have the biggest everything in the entire county. It wouldn’t be a problem if they were permanent residents, but they’re not. It’s mere extravagance—all for show, adding to their theatrics when they come in town to raise hell.

I’ve heard the phrase, “It’s nothing personal. Business is business.” But

destroying families and ruining lives isn’t business as usual.’ Messing with people’s livelihoods makes it personal.

Once I arrive at the Crestfield estate, I have to wait at the gate to be cleared by security.  When I’m in, I can’t help but feel repulsed by the decadence of it all.  The house and grounds are huge. The house alone is four times bigger than the community center. I’ll never understand how people can be so selfish and greedy.

I get out of my car and head towards the house my when phone starts to ring. I smile, seeing it’s Jenna. I slide my finger across the faceplate to answer the call.

“Hey future hubby.” She giggles.

“Future wife.” I chuckle, playing along.

“So...how’d your parents take the news?’ she asks, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

“Great. They’re really excited,” I say.   It’s half true.

“Really? Even your dad?” she asks in disbelief.

“He took it even better than my mom did,” I tell her, making my way up to the large French doors. I roll my eyes at the discreet camera above the door before ringing the bell.

“Better than your mom? What was wrong with your mom?” she asks, her pitch elevating slightly. I immediately regret my choice of words. Jenna picks up on almost everything. She’s like a bloodhound when someone’s hiding something. She’s good at reading people.

“My mom thinks it’s great,” I say, hoping to throw her off.

“You said better than your mom did. Meaning, your mom must have not taken it well,” she rattles off.

“I thought your mom loved me? She’s against this?” She’s gone from five to ten on her panic scale.

“No, it wasn’t like that. She was just surprised that’s all.” I sigh. I had to say “better.” That one little word triggered all this. The large doors have opened, and the Crestfields’ maid smiles warmly at me as she gestures for me to come in. I smile back to acknowledge her and walk in.

“My parents and I are coming over for dinner tonight and your mom is totally against us getting married. This is terrible!” she says, her panic-o-meter rising with every syllable.

“Jenna. My mom loves you. She loves your parents, dinner is going to be fantastic I promise, but I’ve got to go. I’ll call you back in a few. Love you,” I say as I hang up the phone, despite her protests.

“Mr. Christopher Scott?” the maid asks, a little hesitant. I’ve known her for years, but she always asks as if she’s unsure of who I am.

“How are you, Ms. Alma?” I smile as she leads me up the large winding stair case.

“Wonderful. Would you like something to drink?” she asks right before we reach the door to Dex’s office.

“No, I’m fine,” I reply.

“Mr. Scott. Christopher,” she announces as we enter Dexter’s office, even though he can see me.

“I always feel like I should bow or something,” I say sardonically. I notice Ms. Alma cover her laugh by clearing her throat.

“A nod and a little courtesy would work just as well,” he respondsdryly,barely glancing up from his computer screen.

“Will you be needing anything else, Mr. Crestfield?” she asks.

“That will be all. Thank you,” he says.

“Good to see you, Mr. Scott,” she says before leaving the room.

“You too,” I say, walking over to Dex’s desk.

“So what brings you here today, nephew? Long time, no hear from,” he says.  I hear the amusement in his voice as he leans back in his large leather chair. I don’t understand why he always has remind of me of our relation, but I guess if it didn’t matter I wouldn’t be here.

“Kreuk place. Just leave it alone. You guys own half the United States. Do you really need it?” I say, exasperated.

He chuckles. “Why don’t you have a seat, Christopher,” he says, gesturing towards one of the chairs in front of his desk.

“I’m okay standing,” I tell him. I’m not going to sit and shoot the breeze with him. I just want him to leave Kreuk place alone.

He frowns. “I’m sure Gwen has taught you better manners than that. When a host offers you a seat, you take it.  Especially when you’re asking a favor of said host. You smile and grant the request,” he says smugly. I take a deep breath and sit down.

“So, how have you been?” he asks as if we’re best friends. We’re cordial, distant relatives at best. It didn’t always used to be this way. Ten years ago after my grandmother died, Dex was sent to boarding school and the traits that were reminiscent of the better half of his parents seemed to be left behind.

“Fantastic,” I say shortly.

“You haven’t been seeing Dr. Lyce,” he says with an accusatory tone. I fold my arms.

“My condition is neurological not psychological. I don’t understand the point of me going.”

“She’s a Neuro-psychiatrist. It’s important that you see her in conjunction with...”

“Kreuk place, Dex. That’s why I’m here,” I interrupt him.  He’s getting off the subject, and I don’t plan on being here all day.

“We’ll talk about this first,” he says calmly, but there’s an edge in his voice that I’m sure causes his employees to cower. Good thing I don’t work for him.

“She’s one of the best in her field. You’re being remiss to disregard her expertise,” he says, a hint of anger in his voice. I take a deep breath and bury the urge to flip him off. I grit my teeth. This guy capable of bringing out the absolute worst in people.

“Your dad is being remiss by destroying a historical land mark—a place that helps a lot people.  What’s he going to do? Build a parking lot?!” I shoot back. He leans back in his seat amused.

“Look. It’s important to lots people here, our family included. Before he starts anything can you get him to just leave it alone," I say with a deep breath.

“You know once something’s underway with my father, it hasn’t just started, it’s already done,” he says nonchalantly. I fold my hands in frustration.

“But... that’s not his interest at the moment,” he adds lightly.

Great then, I can leave. “Well, I guess that’s it then,” I say rising from my seat.

“Congratulations are in order aren’t they? I hope we’ll be getting an invitation to the big event,” he says before I’m even a step away from my seat.

“What?”

“You’re engaged to...Jenna Mallory,” he says dryly.

I try to hide my surprise. I just proposed to her yesterday. I’d ask how he knows but there’s so many ways. He probably holds the lease on the jewelry store I bought the ring from.

“Are you ready for that step?” he asks. Lucky for me, this is the one person that I can care less what he thinks about anything.

“Well since you know everything, you tell me,” I say sarcastically. He smirks and stands from his desk.

“Marriage and family are the greatest gifts humanity was given,” he says, walking from around his desk. I fold my arms across my chest, wondering where this is leading. Dexter has always irked me since he left. He’s only three years older than me but always feels the need to talk like some Ivy League college professor.

“Sometimes things happen, and they don’t always turn out how you hope or plan for.” There’s a lingering hint of regret in his voice. “Today, for instance, I’d give anything to attend my goddaughter’s first birthday party.” He picks up a picture frame off his desk and reflects on it. I wonder what kind of desperate person would choose him as a godparent. The money hungry kind, no doubt. I know he’s not religious. But for teaching a kid values like honesty, integrity,and hard work, he’s not the ideal candidate.

He glances up at me from the picture. “She’s beautiful. Take a look.” He holds out the picture. I don’t care much for the guy, but refusing to look at a picture of his goddaughter would be a prick-ish move.

I take the picture and my eyes lock on it almost involuntarily. It’s a woman and a little girl. The woman in picture is beautiful with long dark hair and wide almond shaped eyes. The little girl in the picture doesn’t look much like her, she looks like...

The picture drops from my hand as a shooting pain shoots through my head. “Ahh!” I grasp my head and hold it.

No. Not now. Not in Dexter’s office.

“Christopher, are you okay?” Dex asks, walking towards me. I stumble backwards, finding the chair I was in earlier. I hear my heart beating in my ears. I haven’t had a headache like this since I can’t even remember, but it’s never hit so fast and hard.

I groan, gripping my head. I hear Dex’s voice, but it’s starting to sound far away as my vision starts to blur. “Call my parents!” I try to say, but I’m not sure if I’ve even said it at all as everything turns black.

Chapter 2

I’m cold but my face is warm…almost hot. My eye lids feel like bricks. I manage to open them as they adjust to the sunlight. My back hurts. I stretch my body. It’s stiff, and cramped up. I lift myself up and see that I’m laid out in the back seat of my truck.

How did I get here? My eyes scan the truck for my cell phone and wallet. I have to have my keys, otherwise how would I have gotten in my truck? This is bad. Out of all of the times for this to happen! Why now?

I see an envelope taped on the rear view mirror, and there’s a word on it. I can't really see what. My contacts have dried out and feel stuck to my eyelids. I reach and grab it; it’s heavy. The envelope is tightly secured, and it takes some effort to free it. Once I do, I can read the word “Open” in red ink. So I do, and in it I find my wallet, phone and keys. My phone is dead. I’m afraid to know what time it is or day even.

I get out of the truck, and thank God, I’m parked behind my parents’ house. The sun is bright; I’m praying its mid-afternoon.  That’d mean I’ve only been out a few hours. If it’s morning, I’m screwed.

I reach the back door to our house and fiddle for my door key. How did I get here? Think, think! But it’s no use. This has happened a thousand times before.

I walk into the kitchen.  It’s empty, no smell of food and my stomach drops. That means my mom isn’t cooking dinner. Which also means it can’t be the same day, and I've missed dinner with Jenna and her parents. She’s going to kill me!

My eyes find the clock above the table in the kitchen. It’s 9:30 and definitely not pm. I’ve really screwed up.

“Mom! Dad!” I call out. I rush to the living room. Most likely they went out looking for me when I missed dinner. This is bad, really bad.  All my talk about being better, and my two-year, blackout-free stretch has gone down the drain.

“Chris.” I hear a light, groggy voice call out from behind me. I turn around and see Lisa sitting up on the couch. I didn’t even notice her. I let out a sigh of relief that it’s her. Out of all the people, I’m glad Lisa’s the first to see me.  She’ll let me know what’s happened while I was out and not freak out or be pissed at me.

“Sorry you don’t have a better welcome wagon. Your parents had me driving around all night looking for you. They went out looking for you again early this morning, and had me stay here in case you got back,” she explains.

“How bad did I screw up?” I sigh and take a seat beside her.

“On a scale of one to ten, with your parents like a five. They’re more worried about you than anything. With Jenna like a 12.”

I throw my head back into the sofa.

“Ugh. How long?” I groan. Of all days for this to happen…

“Your mom said you’d been gone since three o’ clock yesterday. You still don’t remember anything?” she asks, starting to fold up the blanket she was under. She’s surprisingly calm. Well, not surprisingly. Lisa’s always pretty calm and laid back even in the most hectic situations, but when she’s pissed, she can go from zero to ten pretty fast.

“The last thing I really remember was telling my parents that I had proposed to Jenna. Everything after that is a blur,” I admit.

“Look. Go get in the shower and clean up.  Call Jenna and apologize like your life depends on it,” she sighs.

“But the bottom line is, if you guys are going to be together she’s going to have to get used to this. It’s not like she’s going into this blind. She knows about your condition,” she says simply. I wish it was that simple.

“Easier said than done. Her parents were here from Seattle, and her fiancé doesn't show up. That’s a promising beginning of an engagement. Her dad already can’t stand me.”

She turns towards me. “She loves you. She’ll get over it. It’s not like you skipped out on her to go get drunk with strippers or something,” she says, patting me on the shoulder.

“Did you?” She grins.

“No!” My eyes bulge. I bet that’s what Jenna thinks.

“You’re no fun Chris. Go get in the shower. You look like hell. I’ll call your parents and ‘the fiancé’ and tell them you’re safe and sound,” she says and pushes me toward the stairs.

“Give me your phone, I’ll charge it up for you, go and fix yourself up. You’ll have a much better chance if you flash those ‘forgive-me’ green eyes at her without eye crust and accompanying morning breath,” she jokes.

***

The shower cleaned me up,but my brain is still fuzzy. I lost 18 hours. Not bad, considering some of my other blackouts lasted weeks at a time but the timing sucks. If I could remember one thing. Some clue as to how I ended up asleep in my truck in the back of my house. Why wouldn’t I just go to bed? And then that weird envelope on my mirror almost as if I knew I wouldn't find it if it wasn’t there. That means I had to have some form of consciousness or someone was with me. But where’d they go? If someone wanted to rob me, they wouldn’t leave me with my wallet and car. I hear voices down stairs.  They’re both women. My stomach drops. I know one has to be Jenna. She’s going to be furious.

“Look give him a break. Don’t you think he feels bad enough?” I hear Lisa's voice before I’m down the stairs.

“Don’t tell me how to act or how to feel. You’re not the one who sat here for hours waiting on her fiancé with her parents, looking like an complete idiot,” Jenna’s voice screeches.

“I’m sorry, but you do know that he has a neurological condition, right? You act like he did this deliberately!” Lisa fires back. Jenna starts to say something, but they both quiet when they see me.

“Hey.” I let out a breath as I walk towards Jenna. She’s wearing big round black sunglasses and her arms are folded across her chest.

“So you’re alive,” she states sharply. Lisa huffs.

“I got to get out of here.” she starts to walk off but turns and curtseys. “Queen Jenna, it would be nice if maybe instead of freakin’ out on the guy, you give him a fucking hug,” she says before storming out of the dining room.

“Have a fantastic day, Lisa!” Jenna shouts sarcastically before turning her attention to me. She takes off her glasses and what I see breaks my heart. Her eyes are puffy. I can tell she’s been crying.

“So you think I’m being a bitch too? That I don’t have a right to be upset? That I’m just this selfish angry pre-bridezilla?”

“Jenna, I’m sorry.” I try to pull her into a hug but she pushes me away.  She sits down and covers her face.

“So what happened, Chris?” she asks, and I really wish I could give her an answer.

“I—I don’t know. The last thing I remember is telling my parents we were engaged,” I admit, sitting in the chair across from her.

“You know you talked to me right?” she asks sharply. I shake my head. I don’t remember talking to her after telling my parents.

“Yeah you told me your mom wasn’t thrilled about us getting married and then rushed me off the phone,” she says in a huff. I know I wouldn’t have told her that. At least, I wouldn’t have used those words.

“Did I tell you where I was?” I ask confused.

