If I Break (39 page)

“Lauren it’s 11.00 p.m. at night. You haven’t answered your phone in two days. We’ve been so worried about you! What’s wrong ... what happened? Did you find him?” Angela asks frantically.

“I-I want to see her,” I whimper.

“Lauren, no, not like this - you’ll upset her terribly,” Raven scolds me.

I realize waking up to her mom crying hysterically isn’t the best idea for my daughter at all and I relent.

“H-he’s not real,” I stutter pathetically, trying to calm down.

But I think all of this hugging and coddling they are doing is making it worse.

“What? Who’s not real honey? Cal ... he was really Chris?” Hillary tries to infer. She’s part right at least. How do I even begin to explain this to them?

“That fucking son of a bitch bastard! I knew it, I knew it all along!” she continues. Her voice grows from uncertain to angry in a matter of nanoseconds.

“No-no, it’s not what you think, its worse,” I say in between sniffles.

“Come on honey, let’s get you up and cooled down with a glass of water so you can tell us all about it,” Raven says authoritatively.

They help me get off of the floor. We head towards the kitchen where Hillary and I sit down. Angela paces the floor nervously. Raven grabs a pitcher of lemonade out of the fridge and pours a glass for me, herself and Hillary. I quickly take a few sips and try to think of how I can explain it. They both look at me full of anxious curiosity.

“I don’t really know where to start. It’s ... it’s all so ... so surreal is the only way I can explain it,” I say, staring into the cold glass of lemonade.

“Take your time L,” Hillary says reassuringly. Raven nods in agreement.

For the next hour I give them a play by play of the events that transpired over the past two days. I tell them everything from discovering ‘Chris’out his mental illness, then to me and Chris coming to an agreement for him to be in Caylen’s life and finally me basically giving him a pardon on the obligation Cal had to me besides Caylen. Not once during the entire story do any of them interrupt. They’ve all been silent since I finished and the silence is almost scary.

“Please say something,” I urge nervously trying to cut the thick tension in the room.

I’m sitting in between three of the most opinionated women that I’ve ever met and I think for once they are speechless.

“I, I don’t know what to say,” Raven says. She looks unsure and then I look to Hillary who looks angry - I was sure she’d have a mouthful to say.

“Hillary?” I ask, almost afraid to hear her opinion, but today can’t get any worse.

“I don’t know what to say either. I ...I mean what can I say to something like this? I mean, basically... “

She stops and clasps her hands together as if she’s actually pondering the right words to say. I’ve never known Hillary to edit her words before speaking them and I’m touched at the fact she’s trying to be thoughtful, but at this moment whatever she has for me, I’d rather her dump it on me now so that after today I can try to leave this feeling behind.

“Hillary, whatever you have to say, just say it,” I urge her. Out the corner of my eye I see Angela shoot her warning glare.

“The last time I did that, you ended up fainting,” she chuckles dryly.

“It wasn’t what you said, it’s what you didn’t say,” I assure her.

Words hurt, but she didn’t have to use any. She wasn’t spouting knowledge I had been hiding from; she just pulled out a newspaper with my husband’s picture on it under a different name.

“Well, I think this is a load of bullshit,” she says brashly, and for the first time in days I laugh.

It starts out as a small giggle and grows; Raven looks at me strangely and then begins to laugh too. Hillary folds her arms and then joins in. Angela looks at us as if we've all lost our mind but I can’t explain what a wonderful feeling it is to laugh - truly laugh and not cry.

“I mean I don’t have a degree in Psychology or anything so I could just be misinformed but ... what? Multiple Personality Disorder? Give me a break! Do you know how many guys will be using this excuse if you let this slide L? It’ll catch on like wild fire. “‘
Honey, it wasn’t me fucking that other chic it was my alter ego
.’”

She explains this in between her laughter and then it subsides and the seriousness of the situation creeps back into the room.

“What do you think of this Raven, you’re the old-most mature of us all?” She jokes lightly. Raven lets out what seems to be a much needed sigh and nods her head.

