“Have you ever tried to speak back to them?” I can’t help but snicker, but her face is completely serious
“No.” I tell her as if it’s obvious. For one, I didn’t even know that was possible and two, I really am not interested in getting to know either of those jerks. She stands from her seat and walks over to sit in the chair beside me.
“Are you afraid of them?” she asks and I feel anger rise up in my chest.
“No, I’m not afraid of them,” I scoff at her.
“Then why wouldn’t you want to talk to them?” she asks, and I look at her again as if it’s obvious.
“Because they want my life, they’ve tried to shut me out of my life. I’m angry not, I'm afraid!” I shout at her.
“Do you think you’ll ever stop being angry?”
I frown at her question and get up from my seat. I feel energy swirling around inside of me that I have to let out.
“If they stop trying to screw up my life,” I say through a nervous laugh.
“And what would you want them to do in order to not ‘screw up your life,’” she says in air quotes.
“Go away and never come back.” I smile widely at this and she frowns.
“You’ve done peer mentoring before haven’t you, Christopher?” she asks and I nod.
“If you had two students you worked with who didn’t get along, what would you have them do?”
I roll my eyes knowing where this is going. “This isn’t the same thing!” I let out a strained breath and sit down. “Fine. I’d have them talk about what the problem is, and try to find common ground, let them know that they don’t have to like each other but respect is essential,” I tell her begrudgingly.
“That sounds like amazing advice.” She tells me with a triumphant grin. I sit down feeling defeated, and think back to all the kids I used to mentor and how they sometimes would look at me as if I didn’t understand what it was like to be young and misunderstood. They thought my life was perfect and that I couldn’t possibly understand or give them advice. Now I’ve traded places with them.
“We talked about control the last time you were here. Control is power. Knowledge is control. Communication gives you the keys to access those things.” She explains as if it’s the simplest answer in the world. I unzip my khaki jacket and set it beside me—it’s starting to get hot in here. The prospect of being able to talk to them freaks me out. I never thought it would be possible, but in some way I guess it would be like talking to myself.
“You talked about co-consciousness before.” She studies me for a second and then nods.
“Chris and Collin already are, right?” I ask and she gives me a tight smile. “Or you can’t answer that?”
“What I can tell you is that your alternate states of mind have been in communication for awhile,” she says with a sympathetic grin. Great, it’d make sense why I’m the one left out of the loop.
I shift in my seat. “So if I was considering doing this, how would it work? Would I stand in a mirror or something?” I laugh, but she maintains its seriousness.
“Not quite.” She gives me an empathetic smile.
I feel so confused. “You can meet with them,” she adds, and I think she’s pulling my leg at this point.
“I’m serious Chris. We’ve already discussed how phenomenal the power of the human mind is—your mind specifically.” She looks at me almost in awe. It only makes me uncomfortable. “You can imagine a place in your mind where you could meet them.”
“Where we all just sit down and sing “Kumbaya”,” I snicker and her smile hardens.
“Christopher, I am not here to waste your time, please don’t waste mine. Nothing I present to you is meant to be a joke or play on your intelligence.” Her voice is cool and unwavering, and it makes me feel almost guilty, but I quickly think of all the things she’s kept from me and I realize I’m right to have my doubts—even though holding onto them right now won’t help me at all.
“Okay… how would I do that?” I remove the condescension from my tone, and she smiles widely.
“First, you work on the letters, and then we’ll begin.”
My thoughts from this morning replay like a TV show I’ve watched a million times as I sit on the couch watching Caylen and Mrs. Scott play with one of the gadgets Chris bought her yesterday. Chris remembered the song and it was something so small—really insignificant to anyone else—but to me it meant a lot. The look on his face after he realized it hit me harder because he looked almost scared. I regretted telling him that I didn’t have to go to every session with him because I know he’ll talk to Helen about it, and I wonder what her response will be—if she’ll help him uncover why he looked so nervous instead of triumphant. Maybe that’s how he’s always been. He didn’t tell me about his memories right away after he started remembering them. I know it has to be scary when your mind starts putting pieces of a puzzle together you’re not sure if you even want to solve, but that scares me. If he’s afraid of integration—of being whole—where does that leave us? The feeling hits me even more as I watch Caylen. She’s so happy now, blissfully unaware of the issues her father and mother face, but it won’t be like that forever. Caylen can’t have three dads—how would she begin to understand?
“Are you okay, Lauren?” Mrs. Scott looks at me with a warm but worried smile. I snap myself out of my thoughts.
“Yeah, just trying to get this picture to come together.” I’ve been sketching her and Caylen but am nowhere near done.
“Are you hungry? Want me to make you something to eat?" she asks brightly and I smile.
“I’m stuffed from breakfast and the submarine sandwich you made me for lunch. If I eat one more bite of anything before dinner, Chris is going to get me confused with a blimp,” I tease her.
“Your kitchen is so beautiful I could bake in there for hours,” she says before squealing at the doll Caylen has pushed in her face. “But Chris is the one who made you breakfast, it wasn’t me,” she throws me a half-smile.
I think back to when Chris stepped in to teach me how to cook, and how much more things were complicated then. Thankfully they’re simpler now—or at least they’re supposed to be—or maybe in Chris’s eyes we swapped Jenna out for Collin.
“I’m so sorry, Lauren.” Mrs. Scott’s voice is low and sullen, her eyes full of sorrow.
“For what?” I ask her a little confused.
She runs her hand through Caylen’s black curls. “I should have said something to you sooner. The day I came here when I found out you and Cal were engaged. I was so selfish to think of all the time he missed with her, the time that William and I missed with her.”
I get off the couch and sit beside her. “Mrs. Scott, that’s in the past. We just have to believe that it all worked out for the greater good. I don’t know what would have happened if you had told me about him, and Cal is so stubborn he may have made good on his promise to disappear. We may not have had Caylen. You are the best mother-in-law I could have ever imagined. Caylen loves you, and you’re wonderful to us.” I mean every word. She hugs me, and I think back to the day in the kitchen when I imagined having a relationship like this with her.