“No. You rushed me off the phone and said you’d call me back in a few minutes. Next thing I know, my parents are at my house, and I still haven’t heard from you. Then we’re at your door, and your parents have no clue where you are. That was so much fun. My father was absolutely thrilled,” she says in an exaggerated tone as the doorbell rings.

“I thought I was doing better, Jenna. I never would have dragged you into this if I knew this was starting again.” I stand up and hold my head in frustration. No woman in her right mind would want to deal with this. I don’t want to deal with this. I hear her sigh.

“You’re not dragging me into anything, Chris. I’m sorry. I know this is hard for you too. It’s just, ugh, the timing couldn’t be worse, could it?” She laughs, and her slender arms wrap around my stomach. I wrap my arms around her back and take in her scent. She smells like berries mixed with a hint of cigarette smoke. I pull back from her.

“Come on, Jenna. I thought you were done with that?” I say, disappointed. She’s been cigarette-free for the past three months after my guilt tripping and nagging. I blame my mom being diagnosed with cancer for that.

“I pretty much earned one of these after yesterday, and it wasn’t that many,” she says, defending herself. I can’t argue with that. The doorbell rings again and again, and then there’s frantic knocking.

“Who the hell is that?” Jenna asks.

“I don’t know.” My parents have keys, and Lisa would come through the back of the house.

“Let me get the door,” I say. I feel like a load of bricks has been lifted off my chest. She’s mad, but she’s still with me.

I open the door, and see a woman retreating down the stairs.

“Can I help you?” I ask. She sort of stumbles over her own feet and grabs the railing. I instinctively step forward. Maybe she’s disoriented. She says something but she’s facing the opposite way.  Her voice is light, and I can barely hear her. She turns around, and her eyes lock onto mine.

They’re bright, hazel, and almond-shaped. Her stare is ethereal, almost haunting, and won’t let go of me. They make me feel like I’ve seen her before, or known her forever but that’s impossible. She’s not someone I’d forget. Too beautiful to be forgotten.

Maybe I saw her in a movie, or she was in a show I used to watch when I was a kid. She’s grown up, and that’s why I can't place her. That has to be it.  Maybe she’s an actress whose car stopped in our little town and she needs her tire changed or something. But none of that explains why she’s crying. And now she’s touching my face, and I’m frozen, stuck in place. I can’t move. I’m telling my feet to step backwards but they won’t budge.

“It’s you,” she says, throwing her arms around me. The wind blows her long dark hair in my face. I steal another glance at her and even though she’s crying her face is lit up with recognition. She knows me, or think she does. I'm getting more freaked out by the minute. She’s holding me so tight I can feel her heart beat. It’s almost stampeding through her chest. Hell, maybe it’s mine.This random,albeit beautiful woman is crying and hugging me while my fiancé is less than a few feet away, and I can’t move. The worst part is that my brain isn’t connecting with my body because my arms are moving to hug her—well, they’re trying to, but that sure as hell isn’t happening!

I’m all for helping a woman in distress, but if Jenna finds me out here hugging this girl, especially after yesterday, I’m screwed. But it’s taking so much to stop them. I’m literally shaking, or maybe her shaking is causing me to shake. Before I can open my mouth to ask who she is, I hear footsteps behind me.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Hazel Eyes says, squeezing me tighter.

“Chris, who is this?” Jenna’s voice sends a chill up my spine, and the girl lets me go.  She looks up at me, confusion replacing the previous euphoria on her face.

“Chris?”

She steps away from me, her attention turning to Jenna.

“Chris? His name isn’t Chris!” Her voice is sharp and a little terrifying. Her gaze is directed back at me, the vulnerable exterior she previously had is gone.  Now there’s fire behind her eyes. Jenna walks closer to us, surprisingly calmer than I thought she would be.

“I—I don't know!” I answer quickly. I’m trying to move again but my freakin’ body isn’t working. I can’t move away from this girl.

“Who am I? Who are you?” she asks, her voice raising an octave and a second later, with the look she gives me, I swear she’s about to throw a right hook my way. I’m starting to think this woman, with eyes like an angel, no taller than maybe 5’3, could be out of her mind crazy, and my damn feet won’t let me get away from her.

“What!” she shouts angrily, but the disbelief in her voice and despair in her eyes makes my heart break. I don’t know who she thinks I am, but if it’d take away the hurt in her eyes, I’d be whoever she wants me to be.

What is wrong with me?

“I think you have me confused with someone else,” I tell her hesitantly. I turn to Jenna. The calmness I was surprised with earlier is suddenly replaced with the anger I expected.

“She just started crying when she saw me,” I try to explain.

“What the hell are you talking about?!” the girl says, her tone loud but her voice weak, almost pleading. My chest is tightening like someone’s standing on it. I try to control my breathing. The last thing I need is Jenna thinking this is something it isn’t.

“She doesn’t seem to have you confused!” Jenna says angrily, eyeing the woman.

“Cal, what the hell are you trying to pull?” the girl yells. I glance back at her. At least the fire is back. My feet are finally able to move.

“My name is Chris,” I tell her, moving towards Jenna, who seems a little less angry since this girl seems to be looking for a guy name Cal. This all just has to be one big misunderstanding.

“Look, who are you?” Jenna asks. She seems more annoyed than angry now.

“I’m his wife, that’s who I am. Who the hell are you?!” the little brunette spits, and with those words I’m in hell, literally hell. I’m afraid to even look at Jenna, but she’s laughing. She’s lost it. I’m standing in between two psychotic women.

“Ooh, I see. This is a joke. Good one, Chris. You almost had me for a minute, but you know I see right through your pranks.” She pats me on the chest. Then I realize that this has to be a joke, a prank that Lisa is pulling. I let out a little sigh of relief, but the other woman on the porch is livid. Her nostrils are flaring, eyes wide and if this were a horror movie, this would be the part when her head starts spinning or she sets the house on fire.

“Does it look like I’m joking?” she asks frantically, tears welling in her eyes. This woman is way too good to be in Lisa’s budget.

“Cal tell her!” she demands, and I’m afraid this prank is getting way out of control.

“My name isn’t Cal.” I’m about to have an anxiety attack right here. I’ve been lucky enough to never have one of those, but I’m pretty sure this is what it feels like.

“Chris, who is she?!” Jenna yells. No one thinks this a prank anymore.

“Jenna, I’ve never seen this woman before in my life!” I shout.

“You ass hole!” The brunette is now pushing me.  If she wasn’t so small, I’d be pushed into the door.

“You don’t know who I am now?”

I don’t know what to do. I’m trying to avoid touching her, but Jenna’s looking at me like she’s about to push me next if I don’t do something.

“Well who gave me this?” Thankfully she’s stopped.  But then she starts to pull something out of her jacket and hurls it at me. Whatever it is, Jenna snatches it up and inspects it. Oh no, please don’t be what it looks like.

“Chris, this is a wedding ring!” she shouts, thrusting it in my face. Jenna should know that this isn’t from me. The thing looks like it costs more than I make in a year.

“I’ve never seen that before in my life! I’ve never seen her in my life!”

“Chris, don’t lie to me!” Jenna’s shouting, and she’s starting to cry. I’ve never seen her cry before.

“She doesn’t even know my name! She’s crazy!” I shout just to get her to hear me. This is crazy. How could she think I could be married to anyone one else? I just proposed to her, that’s illegal. Jenna’s still staring at the ring. I grab her hand.

“Jenna, I swear to you. I have no idea what she’s talking about,” I try to tell her more calmly, and now the other woman is laughing hysterically.

“Who the hell is she to you? This is why you left? Is this who you left me for?!” Hazel Eyes is grabbing me now.

“He’s my fiancé!” Jenna yells at her.

“How the hell can he marry you when he’s still married to me?!” she shrieks. Now, I’m pissed. This isn’t a game or a joke. This crap she’s selling can destroy my life.

“I don’t even know you! Who are you? How do you know me?” I ask her, not hiding my anger.

“All of this time—all of this time!—you’ve been lying to me and now…Now! You act as if you don’t even know who I am!” She’s crying hysterically, and I instantly regret yelling at her. I feel a dull headache coming on, but that’s not happening now. I won’t blackout now! She’s leaving the porch.  Slowly, but leaving. I want to tell her not to drive in her current state.  But the best thing for me, is for her to be as far away as possible so I can to try to salvage this mess.

“I want a divorce! I never want to see you again! Don’t you ever come near me or Caylen again! I’ll send your shit through Dexter. I want it all out of my house!” she shouts. Oh no. How the hell would she know Dexter?

“How does she know Dexter? How the hell does she know Dexter, Chris?” Now Jenna is shouting at me.

“I don’t know, Jenna! This has to be a joke!” And now I’m the one who’s laughing. There’s nothing else I can do but laugh. My life is about to crumble around me, and I don’t know what the fuck is going on.

“Joke!  I’m a joke?! You think ruining my life was a fucking joke?” the woman screams, now rushing towards me.  She throws all her weight against me, her movements frantic and all over the place.  She swings her fists at my face, and I have to grab her to stop her because if I don’t, she’ll do some serious damage.

“Get your hands off him!” Jenna screams and attempts to tug her away from me, but I don’t need the help. This girl is pissed, but she weighs almost nothing.

I grab the girl by her waist to lift her up and carry her to the other side of the porch. When I lose my grip on her hands, she jabs one directly into Jenna’s face hard, and Jenna tumbles to the ground. I let the brunette down to try to go help Jenna, but now she’s up and rushing toward the brunette. I grab her to stop what’s about to be a fight. Jenna tries to reach over me and manages to capture a hand full of Hazel Eyes’ hair. I’m able to somehow pry her fingers loose but I also get elbowed several times in the process. After trying to juggle both women, I pick Jenna up and carry her to the other side of the porch. I hear the door open from my house and have never been more grateful to see my dad appear, even though the brunette has calmed down.

“What’s going on?” My dad asks, looking bewildered.

“This psycho just attacked us!” Jenna yells, finally settling down in my arms when she sees my dad.

“This has nothing to do with you! This is between me and my husband!” The brunette says sharply, catching her breath.

“What?!” My dad asks her angrily.

“Tell her, Dad. She doesn’t believe me!” I plead. Will someone try to wake me up from this nightmare? The brunette is slowly moving off our porch but she seems unstable.  She’s about to pass out, and I run over and catch her right before she collapses. I pick her up as my dad looks at me disapprovingly, and Jenna’s eyes shoot daggers at me. What was I supposed to do? Let her collapse to the ground?

My mom steps onto the porch, joining this freak show.

“What’s going on?” she asks, panicked.

“I’d sure as hell like to know!” Jenna laughs bitterly. My mom walks over to me and looks at the girl in my arms. Her breath catches.

“Lauren?” She looks down at the woman passed out in my arms, her eyes wide with recognition like she’s just seen a ghost. Her lip quivers, and her hand shoots up quickly to cover her mouth.

“You know her?” Jenna and I both ask in unison. My mom looks between Jenna and me.

My dad lets out a gruff sigh and covers his face. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” His groans escalate with each expletive, and I know something is wrong.

“Honey, go lay her down in the living room and take Jenna home. When you get back we have something we really need to tell you,” she says, tears in her eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere! Who the hell is this woman, and why do you know her?” Jenna screeches.

“Jenna calm down,” I tell her. I know she’s mad and confused. So am I, but I won’t let her scream in my mom’s face.

“I will not! Who is this? She shows up saying she’s married to you with a ring that costs a hell of a lot more than the one you gave me! You claim you don’t know her, but she knows Dexter. Your mother obviously knows her, and you think I’m going to be sent home like an errant child. I want to know who this woman is right now or I swear to God I will never speak to you again, Christopher!” Jenna says as tears stream down her cheeks.

“Jenna, please!” My dad roars, and we’re all taken aback, especially Jenna. The authority in his voice, for once, reminds me of a Crestfield.

“Please let Chris take you home. It’s not what you think. I promise you both will have answers by the end of the day, just let us take care of this for now.” His voice calmer, but no less authoritative. Jenna looks at me, and I shake my head. I don’t know what’s going on, but I know Jenna and I staying here will only make things worse. Besides, I really don't want to be here when this girl wakes up.

My dad comes over and reaches for the woman lying in my arms. I want to hand her over, but my body is hesitant and I’m confused as to why I’m protective of someone I've never even met, especially with my dad. I trust him with my life. My mom looks me in the eye and reassuringly squeezes my shoulder.

“It’s okay. She’s safe with us,” she says, looking me directly in the eyes.

“Oh, FUCK me,” Jenna shouts, and I realize how this looks. I don’t understand anything that’s going on. I hand the girl over to my dad but by the time I do, Jenna has shot down the porch and is headed towards her car.

“Jenna,” I shout, running after her. She whips around and holds her hand out.

“No. You stay! That is obviously where your concern lies right now!” she says, hysterically opening her car door.

“Jenna, no! It’s not like that!” I plead as she slams the door in my face. I try to open it but she’s locked it. She lets her window down.

“Stay the hell away from me, Chris. Go attend to your wife!” she yells before pulling out of the driveway. I kick the dirt and punch the air. My life has turned into a living hell. I glance up, and my dad is back in the house. My mom stands on the porch looking at me with tears in her eyes.

“How do you know her, Mom?” I’m shouting now. I know it’s not her fault but she knows something. I’m so mad, there are tears in my eyes now.

“Christopher,” she pleads.

“Tell me!” I shout again.

“Chris.” My dad has reappeared in the doorway and comes down to meet me. “Go after your fiancé. We’ll explain later,” he says. His voice is calm as he hands me my phone and keys, ignoring my perplexed expression. He takes my mother’s hand and leads her into the house.

I’m in the twilight zone. How is he so calm right now? I don’t take time to question him. I hop in my truck, ready to go after Jenna but slam my hands on the steering wheel. She’s not going to hear anything I have to say unless I have an explanation for all this.