“Well, I know this may be telling of my age but, I remember seeing an episode on Oprah about this psychologist who interviewed this woman who said she had 15 ... umm ... I forgot what she called them ... not personalities, it was another word. Oh gosh, it’s slipped my mind.”

I watch her brow furrow as she seems in deep thought.

“Alters?” Hillary offers.

“Yes that’s it!” Raven says excitedly, like she’s won a prize on a game show. I turn surprised eyes to Hillary.

“I watch a lot of soap operas,” she shrugs

“Well Ang, you’re the one who’s spending all of your daddy’s money on that degree of yours. You took a couple of psych courses, right? Let’s see how much they were worth,” Hillary jokes.

“Well I admit I know a little. In a course I took, this was one of the disorders that we went over and from what my Professor said, it’s a diagnosis that’s still highly debatable in the mental health community. There are doctors who swear that it’s real and others that think it’s something that’s “therapist induced” - a misdiagnosis of a number of what could be several other disorders including schizophrenia, bipolar disorder...”

“Okay, so is it real or not?” Hillary interrupts.

“Like I said, there isn’t a general consensus yet. There was one study, however, that recorded neurological changes when the alleged ‘alters’ or ‘changes’ were said to take place. However, it could have been due to a number of factors...”

“Well regardless of whether this ‘condition’ exists or not, the question is - does he have it? Let’s face it, the chances of him having this are ... what?” Hillary exclaims.

“Hillary, I don’t know. I’m not his psychiatrist. But some of the behaviours that Cal exhibited, from what Lauren has shared with me ... I wouldn’t completely rule it out as a possibility,”

“Give me a break,” Hillary mumbles under her breath.

“Hey, you asked for my opinion and this is how you respond?” Angela retorts sharply.

I rub my fingers in soothing circles on my temples. This conversation is starting to be overwhelming.

“Ladies!”

Raven interrupts the two of them and they immediately become silent, having obviously sensing my stress level rising.

“I don’t think any of us here are qualified to agree or disagree with Angela’s comment on the validity of this illness,” she says eyeing Hillary, who looks away from her gaze.

Her attention focuses back on Angela.

“And I think Angela would agree, without knowing the specifics of Cal or... Chris’s condition, she can’t be certain whether he does in fact have this condition.”

Angela nods in agreement.

“The most important thing right now, is to support Lauren in what she believes and in how she decides to move forward from now on.”

I glance up and notice that all of their gazes are on me. Raven reaches for my hand and I hold it. She squeezes it, giving me a bit of encouragement. The gesture letting me know whatever my answer is, she’s behind me, which means so much at this point.

“I didn’t want to believe them. I didn’t want to believe any of this, but when it was him and I alone. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t Cal.”

“Well honey, if that is your decision, I stand behind you one hundred percent, and I will be there to support you on it,” Raven smiles and squeezes my hand, reassuringly.

“We all will, Lauren,” says Angela, hugging me from behind. We all look at Hillary and she takes a deep breath and for a moment it looks like she’s contemplating.

“You and Caylen mean the world to me, and I’m sure this is hard enough for you without me bitching about the situation. If you can deal with all of this, I’m not going to be the one to make this harder on you,” Hillary says.

She comes over and wraps her arms around me. I sigh, a huge sigh of relief. Just knowing that I have the support of the people around me makes things not seem as bad. Certainly not as bad as when I walked through the door an hour ago but I’m so afraid. I’ve held onto the past for so long ... not knowing what happened to Cal was like having a crutch to lean on - and now it’s been taken away.

“How do I pretend the last few years of my life didn’t happen?” I say frantically.

Angela gently grabs my face and lifts it up, so that I’m looking directly at her.

“You don’t. You don’t pretend that the past didn’t happen, but you don’t dwell on it. You accept the past but you don’t live there anymore,” she says, in an affectionate tone but her words are stern.

“You’ve chosen to look forward, and to let go, and you can do it. You’ve been through so much, and you’ve bent a few times but never broken. We won’t let you now!” Angela says and squeezes me a little tighter.

“Okay?” she asks, the authority disappearing from her face and the warm smile I know returning.

“Okay,” I nod, calming down.