I pull out my phone to call her. I see all the missed calls yesterday from Jenna, my parents, and Lisa. There are voicemails from each of their numbers plus one unknown. I hit the prompt to play the one from the unknown number. At first all I hear is a lot of static and wind. Then it starts.

“You really are more fucking dense than I thought. All of these years and you still think you’re just having blackouts?! I don't have much time so I’ll get to the point. You can’t get married because you already are, dumbass. Talk to Dexter. Make this right or I’ll have to do it for you. Stay away from any Altars.” The voice chuckles. “No pun intended. If you don’t, there will be hell to pay. You can bet on that. Oh and by the way, since no one gave two shits to inform you, I’m Cal.”

I replay the message again and again. My hands won’t stop shaking. The scary part is, this is the second time today I’ve heard the name Cal. But, what terrifies me is the voice in the message is mine.

Chapter 3

This is a joke. Some sick, messed up, twisted joke. I slam my phone into the steering wheel as Dexter’s voicemail comes on for the thousandth time. Who did I piss off to deserve this? My whole life I’ve tried to do the right thing; listen to my parents, treat people with respect, follow the rules, and I end up with a brain disorder that causes me to have blackouts and amnesia.

Then, after everything that’s happened today, I get this voice on my phone—this asshole on my phone—adding a million questions to the hundred I had before even listening to the message.

How could this person sound just like me? Who am I kidding it doesn’t sound like me, it is me. But how? It’s impossible. Why would I call myself Cal? It couldn't have been me. The worst part is, today of all days, this girl shows up claiming that I’m her husband whose name happens to be Cal. I’m afraid to put the pieces of all this together.

“Make this right or there will be hell to pay!” Who the hell does this guy think he is to threaten me? Why would I threaten myself at all? This can’t be real. Maybe it isn’t my voice. I want to run back in the house and let my parents listen to the message, but the girl is still there. I definitely can’t deal with that right now. And why would I talk to Dexter about fixing this instead of my parents. I call Jenna and pray for her to pick up. If anyone can tell if this isn’t my voice, it’ll be her.

“Don’t call me anymore Chris!” she yells at me.

“Jenna. I really need to see you,” I plead.

“Oh, you need me? What about the wife you were oh so protective of? The one you supposedly don’t know,” she says sarcastically. I’m really starting to rethink letting her listen to this message.

“Jenna. I’m scared,” I interrupt. I’ve always been honest with her, and I hope that will count for something. There’s a long pauses.

“I’m on the corner of 4th and Higgins,” she says and hangs up the phone. 4th and Higgins is only about three minutes away. I don’t usually speed, but today is an exception. I see her car parked right on the corner. I get out and walk to the driver side.

“Can I get in?” I ask.  The scowl she gives me answers that question. I try to think of the best way to preface the message. To explain to her that I don’t know why this voice sounds like me, and the fact it’s talking about things I have no idea about. I really need her help in figuring this out.

“What? You’re really making me nervous!” she says, looking up at me. I know there’s no disclaimer that can prepare her for what she’s about to hear. I just hope that she’ll say it isn’t me.  If I’m really optimistic, she’ll say we’ll figure this out together. I take a deep breath, play the message, and watch her face go from angry to horrified.

“What the hell Chris?!” she says angrily. My stomach drops. This conversation isn’t going to go how I hoped.

“Is this a fucking joke?” she yells at me.

“Jenna that isn’t me,” I say hopelessly. It sounds like me but it can’t be...

“Bullshit! It sure as hell sounds like you! How could…why are you doing this?” She starts to cry.

“That’s not me Jenna. I don’t know how this is possible, but it’s not me,” I plead with her. “Why would I do this, Jenna?  Why?!” I tell her as she rolls her window up. I stick my arm in to prevent it from closing completely.

“What am I supposed to say to this?” she screeches

“I don’t know,” I say exhausted.

“Help me figure this out, I need you,” I plead with her.

“You’re saying this isn’t you, but it sounds a hell of a lot like you. You’re saying—you’re saying you’re fucking married in the message, right after this crazy woman shows up and says she’s your wife. I’m starting to think maybe you’re the crazy one, and she’s sane as hell!” she says, her voice straining.

“If I was lying, why would I let you listen to this, Jenna?” I shout back at her. She’s shaking her head furiously. Jenna has always been analytical and able to cut through bullshit. She can tell if someone is lying before they open their mouth, but now she can’t do any of it.

“Help me think, Jenna. What are the reasonable explanations for this? You’re in law school. You’re all facts, right? What are the facts here?” I grab the back of my head with one hand in frustration, keeping the other in her car window since I’m still not sure she won’t pull off if I move it. She lets out a sigh.

“Get in, Chris,” she says defeated. I do so immediately, but she won’t even look at me.

“Let me see the phone,” she says, letting out a deep breath. I hand it to her and replay the message. Her face is now stoic. She plays it again and again and it makes me cringe each time.

“This is your voice, but it doesn’t really sound like you at all. The tone, inflection, phrasing are all wrong. You hardly ever swear.” She sighs again and rubs her temples.

“He says I haven’t figured it out,” I say, referring to the voice as another person because it’s not me. Not in a million years.

“About him. It has to be. He’s introducing himself at the end of the call. He’s smug and arrogant because he knows more than you do. But your lack of information has screwed him.”

“Why is he saying I’m married? Why would he even care that we’re getting married? I don't know this guy.” I fold my hands together tightly. She rests her head on her the steering wheel and after a few seconds, her head pops up. She finally looks at me, her expression pained.

“What?” I ask, afraid to hear what she's about to say.

“Because he is you,” she says quietly.

“Jenna, that’s not me.”

“Yes, it is. It all makes sense.” Realization is dawning on her.

“This woman showing up, your mom knows her, your parents...” She sighs.

“No, that isn’t me!” I shout angrily.

“What if these blackouts aren’t just blackouts? What if it’s more than that? What if you’re conscious and doing things you don’t remember, but as another person?”

“No. That’s impossible.” I shake my head. No way. No way could that be possible.

“It makes sense,” she says sharply.

“How? How could I do that without anyone knowing?” I ask defensively.

“Well obviously people do know. Dexter for one. He tells you to talk to him and…” she pauses hesitantly.

“What?” I ask.

“Your parents have to know,” she says cautiously, wiping her eyes.

“No! No way! My parents wouldn’t keep something like that from me. There’s no way.”

“Thanks, Jenna, but no. There has to be another explanation.” I get out of her car. No, not possible.

“Think about it, Chris! How did your mom know who that woman was?” she calls after me, she gets out of the car and follows behind me.

“Why did they tell you they would explain? If they didn’t know what was going on, how would they be able to explain anything?!”

My throat is burning, I start to panic. I turn around to face her. “If this, if you’re right. Do you know what this means?” I yell, to release my frustration. Helplessness. I feel sick. The only thing keeping me from vomiting is that she has to be wrong.  She’s hardly ever wrong.

“You think I’m happy about this?” she shouts back at me. “You think I want to be right? That I haven’t been willing this to be a case of mistaken identity, some outrageous misunderstanding?” Her voice isbreaking. She covers her face and turns away. “If this is true, you’re fucking married, Chris!”

“I don’t want this to be true! I have never wanted to be more wrong in my life... But I don’t think I am.” She takes in a deep breath. “Your parents,” she moans. “If I’m right, and they know…” She shakes her head defiantly. “How could they do this? How could they not tell you?” She’s hysterical and I grab her and hug her tightly.  She looks exactly how I feel inside: angry, confused, and frantic. I can’t let her see that I’m as scared as she is, even more. Because if this is true my life will never be the same.

***

I follow Jenna to her house to make sure she makes it in the state she’s in. She gets out and walks over to my car.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to go with you?” she asks quietly. I nod my head. I really do want her to, but I don’t know what I’m about to hear, and she’s not as good at keeping her emotions in check as I am.

“I’ll call you as soon as I’m done talking to them,” I say, trying my best to smile. She leans down to kiss me but doesn’t on my lips, just right near them. I’m not sure what to make of that. My brain is too tired to analyze it.

As soon as she closes the door behind her, I hit the gas and head to my house. There are so many things running through my head. The voice named Cal. What Dexter has to do with this?  Jenna’s theory. My parents.  The girl my mom called Lauren, who, if Jenna is right, is...I won’t even think about what that means.

When I pull onto our street, I see a white Audi parked across the street from our house. I didn’t notice it before, but it’s hard to miss now. That has to be the girl’s car, which means she’s still here. My stomach turns. I pull around to the back of the house. I park in my normal spot and go in through the kitchen, once I make sure the coast is clear.

“I want to talk to Cal. Right now!” I hear her voice yell. My stomach to drops, and I move closer to the door so that I can to hear.

“Does he not want to see me? The damage has already been done! I just–He owes me an explanation!” I hear footsteps approach, and I move back from the door.

“Lauren, please calm down,” I hear my mom say, and the footsteps stop.

“You know my name?” I hear the girl ask. She sounds as surprised as I was. She doesn’t know my parents.

“We know who you are. You’re Cal’s wife,” I hear my father say. My throat tightens. How do they know this ‘Cal’ guy? My heart is beating faster and faster, but I know there is a reasonable explanation for this. There has to be.

“So he told you about me? Then, why does he act like he doesn’t know me? Is it because of that woman out there? I’m sorry I don’t know who… He never mentioned you. He—he…” her voice trails off, and I’m as close as I can be to the door without going through it.

“He doesn’t know who you are. The person you saw earlier wasn’t Cal,” my mom says, and I let out the breath I’ve been holding. The knots in my stomach release.  I can’t help the wide smile that spreads across my face as a sense of relief courses through my system.

“I don’t understand… No that was Cal. I know it. It has to be,” the girl says adamantly. She sounds so sure about it, I feel sorry for her. I don’t know who this Cal guy is or how she could feel so strongly about a guy who seems like an asshole…

“Are you telling me that… is he Cal’s brother? Is he Cal’s twin?”

Why didn’t Jenna and I come up with that? It would make so much sense. Maybe I have a twin, or a brother who looks like me. I don’t know anything about my birth parents.  It’s entirely possible, but the message...It doesn’t fit unless he’s screwing with me, but why?

“Yes,” my dad answers.

“William, no. No more lies.  She deserves to know the truth. We agreed that we’d tell her,” my mom says sternly, and my stomach churns. My heart is beating in my ears.

You can't get married because you already are....Since no one gave two shits to inform you. I'm Cal.

I hear voices, but I can’t tell who’s saying what. I squeeze my temples together and make myself focus. The one thing Dr. Lyce told me to try to do to prevent blacking out. I’ve been getting better at it the past year.

“…I understand he used me. … He never loved me,” the girl states before she cries. I’ve missed something. I put my ear back to the door.

“Oh, no sweetheart, you have the wrong idea,” My mother says, and I don't know what I missed.

“Chris and Cal share the same body, but the person you met today is Chris, not Cal. That’s the reason why he reacted the way that he did. He truly doesn’t know who you are. Cal is a separate personality from Chris....”

I’m going to be sick.

I’m going to throw up right here.

“Chris has what is called Dissociative Identity Disorder,” my mom says, and I’ve heard enough. I’m dizzy. I make my way over to the kitchen table. The room feels like it’s getting smaller. My chest constricts.

“You–you’re both lying for him. You’re covering for him!” the girl shouts.

“We’re telling you the truth. Chris doesn’t know who you are. He doesn’t know what Cal does,” I hear my mom say, and I can’t take anymore. No. No. No!

I burst out of the kitchen, onto the back porch, and right over the railing, all the contents of whenever I last ate pour out of me. I’m outside but I can’t get enough air.

I’m Cal.

I try to catch my breath and wipe away the hot tears escaping my eyes. All of this time. No clue. I thought I just had amnesia, an undiagnosed neurological disorder. It was all a lie. My life is a lie or one of them is. How is this possible? How can something like this actually happen? Why would they lie to me? How could they do this? Two years! Two years I’ve gone without this happening. Well, aside from yesterday.

I’ve finally finished my bachelor’s degree, I’ve gotten engaged, landed a steady job, and they let me do all of it knowing that this freak is living inside of me. But really I’m the freak, I’m crazy. I’m the psycho.

I pull out my phone and listen to the message again then throw it across the field. Who the heck is this guy? Why don’t I have a clue about any of this? Why does he know more than I do? I kick the dirt. I really need something to hit, or even break. I feel like I’m breaking, and now, without realizing it, I’m crying.

I haven’t cried since I found out my mom had cancer. I felt helpless then, and I feel the same way now. Everything I’ve worked for seems meaningless. I look back at the house and think of the girl inside. How could I be married to her? I don’t even know who she is. What do I say to her? To Jenna? I can’t marry her while I’m married to someone else, and if I’m not cured...Is there even a cure for this? When will this Cal guy pop up next? I think back to yesterday and shudder. It happened then. He came out...and he called me. He, who he is me...right? No, that guy can’t be me. I’m nothing like that. I sit on the porch, my head between my knees. What am I going to do? How do I explain this to people? How do I, can I live like this? My parents didn’t believe I could. They would have told me if they thought I could handle it.

Dissociative Identity Disorder. What the hell does that even mean?  It might as well be freaking “living inside of you disease.” I take a deep breath and head back in the house. There’s still yelling coming from behind the door but I ignore it. I head up the stairs and into my room. I flip open my laptop, pull up the search engine, and then stare at it. I sit down and stuff my head in my hands. They’re shaking. Once I do this, there’s no going back. But really there’s no going back now.

I type in Dissociative Identity Disorder in and hit enter. 1,080,000 results. Wow. I scroll down and click on what seems like the most official link.

Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), previously referred to as multiple personality disorder, is a dissociative disorder involving a disturbance of identity in which two or more separate and distinct personality states (or identities) control an individual's behavior at different times. When under the control of one identity, a person is usually unable to remember the events that occurred while other personalities were in control. The different identities, referred to as alters, may exhibit differences in speech, mannerisms, attitudes, thoughts, and gender orientation. The alters may even present physical differences, such as allergies, right-or-left handedness, or the need for eyeglass prescriptions. These differences between alters are often quite striking.

I stare at the screen taking in all of the information. You’d think this would be empowering, finally knowing what’s wrong with me. But it’s terrifying because it makes this real. After reading about this for the past half hour, I haven’t seen that there is a cure. Treatment, therapy, something about integration which makes no freakin’ sense. Apparently I’m lucky though, there’s only one ...‘alter.’ That’s what Cal is, an ‘alter’. I suppose it could be worse, Cal could be a woman, and my husband could have showed up today…I think of his message and how he joked about it, knowing I had no clue what he was talking about. This guy is a prick. Hopefully he’s the only one, but who knows? I try not to think about what all this means.  It’s kind of landed on my doorstep this morning, literally.

My head weighs a thousand pounds. I want to wake up, run from this, for it to only be a nightmare. My life has gone from finally getting on track to straight to hell in a matter of minutes. I wonder who else knows and watched me blindly go through life without knowing the truth. Dexter obviously knew, but the real act of betrayal is my parent’s lies. I never trusted him, but them…how could they do something like this?

I hear a car screech outside and see the white Audi pulling off. She’s gone. Maybe for good. She had no clue what was going on. This Cal guy has screwed us both over. If I were her I’d walk away and leave this mess behind. If he’s anything like I think he is, she’s lucky. Nothing tying her to this mess, but if that’s the case Jenna should leave too.

She’s not tied to me. We’re only engaged.

Are we engaged? Can you even get engaged while married to someone else? Married. Im married? No Cal’s married. That sounds even more ridiculous than me being married. I’m...Cal or Cal is me? It’s a bad math equation. How is it possible for him to have a whole relationship and manage to get engaged and married while this was happening? I should have some recollection of her. Well I did, kind of, but nothing concrete, no memories, just familiarity...

The emotion that poured off that girl when she saw me. She looked at me as if I was her world. She was devastated when I didn’t know who she was. He couldn’t have had time to have a relationship like that. How could he forge a connection with someone that intense when he could disappear at any moment? They couldn’t have been in love.

Fix this or there will be hell to pay.

And who is he to threaten me? How am I supposed to fix this? I didn’t even know about any of this until today. He’s the one who ruined my life! The part that sucks about this the most is there’s nothing I can do. I’m powerless. How can I marry Jenna and not know when this guy will show up? I don’t know anything about him. How can I take his threat seriously? What if I marry Jenna one day and wake up as this guy the next? She doesn’t deserve that.

I look under my bed and pull out calendars I used to keep before my blackouts stopped two years ago, when I started tracking the time I lost. I have four books worth. 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011. I used to keep track of how many days I didn’t remember. I look over them all, counting. 12 days one month, 16 the next. 7, 10, 18, 22. I total them all together and out of four years, I was aware of what I was doing for 750 days. A little more than half of the time frame. That’s a hell of a lot of time for this Cal guy to do a lot of damage to my life…and build his own.

A burning starts in my throat and spreads to my chest. I grab the calendars and start ripping them up and throw them across the room. I see pictures of me with my parents, with Jenna, and with friends throughout the years. I grab them and throw them too. This isn’t my life. How can it be my life when I don’t own it? When someone can take it over at any second without me having any say?

“Christopher,” my mom says, her expression is horrified as she stands in the doorway, looking at me in the middle of my mess of a room. I’m about to be 28 years-old, and I still have a room in my parents’ house. I look at her, her face partially covered with her hands. My dad joins her soon after and takes a deep breath.

“Son, what’s wrong?” he asks cautiously as if he’s afraid to hear the answer. I let out an angry laugh.

“Dissociative-Identity-Disorder,” I say pointedly and watch their expression change from shocked to guilty.

“We can explain. Come, come downstairs so we can talk about this,” my dad says.

“What’s there to talk about? How fucked up my life is? That I’m sharing it with some asshole and you hid it from me?”

“Don’t use that language with us!” my dad says, seemingly offended.

“Why not, Dad? Is that too Cal-like?” I shout at them. He had no problem dropping f-bombs in the message he left me.

“Son, we know you’re upset,” my mom interjects.

“Upset, doesn’t explain this. My life has been a lie—I don’t have a life!”

“You have a life. You, you’re the real person. He’s…”

“Is that right? Because he has the wife? I’m pretty sure he has friends, and a house. He at least knew what was going on, and according to him, I’m ruining his life. He knows a hell of a lot more about everything than I do!” I shout, and there’s silence.

“How could you not tell me this was happening?” I say, my anger turning to exasperation.

“We thought we were protecting you. We didn’t want to burden you.”

“Huh, how do you think I’m feeling now?” I laugh with disdain.

“We’re so sorry, Christopher,” my mom says, tears falling from her eyes. She can save them now.

“We thought it would make things worse,” my dad says incidentally. Like hiding the fact that I have another person inside of me was trivial. Some sort of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

“How?! How could you think that was best? How could you think that me not knowing there’s this jerk-off running around, screwing people, and getting married was best for me?!” I ask, letting out a disbelieving laugh. They looked dumbfounded.

“You let me think that I was having blackouts and amnesia, a normal side effect of some made-up neurological disorder. How could you do this to me?” I say louder because it’s as if they aren’t hearing me.

“We were going to tell you,” My dad finally answers.

“When? Because this has obviously been going on for years. Why now? Oh, because I could possibly get arrested for being a polygamist?” I shout.

“That’s enough!” my father says, authority dripping from his voice. My chest is heaving, but I try to calm down; seeing the tears covering my mom’s face and hearing her soft whimpers from her covered mouth breaks my heart.

“Don’t you dare think for a minute this has been easy for us. You don’t think we wanted to tell you? You don’t think we wanted this guy to disappear? Trust me he’s not any fun to deal with! The day we met him was one of the worst days of our lives,” my dad says, his voice stern but yielding.

“Not telling you was one of the most difficult decisions we have ever made. We thought we were doing what was best for you. Clearly we see that we were wrong now,” he continues.

“You have to know we didn’t do this to hurt or deliberately deceive you. You have to know that, Chris. We thought that it would be easier for you not to know, until we knew you were in a good place to deal with this. We didn't know what would happen if we told you...” my mom explains timidly.

“We couldn't see what good would come from telling you,” my dad interjects.

“The doctors pretty much told us that there was no cure for this. Intensive therapy could make you one with this guy. Trust me he isn’t anyone you need to be ‘one’ with. Why tell you this if there was nothing we could do about it? It was just going to make you worried and stressed out of your mind,” my dad says defensively.

“When you came back after my diagnosis, we were going to tell you. By that time, we knew about Lauren and saw that Cal was doing things that would eventually affect you,” my mom sighs.

“But you were being so strong for me while I was sick. It seemed like too much. As time went on, things got better for both of us, we thought. We hoped that maybe there wasn’t a problem anymore,” my mom says, her voice returning to normal.

“Everything has been going so well. We were selfish to revel in the normalcy of life.” my dad says.

“When you told us yesterday that you were marrying Jenna, we knew we had to say something. We were just trying to figure out the best way,” my mom adds.

I let out a deep breath and hold my head. I know that they didn’t have evil intentions. I know all of this time they’ve had to be going through hell too. I sit down on my bed and rest my head in my hands.

“What do I do? Where do I go from here?” I ask the people who helped me make every major decision in my life. My mom lets out a deep sigh.

“Th—there’s something else we have to tell you son,” my mom says reluctantly.

***

“You need another one of these.” Lisa pours another shot of vodka in my glass, and I down it before finishing the rest of story. The room hasn’t started spinning yet, but my head is.

“Right. When I thought things couldn't get any worse, they tell me not only did this jerk-off marry someone, but he got her pregnant too, which makes me the father.” I laugh, staring at the empty glass. I don’t usually drink much, but before telling her this story, I told her to pull out the bottle first. Her eyes are wider than they’ve been since I started the story of my life over the past twenty-four hours.

“Whoa, I was going to say this was your last shot, but I think whiskey is in order.” She disappears behind the bar. She replaces my empty glass with the brown liquid from her bottle; it’s the kind my dad pulls out on special occasions... I lift my glass feeling a wide goofy smile on my face.

“To me being a father!” I say sarcastically, and she bursts into laughter.

“You are the father!” she says with fake enthusiasm. We laugh, clinking our glasses together. The good thing about alcohol is everything that sucks in your life seems hilarious. The sting of the whiskey burns five times worse than the vodka. I usually only have a beer or two, but with each drink, it’s as if each problem I picked up today disappears.

“I wish...I could have been there to see the look on Jenna’s face when your wife showed up,” she says with a giggle. I shake my head. I wish they got along better since she’s my best friend and all, but that’s the least of my problems now.

“She’s not my wife...I think?” I defend myself.

“Technically you and this Cal guy are the same person,” she whispers as if she’s telling me a secret.

“So that makes her your wife.” She slaps me on the shoulder. I frown at her.

“The good thing, though, is tomorrow you’re going to be way too hung over to care about any of this.” She cackles, and it’s suddenly as if my body weighs a thousand pounds. I was sitting upright on the couch but now I’m either lying down or the room has turned sideways.

“What about after tomorrow.” I hear myself starting to slur.

“Ask sober Lisa. Druunk Lisa is going to bed.” She giggles as she shifts off the couch. She makes her way to turn off the light before she stumbles to her room. I turn myself on my back and watch the ceiling fan turn. It’s spinning so fast, and I could have sworn it was brown but now it’s black. I look around, and I’m not on Lisa’s couch anymore but in this huge bed with black sheets.  It’s daylight, and sun is shining in on my face. I stretch my arms outward and feel warm skin. I look down and see it’s on a thigh that’s barely covered with the sheet.  My eyes trail up the body, and I freeze when I see the girl’s face from earlier. Her eyes are still closed but her pink, plump lips curve into a seductive smile.

“Stay with me,” she purrs in my ear, her hand trailing up my naked leg. Oh shit! I try to move but I’m stuck. Her eyes are still closed but now she’s climbed on top of me.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” she purrs in my ear, she smells so good, and she’s starting to kiss my neck as her hand grabs my...

“Christopher, get up!” My eyes open, and my dad is standing next to the sofa where I vaguely remember falling asleep. Was I just dreaming? It seemed more real than any dream I ever had. I can still feel her lips on me, the smell of her hair, how warm her skin was. I start to sit up but it’s as if gravity wants my head right here on the sofa. Ugh, my stomach feels like I’m on a roller coaster.

“You think getting drunk is going to solve your problems?” My dad’s voice is loud and feels like a hammer to my head. He puts his arm around me, pulling my weight up so I’m now in a sitting position

“Where am I?” I ask, unsure. I honestly have no idea until I recognize that ugly blanket Lisa made in high school and realize I’m still at her house

“Ugh, my head.” I groan. My dad forces a cup of coffee into my hand.

“This, what you’re doing, is not going to be your answer,” my dad says gruffly. I lift the cup to my mouth, but before I can even drink it, the smell makes my stomach churn, and I set it down.

“We’re in a bad situation. Is it the end of the world? No? But if you become a self-pitying drunk it will be,” he says sharply, “and whether we like it or not, you’re a father now so we’re going to have to figure this thing out with this woman. Sooner rather than later.”

He can’t think I’m in any condition to talk to him about the state or plan for my life now.

“I just want to sleep,” I mumble, putting the coffee down on the floor, and I lie back down on the couch.

“I’m not sure what your plan is, but if you’re still engaged to Jenna or plan on being, I suggest you get up and come home. I’m sure she won’t be happy that you’re here of all places, and you probably haven’t called her since I found your phone in the dirt in our yard,” he warns.

Jenna.

Her name makes me sit up.

I’ve told her a thousand times Lisa and I are just friends, and have been since kindergarten, but she says as long as she has breasts and a vagina she’ll never trust her.

It takes a minute, but with my dad’s help, I make it out of Lisa’s house, into the truck, and back home to my bed. I ignored the disapproving lecture he gave me all the way home. I think I deserved a night like last night after all I’ve gone through.

My mom must’ve agreed since she cleaned my room and tucked me in like I was twelve then brought me ibuprofen, after I managed to hold down a piece of toast. My bed is much better than Lisa’s couch

***

I wake up, still in my room but the sky’s dark. The birds are already making noise so it must be early morning. I sit up and see the clock on my desk says that its 5:11 am. I must have slept straight through yesterday. I feel a lot better.  My stomach is empty, growling, and the smell of bacon coming from down stairs has coaxed me out of my sleep. The splitting pain in my head is gone now, just a dull ache replacing it.

I pick out a t-shirt, jeans, and boxers and make my way to the shower and wash the stink of vomit and whiskey off me.

I haven’t talked to Jenna at all. I told her I’d call her after I talked to my parents, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I don’t know what to tell her. I don’t know where we go from here.

I needed a day off from feeling and thinking. But now it just seems like a day wasted. I was sort of prepared to confirm that she was right. To explain to her that what I have is an actual condition and not some made up crap. Knowing her though, she’s figured everything out. She may have possibly been willing to stay with me; it wasn’t like I couldn’t get a divorce, which I’m not even sure this marriage is even legitimate. I’m sure the girl…Lauren. I have to stop calling her the girl.  She’s not some random woman after all…Lauren would’ve agreed to sever ties after realizing I’m not the man she loves.

But a kid, knowing that I have a child with someone else...that’s something I don’t think Jenna will accept and I can’t blame her. I’d just like to hold on the memory of me being happily engaged to the woman I chose and thinking what our kids would look like a little longer.

Well, there wouldn’t have been any kids until she finished law school, passed the bar, and established herself within a firm... but that’s irrelevant now. After I brush my teeth and throw on my clothes, I head to the kitchen. My stomach already craving the bacon and eggs my mom is frying up. She glances back at me as I sit down at the table. She already has a plate fixed for me. She sits down at the table across from me and pours orange juice in our glasses. I start to dig into my plate and she clears her throat. I roll my eyes as she takes my hand.

“Lord, we thank you for this food you blessed us to receive, and for our bodies to be healthy enough to receive it. Amen,” she says, and I grunt an Amen before shoving a spoonful of eggs in my mouth. I’m trying to count the few things to be thankful for this morning, but as of right now I’m not in a thankful mood.

Someone’s screwed up my life, and if God planned my life like this, I’m pretty pissed at him right now. But since my mom is still here when she came so close to being gone I won't voice that opinion to her.

“Is Dad out back already?” I ask, noticing she’s set no plate for him.

She nods. “He wanted an early start,” she says after finishing her juice.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, and I’m not sure if she’s referring to my mental state or the hangover from yesterday. I glance up at her a second before my eyes land back on my plate.

“I don’t know,” I admit honestly. Today, I’m kind of numb. I don’t how to feel or think, but it’s better than being furious or hopeless, so I’ll take it.

“Lauren is going to come here tomorrow,” she says quietly, her voice normal though the statement is anything but. I let out a deep breath.

“Yeah?” I say, feeling as if I’m in a daze. Lauren, my wife, Cal’s wife. At this point, whose wife she is doesn’t matter since it’s both, or one of our DNA’s in the kid. My mom gets up from the table, opens the drawer, and then sits back down.

“I didn’t get a chance to show you this. You left so abruptly that day,” she says, sliding a picture across the table. Her lips are pressed tightly together but curved in a smile. I pick up the picture and let out a deep sigh. It’s a little girl, maybe a year old, if that. She has big green eyes and dark curly hair all over her head. Two deep dimples. I involuntarily let out a sigh. She looks just like my baby pictures only she’s a girl.

“She’s beautiful isn’t she?” my mom says, not hiding her smile any longer.

Wow. I really have a daughter, and she looks just like me. I never thought my first time seeing my child would be in a picture when they’ve been in the world a...I don’t even know how old she is.

“What’s her name?” I ask, resting my forehead in my hand.

“Caylen,” she says quietly. I let out a huff. “She named her after him didn’t she?” I say with an angry laugh.

“I—I know this isn’t the best situation, and we never imagined things happening this way for you, but this doesn’t have to be all bad,” my mom says, grabbing my hand and squeezing it. I shake my head.

“I—I’ve missed her first birthday, first word, and first steps. I don’t even know how old she is,” I say, the weight of knowing that I have a part of me in this world being added to a boat load of stress that’s overflowing...

“We missed yours too, but that doesn’t make us love you any less. If we’d been there, would that make you love us any more?” she asks with a sincere smile. She’s right. Things could be a lot worse. I have to stop feeling sorry for myself; whether I like it or not, I’m a...I’m a dad. I’ve always wanted kids. I grew up the only child, and if it wasn’t for Lisa, it would have been pretty lonely.

If it was up to me I’d have enough kids to start a little league. Jenna made it clear that wasn’t happening, whenever we did start a family. She doesn’t really want kids but said she’d have one for me. Now she’s probably not going to speak to me again, let alone, have my child. I can’t see any woman taking me seriously with something like this. Hi, my name is Chris, and I might turn into a jerk-off any minute, literally. So, this is probably the only kid I’ll ever have.

“Is she going to bring her...Caylen with her tomorrow?” I correct myself.

“No. I believe she’s back in Chicago,” my mom says, taking a drink of her coffee. Chicago...That’s at least a three to four hour drive. I’ve only been there...or remember being there for a trip during high school. I let out a sigh, how am I supposed to be a parent four hours away?

“How much do you know about her?” I ask.

“Well. Not much, Christopher. Dexter told us she graduated from Chicago University a few years ago and that she was an artist, I’m not sure what kind. She’s originally from Michigan.” She sighs and folds her hands.

“He told us that she was a good person.” Dexter’s definition of a good person doesn’t hold much weight with me.

“He also said that…that Cal really loved her.” Her eyes briefly find mine before glancing at the table. Loved her? He didn’t love her enough to tell her the truth...but my parents didn’t tell me the truth either.

I let out another deep sigh. She’s coming here and I don’t even want to think about what she’s going to say to me. I have this guy’s face that abandoned her, that left her with a kid. But even with all that, she looked at me with anything but resentment or hatred…well, that is until I told her I didn’t know who she was.

You can’t get married. You already are...

I fold my hands together. It’s more like I’ve been sitting on them. Today I need to start to figure this out, with Jenna and Lauren. The woman who should or would have been my wife, who can’t know because I’m married to a woman I have a child with—a woman, I didn’t even know existed before this week.

“What do I tell Jenna, Mom? How do I tell her this?” I look at the little girl in the picture again, trying to get my brain to connect that this is my daughter.

“You can only tell her the truth and hope that she understands,” my mom says weakly as if even she doesn’t believe Jenna will understand this.

“And Lauren...I don’t know what she wants from me.” I trail off.

“Will she understand that?” I sigh. I don’t even know what I expect her to understand...that I’m not the guy that married her and knocked her up. But I am. I’m still trying to wrap my head around this.

My mom shakes her head. “I’m sure this is going to be difficult for her, but she led me to believe at least that this is about Caylen. She hasn’t had a lot of time to digest much of this, but maybe enough to try to understand that you aren’t the man she fell in love with.” My mom’s tone is hopeful. I’m not as optimistic.

Love. She loved him.  I hate to hear that word in the same sentence as him. It makes him real, and he doesn’t deserve the recognition. If I’m going to figure this out or make sure the direction of my life isn’t going straight into the ground, I need to start doing something.

“Do you know where she is? Lauren?” I ask.

“I told her about the Ritter Inn...” my mom says, grabbing our finished plates from the table.

“Actually, Rose confirmed that she checked in after she left,” my mom admits.

“I’ll be back to help Dad before noon,” I say, grabbing the keys to my truck off the table.

“Where are you going this early?”

“I’m going to try to catch Jenna before she heads to school,” I say, heading out.

“Chris. Would you like me to call and schedule with Dr. Lyce?” my mom asks hesitantly.

“I’ll be finding a new doctor,” I tell her before leaving out. My parents lied. I have to forgive them. Dexter lied. I expect that from him. But my doctor? Any doctor that would keep something like that from me, I never want to deal with ever again.

“Good luck, son,” my mom says before I get in my truck. I’m going to need it.

Chapter 4

I pull up to Jenna’s house, and she’s already heading out the door, her big leather bag stuffed to the brim with her laptop, books, and notepad. Her hair pulled up in a tight bun and black shades covering her eyes. She drives all the way to University of Michigan, which is about two hours away. She said she’d rather lose a little sleep than money on room and board since the rent is a lot cheaper here in Madison. Her parents are loaded, but they wanted her to go to their alumni school. When she didn’t, they paid tuition but that was it.

I meet her at the bottom of the stairs; she adjusts her bag on her shoulder and wraps her arms around herself. I can’t see behind the black tint of her glasses, but I can tell she’s avoiding my eyes.

“Hey,” I say quietly. I see her biting her lips, the first clue that she’s pissed off, and she has every right to be. I haven’t called her since she’s been hit with a life-changing bomb less than 48 hours ago. My eyes drift down to her hand, and I’m a little relieved to see she’s still wearing her ring. Doesn’t matter, she’ll probably throw it at me after I tell her what I have to.

“You didn’t call me. You said you’d call after you talked to your parents,” she says just as quietly.

“I know. I messed up,” I say, folding my arms across my chest.

“I didn’t hear from you that night or the day afterwards. And now you just show up on my steps...?” she asks with a shrug.

“I broke my phone. I got completely tanked that night, and slept all through yesterday,” I admit. I know I sound like an idiot, but I don’t want to lie to her. After all of this, she doesn’t deserve that. I hear her take a deep breath.

“Wow. So you’re drinking enough to sleep an entire day when you usually barely have a beer, and you don’t answer your phone or call me when you say you are. On top of all that, you leave me in the dark after possibly finding out some pretty life-changing information. Yet, I’m the last to know.  I’m your fiancée, Chris! I should be the first to know!” I feel like a complete A-hole.

“I’m really sorry, Jenna,” I say dumbly because I sound dumb.

“You’ve been really sorry, Chris. But you being sorry doesn’t help any of this! So what happened, what did your parents say?” she fires off rapidly.

I let out a sigh,and run my hand through my hair.

“D.I.D. That’s what it is, right?” she answers before I can even respond, and I nod.

That’s Jenna. Always a step ahead. I bet she won’t guess what I have to tell her next though.

“So that woman, Lauren, she’s your wife,” she says with a laugh.

“Well, she’s Cal’s. Cal is the one that married her,” I say, trying to distance myself from the decision as much as possible. She snatches off her glasses, and her glare makes me want to hide.

“So you’re not going to take responsibility for any of this?” she demands.

“'I’m not shirking responsibility. I just want you to understand. Cal. Cal married her. I have no idea who she is. I love you. I want to marry you!”

She’s quiet. I don’t know which is worse, her yelling or her silence.

I step closer to her, and she steps back. I’m losing her. I can feel it, and I haven’t even told her I have a kid yet.

“I’m trying to understand. I really, really am. I spent hours online researching this. I even stumbled upon this support group online for people with your condition.” Her eyes are watery.

“This is just so...” she sighs.

“I know that this isn’t your fault and not something you asked for, but I’m having a pretty hard time wrapping my mind around this,” she says and clears her throat.

“I know. Just imagine how I feel.” I chuckle, and she smiles tightly.

“If this is too much, Jenna…I wouldn’t blame you if this is too much,” I say, sitting down on her porch.

“Chris, if this was anyone else I wouldn’t believe them. But it’s you. You’re one of the most caring, unselfish, honest people I know,” she says, sitting next to me.

“Even though you can be a big baby sometimes,” she chuckles, and I do too...baby. Ugh. I glance over at her, her shades now back on.

“I’m going down to school early to study for my exam tomorrow,”she says. “I was going to stay the night with Kaylie, but I can come back instead,” she continues, and I rub the back of my neck.

How do I say this? I have to tell her. I can’t hide this from her. What’s the best way to say it? I know she wouldn’t want a long drawn-out speech. She’s standing up, I do the same. She wraps her arms around me, what do I say? I lift her up by the waist and hold her close, like it’s the last time. I’m 90 percent sure this will be the last time I’ll ever get to hold her like this.

“Chris, we’re going to make this work. We’re going to find you the best doctors and support groups, and we’ll get through this. At least we know now what we’re dealing with. This marriage can’t be legal,” she says confidently. I set her down, and she cups my face in her hands. This is why I love her. She’s able to pull me out of my pity party.

When I met Jenna, it was on the way from a visit with my mom’s doctor, and the news wasn’t good. Everyone had been coddling and walking on egg shells around me with everything thing that was going on. Even Lisa couldn’t break through, but Jenna was able to. I look away from her, and I just let it spill out.

“Lauren. She has…” Her eyebrows raise. I know the next sentence out of my mouth is going to change everything.

“She has a daughter.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, her eyes widen and mouth falls open. Her expression is blank, completely blank, but she releases my face from her hands and steps back.

“What?” she asks, and her voice breaks. “No.” She covers her face, her expression crumbling.

“Is…is she yours?” she asks me,her voice stabling. I look away from her. “Oh. I’m sorry! Is she Cal’s?” she says, using air quotes.

“I’m sorry.” I know it doesn’t help, but I am. It’s the only thing I know to say to her.

“Of course you are,” she says, nodding her head.

“But I can’t be mad at you, right? Because it wasn’t you or it was you!” She starts to laugh but tears are streaming down her face.

“I—I just can’t deal with this right now.” She covers her face and begins shaking her hand. “I’ve got to go.” She walks past me towards her car.

“Jenna, talk to me!” I grab her wrist, and she snatches it away. In an instant, her right hand finds the side of my face. The sting of the slap doesn’t even distract me from the hurt in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she says immediately afterwards.

“I need time. Just give me some time,” she says, her gaze locked with mine for only a second before she turns away from me, gets in her car, and speeds away.

Chapter 5

The meeting with Jenna was an absolute disaster. Granted, I should have had something more to say than, “Hey, the girl you met earlier has a kid, and chances are, it’s mine,” or something like that.

Something profound and meaningful, but that’s never really been my thing. I try to be honest no matter how much it hurts in the least hurtful way possible, if that makes any sense. Still, I could have done more than stand there looking like an idiot and blurt it out like that. I should be thankful. It could have been worse. She still has the ring and hasn’t officially ended our engagement. She’s asked for time, but time isn’t a luxury that I’ve had much of, most of it disappears in seconds.

I wish I had more time to figure this out, but it just keeps ticking by, second by second, and after yesterday I’ve decided I won’t waste it anymore without getting things done, making things right, or at least trying to. As much as I want to block the thought out of my mind that my body is shared with a person who can show up without a moment’s notice and screw me royally, I can’t. The faster I can get things in order, the less damage I can make sure he does.

I get to do all of his damage control. I have to, and that’s what pisses me off. Things can work out, at least I know. Not knowing was the worst part and as scary as it is, today I don’t seem so out of control like I did when I first found out. I’ve faced some stressful issues to say the least, but my headaches haven’t made an appearance once, and I’m keeping track of time. I don’t know where I stand with Jenna, but now she knows the truth. All I have left to do now is face Lauren.

I thought I’d be more nervous about telling Jenna that I had a child than meeting her, but standing outside of her hotel room right now, I know I was wrong big time. My palms are sweaty, my heart’s beating too fast, and my stomach feels like it’s in a canoe on the ocean. With Jenna, I know what to expect. She goes from stoic to flying off the handle in seconds. Lauren, I know nothing about and the fact she knows me as this man, one whose ass I want to kick, doesn’t help.

I’ve started to knock on the door several times, but I haven’t managed to do it. I have no clue what she’s going to do when she opens the door. If she’s going to slap me, hug me, or kick me in the balls. I know my parents told her about my condition, but who’s to say if she believes it. My parents did lie to her and left her in the dark. She’s the one person who was screwed over more than me in all this, and she’s had a kid to deal with in the midst of everything. Then the fact that she knows me as him. I move my fist to the door one more time, and this time manage to knock. I hear the TV on and then footsteps approach the door. I stuff my hands in my jean pockets. Whatever she does or says, I deserve it. Cal’s not here to deal with her wrath so just like everything else, I will. Hopefully when she’s done, we can try to come up with some way to make this work out for her. For our daughter.

“I don’t need...” she says as the door swings open. She definitely isn’t expecting me, and the expression on her face shows it once she sees me. Her eyes are wide and her mouth has fallen open. She’s not moving, like she’s frozen except her hand on the door knob. It’s shaking.

“Hi,” I say quietly, forcing sound out of my throat. It’s dry as a dessert. My words wake her from her frozen state because she’s slammed the door right in my face. I scratch my head. I didn’t expect that.

“I’m sorry for coming like this. I—I just thought… I can come back later when you’re ready.” My voice is shaky and nervous. I shouldn’t have surprised her like this. I’ll wait for her to come when she’s ready. I turn around to leave when I hear the door open.

“No!” she says frantically. She gives me a nervous smile, moving her hair out of her face. I approach her slowly. The sun is bright, shining through the hallway window causing her hazel eyes to sparkle. She looks tired, her eyelids puffy, but she’s still beautiful. The kind of beautiful that makes you intimidated. At least she’s about a foot shorter than me. I can have an excuse to stare over her head instead of at her.

“My parents said you were coming tomorrow but… I thought we… I wanted to talk to you alone if it’s okay?” I say, bumbling like an idiot. She looks at me curiously. She opens her mouth as if she’s going to say something, but doesn’t. Instead she steps back and gestures for me to come in. I stuff my hands in my jeans as I walk into the hotel room. There’s a bed, a TV, sofa, and a mini fridge. Tissues are scattered on the nightstand, a glass of water next to the tissues. She closes the door and walks over to the sofa but doesn’t sit. She’s looking at the ground, as she folds her arms across her chest. This is a good start, I guess. She hasn’t hit me or started yelling. She’s shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She’s just as nervous as I am.

“I don’t really know what to say to you, or where to start,” I admit, as her eyes meet mine. I look at the woman who some part of me loved enough to marry. She’s biting her bottom lip, showcasing the small dimple in her right cheek. Her glare is intense in the few seconds it’s on me, like she’s trying to see through me, and I look away.

Does she believe all of this? When she looks into my eyes I know she’s searching for him. I know because I was doing the same thing standing in the mirror this morning.

“Uhm,”she says, her voice trembling. I still haven’t learned to have a plan or something to say. All I’ve done in the first few minutes of being here is make her cry. I’ve never made so many women cry before.

“I don’t know what to say to you either, to be honest,” she says, her voice unsteady as she wipes away a tear from her cheek.

“Your parents told you everything?” she asks hesitantly. She must really think I’m an idiot for all this time to have passed and I never figured anything out, but I guess it’s better for her to think I’m an idiot than a lying jerk.

“They told me that they’d been lying to me all of this time. That when I didn’t remember things, another person—that they felt they should keep from me—was living my life for me. Everyone I know and trust has been lying to me. My parents, my so-called doctor… I should have known something was wrong.” It’s not until the words are out of my mouth that I realize how biter I sound, but it feels good to get it out.

“The people I trusted most lied to me,” I say quietly to myself, hearing it out loud is almost cathartic. She’s quiet but I notice her eyes surveying me again. I wonder what it’s like to look at someone you know and they not recognize you at all.

“You can’t blame yourself… It’s human nature to want to believe things are always good. When I talked to your parents, they thought they were doing what was best for you. Your interest was the only one they were looking out for.”

I look down at her. She’s wringing her hands together, and I can only imagine how hard this is for her. Still, after everything she’s gone through, she says something like that.

“I didn’t expect for you to defend them. Especially after… they lied to you too.”

“I’m not defending them. What they did was wrong. It hurt a lot people. But I don’t think they did it to be malicious or cruel. They thought they were protecting you. As a parent you’d do anything to protect your child from what you believe could hurt them. If I was in their situation, and I believed that I could keep you safe by lying to you, I would have.”

I remember the main reason I’m here and reach into my pocket to pull out the picture of our daughter. Wow, that’s going to take some getting used to. I walk towards her, and her eyes widen. I hear her breathing and notice her hand is squeezing her wrist like some type of de-stress technique. I need to get one of those ASAP.

She takes a step back from me, and I realize it’s probably best if I just show her the picture. After all, I’m some strange guy she doesn’t know in her hotel room...sort of.

“My mom said…” I try to think of what would be the least awkward way to say this. I’m her father, she’s my daughter, our kid?

“Caylen,” she interject softly and touches the face on the picture.

“You named her after him… after Cal?” I’m hesitant to say his name to her like it’ll set off some type of alarm and send her into some kind of frenzy like she was in the other day. Her vibe now is totally different. Calm considering the circumstance, she’s not in no holds barred screaming mode. She nods as I take a seat on the sofa.

“How old is she?” I ask, with a sigh that I didn’t intend.

“She just had her first birthday three days ago,” she says, sitting on the edge of the sofa. I never stopped to think she’s been doing this alone. Other than the one I had two days ago, I haven’t had a blackout in almost two years, which means he hasn’t been around. He missed everything too.

I turn towards her. “You’ve been raising her alone?” I ask, and she rubs her palm against her thighs.

“No. My aunt and friends have been there since the beginning to help me with her. She doesn’t lack anything,” she explains.

“But a father,” I say quietly. If we share the same genes, God, she could have to deal with something like this. “She doesn’t do anything strange?” I ask, and she looks confused.

“Like what?” she asks, a hint of sharpness in her voice.

“In general?” I say hesitantly; she’s not getting what I’m hinting at.

“Caylen isn’t strange!” her voice is definitely sharp now.

“No, I didn’t mean that. I just wanted to make sure she was okay.” I’m backtracking from insinuating her daughter...our daughter is crazy like good ol’ dad.

“She’s been okay an entire year of her life without you making sure she was okay. I’ve made sure she’s okay!” This is going bad. I didn’t mean to insult how she’s raised her. Well, I don’t know how she’s raising her, actually.

“I didn’t mean anything by it. I—I don’t know what I meant.” I stand up and offer her the picture; her angry demeanor changes.

“I’m sorry. I overreacted. I’m—I’m just not used to this. All of this…it’s all—” She stutters nervously.

“No, it was my fault. I was out of line. I shouldn’t have asked such a stupid question.” I stop her and she gives me a small smile, her one dimple makes another appearance. I look back at the picture of Caylen. She looks like me, but she has her mom’s dimples and nose. It’s amazing how a little human being can look like a combination of two people. I don’t remember my biological mother or father so I’m not sure who I look like. I sit back down on the sofa, and a moment later, she’s beside me, the obligatory few inches between us.

“She has your eyes. They turn like yours do.” Her voice is soft but now steady. Her eyes find mine, and for a moment, she’s smiling, a barely-there smile but still a smile.

Stay with me.

It’s like a whisper in my ear.

The image of her from my dream the other night invades my thoughts. I shake it from my mind. I haven’t thought about it since, but it’s decided to announce itself right here, while she’s on the verge of crying, and I’m whining like a little boy. Get a grip, Chris.

“I—I mean I…” She stutters, and her skin flushes a slight shade of pink. It causes me to smile. She really is beautiful… I turn my attention back to the picture in my hand. She’s still looking at me, and it’s scary because it makes me nervous, worried, and excited all at the same time. I don’t know her, but something about her evokes these emotions that I can’t deal with right now. They probably aren’t mine to deal with. The only thing that makes it feel like I’m not going to cave in is to talk, so I do.

“How are we supposed to deal with this?” I ask quietly. Thankfully my voice doesn’t give away the energy flowing around inside me like a tornado.

“I—I don’t know how to deal with this…” I say, wringing my hands together. I let out a sigh and stand.

“You don’t know anything about me. I don’t know anything about you. And this Cal guy…” I cover my face. I need to run or hit something…these words are coming up and spilling out of me involuntarily, but the more I speak the more the energy is released so I continue.

“I mean…I have a daughter I don’t even remember…” I laugh angrily, but I continue. “Years of my life! All of these things happened, and I don’t remember any of it. No one bothered to tell me. What am I supposed to do with this?” I’m pacing the room now, and I want to stop and sit down and ask her how she’s dealing with this. I sound like a little brat but talking is the only thing that makes me not want to explode.  I’m just trying to express my frustration but instead, I come off sounding like a selfish jerk. “I’m trying. I really am… I thought if I could make the first step in talking to you that I could do it, but…” She must think I’m a lunatic.  But, when my eyes find hers, her expression is soft and compassionate. It’s as if she feels sorry for me. All that she’s been through, and she’s sorry for me?

“I know this is hard for you. I can’t begin to imagine what you’re going through right now,” she says, her tone soft and comforting, and for a minute, I want to hug her. As if hugging her will make everything okay. But I can’t, so I don’t. That would be selfish and would send her the wrong message because when she looks at me...

“I don’t know anything about you!” After the words leave my mouth, I realize how harsh they sound but whatever I can’t stop myself from saying exactly what comes to my mind. Her eyes are on mine, and instead of looking away from them, I look into them. It’s not hard to do; they’re magnetic and alluring. But more than that, they’re like open windows, I can see straight through to her soul. Even though she has a small smile on her face, I can see her pain, her hurt, and her hope.  That’s the scariest of all because her hope is my demise. She doesn’t know me or love me, so her hope isn’t with me—it’s with Cal.

“But when you look at me, it’s as if you know everything about me,” I say. She lets out a light breath. The nervous energy in me seems to be gone. I look away from her and at my hands. Hands that have done things... I have enough trouble with one life. How am I supposed to deal with one I don’t know anything about? One that…that isn’t really mine?

“When your parents told me about you…” Her voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever experienced—the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to listen to.”  Her hazel eyes glaze over, water covering them.

“I was hurt and confused. I didn’t even believe them… I didn’t want to believe them. I’m still hurt. I’m still confused. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say to…” she trails off, her voice breaking. She looks down at her feet and continues, “To you.” She pauses, and I feel like my heart is on the verge of stopping.

“I can’t compromise with someone I don’t know either.” She shrugs and smiles even though tears are falling from her eyes. Then she looks up at me, and the smile leaves her face.

“When you look at me… it’s as if I’m a burden…a problem, and you have no idea how much that hurts, “she says, her voice shaky, and I feel like the biggest ass in the world. I’ve never wanted more in my life to be able to say something to make all of this better but I know whatever I say will probably make things worse.

“I don’t blame you for it,” she adds quickly. She should.

“I can’t…but you have to understand that you have Cal’s…” she drifts off and chuckles through her tears. “You… You have his smile, his voice, his eyes…when I look at you… I can’t help but see him. And it hurts knowing that you weren’t the one who stole my heart when you first smiled at me, who took me bungee jumping on our first date. That you weren’t the one who told me I’m the only woman you have ever loved. But you’re…you’re not him, and you’re in love with someone else.” It’s the first time I’ve heard someone speak about this guy without using jerk, asshole, or problem in the same sentence. For the first time it hits me that she really experienced things with him; they had a life together...

“So, I’m sort of having a hard time with this,” she continues, chuckling as she wipes away the tears on her cheek.

“Even knowing all of it, I don’t, how I’m supposed to get past it,” she explains.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to deal with this… if I even can, but I’m willing to try because of that little girl in that picture. I’d do anything for her, including giving up the only person I’ve ever been in love with…”

That’s when I realize: she’s somehow come to terms with this, and I feel like a load of bricks have been removed from my brain.

But then she starts to cry. I can tell she’s trying to be strong but it’s like whoever just took the bricks of my brain just fastened them to her heart. “I—I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.”

She walks towards me and takes a deep breath. She looks at me almost as if she’s trying to see me for a new person. Tears are still pouring from her eyes. I search my pockets and find a napkin, offering it to her. She takes it and wipes her eyes.

“I know that this isn’t your fault. And I know that you want to believe none of this is your problem, but it is, and it’s mine too…But it’s not Caylen’s. I’m willing to accept that you’re not Cal, that you aren’t my husband. I can learn to do that. But I can’t relieve you of being Caylen’s father. You’re part of her.” Her voice is shaky but stern, and the look in her eyes lets me know she means business. “That’s all I’m really sure about. That’s all that I can think of to say to you,” she says with a sigh and takes a seat on the sofa.

Wow, what is with this girl? She seems fragile yet so undeniably strong. How the hell did a guy like him make a girl like this fall in love with him? I walk over to the sofa and sit down in the same spot I was in before, the prerequisite inches between. I look over at her and remember Cal’s message.

“My parents say that he’s…they describe him like…” I’m trying to think of a way to describe him without offending her, but I’m coming up blank

“Oh I know, your father didn’t hesitate to tell me what he thought of Cal,” she replies.

Good old dad. “Is he…? Was he…?” I ask hesitantly. I’ve never hated anyone before but I can imagine this is what I feel towards him for what he’s done to my life, my relationships. His disregard of the beliefs and values my family taught me to hold dear makes my skin crawl. That monster—he’s inside of me.

“The person your parents describe isn’t who Cal was to me. Don’t get me wrong, he could be arrogant, mean, and snide… a lot,” she sighs. Arrogant, mean, and snide, that's my first impression of him.

“He’s so much more than that,” she continues. “He could be kind…caring…protective,” she adds, and I feel my eyebrow rise. I don’t see how a guy who ruined my life could be kind, caring, or protective, but I try not to let my expression show my disbelief.

“He’s extremely intelligent, confident, and persuasive. He could talk anyone into doing what he wanted. He was handsome, incredibly sexy…” I try to hide the smile growing on my face. I know she’s technically not referring to me, but well, the one thing we have in common is the same face…

Chapter 6

The meeting with Lauren went better than I expected. I don’t know what I expected, really. But it could have gone worse. Way worse. It’s too weird thinking about how a part of me had this whole life with another person. That’s something I haven’t been able to grasp.

At least she seems nice. I wasn’t there long, but it went better than our first meeting. Then again, it couldn’t have gone any worse than that. I’ve gained a lot respect for her. She was able to hold it together, aside from the crying, but I can’t blame her for that. I can’t imagine being in her place. My own place is screwed up enough. I feel lighter, though.  Like the heaviness that was once on me is gone. I know things are far from fixed, but knowing that Lauren isn’t a screaming psycho and she recognizes me or at least is trying to recognize me for who I am, helps a lot.

My first instinct was to call Jenna and tell her that this isn’t going to be some awkward love triangle, and that Lauren and I are more concerned with being parents to this little girl. But I know she’s still fuming, and I can’t blame her.

I pass most of the day silently doing chores around the farm with my dad. He hasn’t said much, and I don’t have much to say to him either. My mom cooked dinner: homemade macaroni, fried chicken, and green beans. I grabbed a plate and headed to my room. It’s the first time I can remember since I’ve been home that we haven’t eaten dinner together.

I’m not mad at them. Well, I’m trying not to be, but to sit down and act like everything is fine and nothing has changed would be a sham. The next time we have dinner together, I want to make sure I’m genuine. We’re all genuine and not putting up facades. I’ve had enough of that.  Today is a day I wish I was called in for work but there’re no classes to teach on a Sunday. After watching an old football game and showering, I ended up where I am now, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. I never minded being alone before all this, just with my own thoughts.

Now I don’t feel like I’m alone. I don’t know how this DID works, but it’s almost like trying to hide what I’m thinking from myself. This Cal guy kept so much from me, and I wish I could hide everything that’s going on from him. I don’t know what he knows or sees or wherever he is, but I don’t feel alone. How can I?

I thought about talking to him when I stood in front of the mirror brushing my teeth this morning, but I felt like an idiot. And I don’t want to do much talking. Punching him in the face would make me feel better, except that it’s my face. It’d also be hypocritical, considering I always tell the kids I work with that violence is never the answer. It never has been with me. My parents always stressed how important it is to use my words, especially my mom. But just in case that didn’t work, my dad started teaching me how to box when I was seven. I even did Golden Glove while I was in middle school, until football caught more of my interest. I was good enough to have a couple of schools offer me scholarships until my condition started to interfere with things my senior year.

Well I don’t have to say condition now. DID. Now, I know it was Cal who started to appear and screw everything up. When I think back to each time I blacked out, really believing that I was unconscious or just forgetting what had happened to me during the lapses, I feel stupid.

I spend a couple hours reading through endless articles, none of which leads me to an answer that I want: how to get rid of this guy. The other irritating thing I found was that Dr. Lyce’s name continuously came up as one of the most respected in the field regarding the disorder. I can’t see her though, how can I? She lied to me, well she didn’t lie. Instead, she failed to tell me vital information. I didn’t see her much, only a few times. At least that I remember, but I know if she told me my diagnosis, that’s not something I’d easily forget.

I hear a song starting to play, and I sit up and look around the room. My radio and TV are both off. I turn and see my phone lighting up. I grab it and see it’s an alarm with a song I didn’t put on it. I hit the button to turn it off and sit it back down. I flop back onto my mattress, and it starts again. I pick it up and see its set to go off every three minutes for the next hour. I start to go through, canceling the alerts, and the song starts to play louder and louder and everything around me gets hazy.

When things come into focus, I’m outside.  There’re people all around, and the song is playing loud from my cell phone. But it’s not coming from there anymore; it’s coming from everywhere. The sky is dark but there’re bright lights shining from above me. I’m at some type of festival.

Then I see myself. I’m leaning against a building, one hand in my pocket. Another doing something on a phone. I’m dressed in a black t-shirt and dark washed jeans. I have on a watch that looks too expensive to be wearing to the place I’m in. On my arm is a big duffle bag. Something catches my attention, and I push off the building and start to walk through the crowd. And that’s when I know it’s not me. It’s him.

I can tell by the way he walks a slow, almost cocky, strut. He stuffs his phone in his pocket and quickens his pace. Then he stops and tiptoes behind a girl and grabs her by the waist, lifting her up in the air. When she turns around, I see its Lauren.  Her hair’s longer than it is now but those same wide hazel eyes sparkle for him.

“You scared the crap out of me!” she squeals playfully and pushes him in the chest. He tugs her towards him and pulls her into a slow passionate kiss—one that makes her stand on her toes.  Suddenly, I’ve gone from looking at her from afar, to being the one kissing her, feeling her soft lips before she pulls away. She wriggles against my chest and wraps her arms around me my waist.

“How was the bathroom?” I ask her, but it’s not my voice. Well, it is, but it’s different. The tone of this voice is deeper than I normally sound.

“Not as a disgusting as I thought it would be,” she teases. I take her hand, and we make our way through the crowd. We go through a ticket gate at the very front of what looks like a park. It’s a concert in the park. We find a spot, and I sit the duffle bag down. She pulls out a blanket, and I help her spread it out.

“It’s so beautiful out tonight,” she says excitedly with a smile so bright I feel my heart speed up. The sky is black, but stars are out, shining bright. The band on the stage is already playing. There’re hundreds of people out but enough room where everyone isn’t piled on top of each other. After we smooth out the blanket, I sit down my legs apart, resting my elbows on my knees. Lauren’s rummaging through the bag looking for something.

She finally pulls out another blanket, wraps herself in it, and rests her head on my shoulder. I wrap my arm around her, pull her between my legs, and kiss every inch of her neck. She looks back, giving me a playful warning glare but then kisses me softly. When she pulls away she shows me a smile that causes one to spread on my face.

She then crawls out of my embrace, and she’s back searching through the duffle bag. She pulls out a sketch pad and pencil. She draws through a couple of songs while I sing to the music. Songs I don’t even know, but I seem really excited about being here. When I look back at her sketch pad, I see she’s drawn me. It’s not completely finished yet, but done enough to where I can tell.

“You weren’t supposed to look,” she teases, her cheeks flushing, her hair falling in her face.  I pull her over towards me, and she settles between my legs again and rests her back on my stomach. I cross my arms over her waist, and she starts to sing along to the song playing. I lean down to her ear and kiss her right below her lobe. My heart starts to beat faster. My stomach is doing flips, and I’m not sure why. A second later, I take her hands in mine.

“I love you,” I whisper in her ear, and I feel her body stiffen. She looks back at me her eyes wide and a small smile on her face.

“I love you too, Cal,” she says before turning around and kissing me like no one else is around. Everything fades out around me and I’m back in my room this time.

Chapter 7

They don’t tell you about things like this on the websites. In the articles, they talk about symptoms, possible treatments. I’ve found a couple of online support groups, even a few that meet in person; although none are in my great state. But nothing I’ve read about so far in the limited time I’ve known about this tells you what to do when you start to remember. How to deal with these memories, or better yet how do I stop them. I thought I’d want to remember, to know, but now I don’t know if that’s the best thing. Of course it would be absolutely perfect timing. If I wasn’t nervous around her before I definitely am today. He did this, and it definitely wasn’t to be noble. He wanted to freak me out, and that’s exactly what he did.

Right when I start to feel a little comfortable in the predicament he’s gotten us in, he has to shake things up. That dream, vision, or memory—I don’t even know what to call what I saw. It was like reading someone’s diary or listening to their confessions. It felt too real, way too personal, and what’s worse, I don’t know if it was real or a dream.

The other was like little snippets I could ignore or pretend didn’t happen. But this was different, and I’m having a hard time shaking off. I want to know if it was real, really a memory, but the only way I’d know is to ask Lauren, and I’m not diving into those waters. I bet he’d love for me to stroll down memory lane with her. Keep him alive in her memory. That’s the last thing she deserves.

For about an hour last night, I tried to think of Cal as me but it’s too strange, it'’ easier thinking of him as someone else entirely, but Caylen voids that argument. And aside from all of that as if I wasn’t anxiousness enough already, today is the day I meet the third woman in all of this.  My daughter.

She’s only a year old. Hopefully, I can make up not being there for her birth, first word, and first steps. I don’t have a clue on where to even start being a father. Yesterday, I went with my mom to pick her out a present. She literally bought the whole isle of toys, but out of everything, the one thing that stood out was this singing stuffed penguin. One of my friends talked me into going with him and his kids to see The Penguins of Madagascar, and they loved it. I loved it too, to be honest.  At least I know we can watch cartoons together. I look at myself in the mirror, wearing a white button up and khaki pants, the third set of clothes I’ve tried on today. Now I look like I’m getting dressed for an job interview.

“Knock, knock,” my mom says, entering the room with a smile on her face, the widest I’ve seen in a long time. She’s so excited about meeting Caylen. It’s all she’s talked about. I had suggested to Lauren that maybe I could drive there to meet her, but she said she didn’t mind coming here. My mom would have been so disappointed if she had to wait another day to see her. After everything calmed down, she gushed over her picture.

“What are you doing Chris?” she says, a hint of amusement in her tone, seeing the three outfits I’ve changed into.

I sigh. “Trying to look like a dad,” I admit with a laugh. I’m failing miserably.

“Honey, there isn’t a certain thing to wear to look like a dad. I’m sure a one year-old isn’t going to grade you on your outfit.” She picks up the blue t-shirt and jeans that I was going to put on earlier. “This is you,” she says, handing it to me. “Be yourself.  She’s going to love you. I’m sure of it.” She says it in a way that makes me believe her. She picks up the tie on my dresser I was about to put on and giggles as my dad walks in.

“Am I interrupting?” he asks, putting his arm around my mom’s waist.

“Just me being nosey,” she laughs, resting her head on his shoulder. They’ve been married over 30 years, and it’s like they just met.

“Can you give me a minute with Chris?” he asks.

“Sure,” she says before pecking him on the lips and leaving the room. I take off the white button up and slip on my t-shirt. My dad and I haven’t said much to each other since he picked me up from Lisa’s. He was disappointed in me, and I felt the same way towards him.

“Are you doing okay?” he asks as he sits down at my desk.

“Yeah, I’m still here so it’s a good day,” I say nonchalantly. Both my parents hid the truth from me, but my dad, I hold him more responsible. I know my mom wanted to tell me, and she didn’t because of him.

“…I know that you’re still upset with me, and I understand why. I just…now especially, I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone in this. I know you don’t agree with my judgment and the decision I made, but I hope that you still feel like you can talk to me. The worst thing you can do is hold this all in.”

I look at my dad who has always been my hero, a fair man whose opinion I valued and respected. People used to always joke that my family was the modern day version of the Cleavers, and it wasn’t far from the truth. My relationship with my parents was always great. I’m privileged that, out of all the homes I could have ended up in when I was adopted, I was truly blessed to end up in theirs.

“I know you did what you did because you thought you were protecting me. I don’t like it, but I guess I understand it.” I shrug. He looks surprised then a smile spreads across his face. He grabs a Snickers off my desk. I’m addicted to them. I used to buy the whole boxes from kids during those school fundraisers.

“I didn’t expect you to come around so easily,” he says happily.  He grabs another snicker and tosses me one.

“I probably wouldn't have if it wasn’t for Lauren,” I admit, opening up the candy bar. I see his lips press together.

“I figured if she could understand and overlook what you did, I could too.” I take a bite of my candy bar.

“Your mom told me things went well when you went to see her,” he says after taking a bite from his.

“Well, I wouldn’t say we’re best friends or anything, but I guess we’re both trying to make the best out of the situation we’re in.” I fumble with the candy bar in my hands. I think back on the conversation I had with Lauren. She was pretty considerate, sitting there, letting me vent while she had to feel torn up inside. I sigh reflecting on it all.

“The way she looked at me, Dad…” I hesitate, trying to forget the way her eyes grabbed mine and practically begged them to not look away.

“She looked at me the way Mom looks at you sometimes.” My Dad shifts in his seat uncomfortably.

“And the way she talked about him, Cal…” I sigh, thinking back to how her eyes lit up when she shared things I’m guessing made her fall in love with him. I try to think when, if ever, Jenna looked at me like that.

“You need to be careful with her, Chris.” he states, quickly snapping me from my own thoughts.

“What do you mean?” I sigh. Since the whole secret reveal I really haven’t wanted to hear his advice on things, but today needs to be a good day. It’d be nice if we could reflect on the happy normal family we once was before all this started.

“I mean that things are very complicated, and I think it would probably be best if they stayed as simple as possible,” he replies. He looks me squarely in the eye with the same look he used to give me when I was a kid before taking me to a store and telling me I can only pick one thing and no more than that.

“Lauren’s just found out about you. It’s going to take more than a few days for her to really grasp the truth that you’re not the man she knows and…”

I put my hand up to stop him. “Dad, we have an understanding. I’m sure it’s hard for her, but right now her concern is with her daughter. Everything else is pretty irrelevant now,” I say, standing up.

He presses his lips together and his brow furrows. He’s frustrated. I can tell there’s more he wants to say, but he turns his attention to the picture of Caylen on my desk.

“Your mother is beyond excited about her. She’s all she talks about,” he says.

After a moment, he rests his head in one hand, and we both look at the newest generation of the Scott family. In the last two days, this is the first time in this house that the anger and tension has disappeared.

“Who’d a thought? Me? A grandpa?”  He smiles widely, and in that moment, he’s not the man with the stern, hard demeanor who I’ve gotten used to, but is back to being my dad. He’s the man who coached my little league, who was everyone’s favorite neighbor, and who was my best friend. This is the man I want Caylen, my daughter, to meet; even though the man that made her is the one who drove him away.

***

“She’s been out there a while. Maybe I should go ask her to come in?” my mother says as she looks through the window for the tenth time since Lauren has pulled up.

“Let her get her bearings. There has to be a reason she hasn’t come in yet. We don’t want to ambush the girl,” my dad says calmly as he reads his newspaper.

My mom walks over to him and glances over his shoulder. She then gives him a playful nudge.

“William Scott you can act as calm as you want. You’ve been reading that same page of the newspaper for the past half hour,” my mom teases him. He rolls his eyes, dismissing my mom, but a smile spreads on his face.

“I can’t believe they’re here. My granddaughter is here!” she sings, running over to me and giving me a big hug. I can’t help but laugh. She hasn’t been this excited about things in a while.

“I can’t wait. I can’t wait,” she sings, peering out of the window again. My dad gets up and pats me on the back.

“Are you okay, son?” he asks, his voice concerned but cheerful. The mood in the house has completely reversed since the last time Lauren graced our doorway.

“Yeah,” I squeak out, not recognizing my own voice. I sound like I’m twelve. I laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. I joke about my mom, but I’m just as excited as she is, just a hundred times more nervous but I am managing to stay still. My dad arches an eyebrow at me. Then he walks over to my mom, clasping her shoulders.

“She’s getting out of the car!” she announces excitedly.

“Honey, I think you and I should go in the kitchen,” he says, taking her hand. She whips around, confusion on her face

“Why would we do that? They’re about to come in,” she says, pointing toward the window.

“I know. I just think maybe we should give them a few minutes alone first. This is a private moment,” he informs my mom, who, I think, is pouting.

“B ... but I’m the grandmother,” she asserts.

“Of course you are, and I know you’re ready to coddle and spoil that little girl to pieces, but let’s give Chris a little time. Let’s allow him to meet ... his daughter first,” my dad says calmly. My mom looks so disappointed, but she sighs, a small smile returning to her face.

“That’s why I love your father, Chris. When I’m flying off the handle, he’s there to pull me back to earth,” she says and kisses my dad on the cheek.

“We’ll just be in the back,” she says, then gives me a hug, squeezing me tight.

“I’ll try not to take long Mom,” I promise her, squeezing her back. She gently pats my arm, and she and dad slip out of the room. I take a deep breath and open the door to an entirely new stage of my life. I walk down the porch, my feet feel like they're a thousand pounds each. My heart speeds up as I see my little one making her way, her steps quick and chaotic. She has curly brown hair separated in two pig-tales, and wide green eyes. She’s like a walking doll, and I've never wanted to hold anything more in my life.

Is this real? This is my daughter? I squeeze the penguin in my hand I bought for her as she and her mom make their way onto the side walk. Lauren’s eyes are watery, and she’s smiling widely her, lips pressed tightly together.

“Hi,” she says, her voice a little shaky and high pitched. She sounds as nervous as I feel, but she looks amazing. Her hair is pulled back in a low ponytail, but her skin is vibrant, her eyes no longer puffy. The sunlight is bouncing off her eyes, causing them to sparkle.

“Hey,” I respond, my own voice a little shaky. Lauren lets go of Caylen’s hand, and she makes her way over to me. My daughter looks at me with the same magnetic pull her mom has. She’s smiles and I’m in love.

She reaches up for the penguin I’m holding, and I realize that it’s the toy she’s mesmerized by and not me. I’m a little jealous.

“Umm, my friend’s daughter loves the penguins in the Madagascar movie. I thought she’d like it.” I glance up at Lauren.

“She watches that movie all the time,” she replies.

“I’m glad I made a good choice,” I squat down so I’m near Caylens eye level.  “I thought you might like this.” I say holding the stuffed animal out to her.

“Pepe!” she says excitedly, taking the penguin from my hand and stuffing it in her mouth.

She looks so much like my baby pictures.  This little person is mine, right here in front of me. The feeling of having someone that shares my genes, connected by blood. I’ve never shared that with anyone before.

“I’m Chris, Caylen,” I say with a smile, blinking away the hot water in my eyes... and Caylen’s smile makes more tears come. I quickly wipe them away. Lauren walks closer me. She gently touches my shoulder, and Caylen grabs my face, giggling. I laugh.

“Caylen. This is your daddy.” Lauren’s words come out of nowhere. I’ve never been so grateful to hear anything in my life.

“Thank you, Lauren.” I hope that she can see that I truly mean it. I’m grateful that she brought this little girl into my life. That she’s kept her safe and done it on her own without any of my help. For the first time I hope that the vision I had last night wasn’t just a dream, those words he said to her was genuine. I hope that Cal and Lauren were in love. I hope more than anything Caylen was made out of love. For a second there’s an intense pressure in my head but in an instance it’s gone. I shake the feeling away and look up at Lauren, whose eyes are wide and her body completely still.

“Lauren,” I say, my voice slightly raised. She looks like she’s seen a ghost. After a second she snaps out of it. She lets out a breath and moves toward me. She brings her hand to my cheek. It’s soft and warm and strangely calming, but the gleam in those big brown eyes makes me nervous.

“Is everything okay?” I ask her, and she nods, taking her hand back. I want to tell her that everything is going to be okay. I’ll the best father I can for our daughter. The hurt that’s hiding behind her eyes I can’t erase, but I will do everything in my power to make sure I never hurt her like that. I can’t be who she wants me to be, but I’ll be the best man that I can. That, I know how to be…

Chapter 8

It takes less than two minutes before my mom bursts out of the house and onto the porch. She hugs me, then Lauren, and snatches up Caylen in her arms. She ushers us into the house. Then my phone rings.

It’s Dexter. I feel my blood pressure start to rise just seeing his name. I’ve called him a thousand times and now he decides to call back. I quickly excuse myself from the room and step on the front porch. I wrap the phone tightly in my hand and let out a deep breath before answering.

“Chris, I presume?” he says, his tone slightly amused, and it makes me want to hang up the phone right then and there.

“Very funny, Dexter,” I say tightly, trying to maintain my composure.

“I think it’s time we had a little chat. Don’t you?”

“I think it’s long overdue,” I reply. I see Dexter’s limo pull up. He lets the window down and displays a wide gleeful smile.

“You picked the perfect time to show up. Want to come in, grab a drink?” I ask sarcastically.

“That’ won’t be necessary,” he says, opening the door for me, and I begrudgingly get in and feel the car pull off.

“So. The cat’s been let out of the bag, so to speak?” he asks, closing his laptop.

“I can imagine how freed you must feel. I personally feel like a burden’s been lifted off me.” He takes a sip from his water bottle. “You know I’m not one who enjoys keeping secrets.” He chuckles, and I want to punch the sarcasm right out of him. “You’re pretty quiet. You called me quite a bit. I’d think you’d have a thousand questions for me,” he says, leaning back into his seat.

I try to think rationally and calmly. Dexter probably knows more about me or this Cal guy than my parents. Of course him and Cal were close, they’re both jerks and jerks usually tend to get along.

“You helped him do this,” I say, clasping my hands together to keep them from wrapping around his neck.  He smirks.

“Do what, exactly? “He says, feigning innocence.

“Steal, ruin, and take over my life. None of this rings a bell?” I say, not hiding my bitterness. He only smirks.

“I did you a big favor Christopher. Without my help, you’d be waking up in prison for something you didn’t even remember doing,” he retorts.

“What does that mean?” I say irately.

“Let’s just say, before Cal came under my guidance, he didn’t make the greatest decisions,” he says pouring himself a glass of what looks like scotch.

“Are you saying I’m a criminal?” I ask him pointedly.

“I wouldn’t say that. I think it’d be in your best interest for you not to either,” he says casually before sipping the brown liquid in his glass. I put my head in my hands. What the hell did this Cal guy do? He’s done something, and Dexter knows about it and he’s holding it over my head.

“What did he do?!”

“Relax, Christopher. He never hurt anyone. He just had a knack for taking the things your life didn’t provide him with sufficiently,” he says allusively.

“Besides aren’t there more important things to talk about?”

“For instance, you, my comrade, have a daughter, a beautiful wife, a thriving career with my company—whenever you’d like to take it. Cal is quite good at his job.”  The way he’s speaking of all this makes me want to throw up. As if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“You didn’t do me a favor, for one. Let’s get that straight. You helped him destroy my life. He took away my choices. I don’t owe you anything! You can take your job and shove it up…”

“I’d advise you to think before you go any further, Chris,” he says, the amusement gone from his demeanor and his tone cold.

“I am not here to listen to your verbal tantrums. Since I’m in a charitable mood, instead of ending this meeting, and leaving you just as ignorant of what is going on as before you stepped in this vehicle, I’m letting you know you’re making a very bad utilization of the time I’m making available to you.” He glances at his watch. “Which you have about five minutes left of.”

“Why does he exist?” I say pointedly.

“That’s a better question for your psychiatrist,” he says, his smug grin back.

“What did he do for your company?” I say tightly.

“Confidentially agreement, “he retorts, and I realize he’s not here to help me. He thinks this is a game.

“Which he signed with a fake name,” I yell.

“I can assure you all documentation is legitimate,” he says with a smarmy grin on his face, cupping the now empty glass in his hands.

“It’s also conducive for you to know that the marriage certificate he signed was not fraudulent either,” he replies back calmly. I let out several deep breaths and look at the man who over a decade ago I considered my closest friend, a big brother. Now I can’t even call a casual acquaintance.

“Why did you help him?” I ask.

“Because I have your best interest at heart,” he says simply. I lean forward to make sure he gets what I’m about to say.

“Cal may not know you, but I know you. You don’t do anything if it’s not in your own best interest,” I say in between gritted teeth. He sighs.

“You met Lauren today didn’t you? She’s quite stunning isn’t she?” he asks, and I feel my eyes start to squint.

“Don’t you think it would be easier just to settle back into Cal’s life? Beautiful wife, adorable child, great apartment in one of my buildings.” He laughs, fixing himself a drink.

“It’s not my life, Dex! What don’t you get about that?” He glances away from me momentarily. Then he stares back at me blankly.

“You can’t marry Jenna, Chris,” he says abruptly, and my eyes almost bulge out of my head.

“I’m marrying Jenna.” I say pointedly, adding a disbelieving laugh. The fact that Jenna hasn’t answered my calls and isn’t even talking to me is a moot point, but he doesn’t know that.

“That’s not something Cal will take lightly,” he says with a smug grin on his face, amused. He’s amused at all of this.

“Do you think I care what he’ll take lightly? That I care about anything he wants?!”I ask angrily. He nods his head.

“Do you think I’m happy about how screwed up my life is right now?!”I shout.

“You’re here,” he says calmly.

“Right. I’m here. He’s not. I don’t give a damn about what he thinks. He left me here to fix his mess,” I say in disbelief. How can he can look at me with a straight face and tell me what this jerk off won’t take lightly.

“What happens when that changes?” he says casually, and my stomach sinks.

“You’re here, at the moment. Do you think Cal is going to react well if you leave the woman he loves and his child to marry another woman he can’t stand?” he laughs gruffly. That’s my fear, the reason why I haven’t showed up at Jenna’s house and begged her to forgive me. I really don’t know what this man is capable of, but I don’t need Dexter to know what my fear is.

“I’ll take care of Caylen, not because of what he wants but because it’s the right thing to do, because she shares my DNA,” I assert.

“And how do you know he can’t stand Jenna?” I ask in shock. He lets out another deep sigh and pours himself another drink.

“You and I haven’t been as close as we used to. As we grew older our motivations seemed to lie on different ends of the spectrum but…”

Yeah, he grew into a self-appreciating jerk, and I didn’t.

“… I do respect you, Chris. Your values, the morals you have, the ethical code that you live your life by,” he says, taking another sip of his drink.

“You used to have the same code.” I look him directly in the eye. He flinches but recovers quickly a self-satisfied grin resuming its regular place on his face.

“That is the reason why Cal has the upper hand and will always be a threat,” I let out an angry breathe and fold my hands tightly.

“I’m not afraid of him. He doesn’t scare me, or intimidate me. I can do just as much damage to him as he can do to me, and I’m going to do everything in my power to get rid of him completely. He’s the one on borrowed time, not me,” I say tightly. I see Dexter hit a button in the car.

“Daniel, you can return back to Mr. Scott’s destination. Thank you,” he says.

“As long as you both think of yourselves as adversaries the harder things will be on everyone,” his tone is quiet and solemn, and for a second I believe that he actually cares about how this will affect everyone but himself.

“So that’s all. You’ve known this guy for what? A couple of years? I’m your nephew. Shouldn’t you be on my side?” I’m grasping at straws now. One thing I know is the Crestfields hold family ties in extremely high regard. My dad and Dexter’s dad hadn’t talked in years when my condition surfaced, but when my dad went to his stepfather he spared no resource or expense.

“Technically, he is as well.” He chuckles, and I grit my teeth. Then his wide maniacal smile disappears.

“You and I haven’t felt like family in a long time,” he says. For a moment I think he’s sincere, until his smug grin reappears.

“What was this little visit for? He wanted you to threaten me for him? Because that’s all I’ve gotten out of this.” I laugh, exasperated.

“We’ll talk again,” he says simply, and I feel the car come to a stop. What a waste of time.

I get out of the car, and it takes everything in me to not slam the door. Before I’m two feet away, Dexter lets his window down.

“By the way. The suggestion that you give Cal’s life a try .Mine. Not his,” he says, and just like that he’s gone.

Thank you so much for reading! I know how many books are out there and I’m so grateful you took time to read mine.  I truly appreciate it and will never take it for granted.

If you enjoyed Before I Break please take time to leave a review where you purchased and don’t forget to recommend this book to your friends. The sequel to Before I Break, ‘Almost Broken,’ releases Fall of 2014.

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