She’s right. As much as I’ve talked about moving on and forward - I haven’t. It’s the reason I’m still here. Everywhere I look, I see a memory of Cal: enrapturing, comforting, and appeasing me. And now I can’t rest in memories - in false hope. I have to let go. I have to let him go and believe that the future can take the place of my past.

March 23rd 2013

It’s been two weeks since the catastrophe of a lifetime happened to me; since I found out about, met, and, well, almost fought with Cal…Chris and the woman he loves. The woman who, unfortunately, in some bizarre, unimaginable way, will be my daughter's
stepmom.
I try not to think about that, or how I’m supposed to accept it. I said I would accept it, and my mind says I must, but my heart and mind have never been able to agree on anything. But since tomorrow I’ve agreed I’ll head back to Madison, so that Caylen can meet Chris and his parents, I’ve found myself thinking about it more and more. Today, I worked up the confidence to try to start moving forward. Still, it’s funny how when you try to move on, some habits from the past creep in and wrap around you.

I haven’t had any alcohol since before I found out I was pregnant with Caylen. Actually, the last time I drank was the night I most likely conceived her. That night, I packed my things with the wine’s help, determined to leave Cal. Tonight, I need it to aid me in packing up his things, trying to be content with the fact that he’s gone.

I look at the last box I packed; the remainder of all things “Cal” that I could find. It's the first step of many that I’m taking to try to “cleanse” myself of him, even though the thought of it makes my heart sink, even though my own tears choke me up as I gather everything together. I keep trying to remind myself I have to do this, that this is for Caylen, but how do I shake the feeling that I’m mourning? I know it’s only been two weeks since all of this happened, but when do I feel “fixed?” When will I be able to get over all that has happened? When do I start to feel a little less numb than I did the day before? Because now, the same hole within me just seems to be getting deeper, and what Angela described as a way of taking my life back, in actuality, is like burying myself deeper and deeper. I squeeze my hands together and take deep breaths. I can’t stand this.

After spending hours going through his things and packing them,
cleansing
myself, I’ve been searching unsuccessfully, looking at old pictures of us, trying to find some sign. Was there some secret hidden behind his eyes that I failed to unlock? I replay every conversation that we had, trying to think. Was there something I missed? Did he ever try to tell me? Was there anything I ignored which would have prevented me from being here? In the end, I realize I’m surrounded by the past, by lies, by a ghost of a person who never really existed.

That thought sends chills through my body, and if I believed it, I wouldn’t be in mourning for a person who's still alive. At least his body is here. I try not to think where Cal really is. What happens to an alter when it's not here? Has he completely dissipated, or can he see from behind Chris’s eyes? At first sight, when I threw myself onto Chris and called his name, was Cal somewhere in there? Could he hear me call him? Could he see me?

I know I have to stop thinking like this. It’s not going to do me any good. I can’t hold onto the belief that Cal exists on any level. I have to move on for Caylen, our little girl—to whom I heard him talking that night. At that time, Chris didn’t know who Caylen was, so it had to be Cal. Was he able to escape from whatever mental desert he was lost in, for that purpose only?

Ugh! I told Chris that I could deal with this, but they were just words. I kick over a box I packed and throw my wine glass into the wall, watching the small amount drip down the grey wall, leaving a vivid stain. I have to get a hold of myself. I’m so glad that Angela took Caylen for the night while I do this. I guess she knew it wasn’t going to be as easy as she led me to believe.

You’re being ridiculous, Lauren,
I scold myself. I go to close up the box and remember there’s only one thing left that hasn’t been packed away. I walk over to my drawer, and underneath all of my blouses, a button up of his, studded with tiny black buttons and smelling faintly of cologne- Cal’s. When he first left, I couldn’t bear to get rid of his things. I always hoped he’d be back to reclaim them. After a few months, I avoided them, never once opening his closet.

But this one thing, this one shirt, I couldn’t bear to put in the box I didn't hide from or avoid it, though I hid it from everyone else. The one I wore for sleeping on the nights when I missed him so much that even the fabric that last touched his skin gave me comfort. His scent, faintly clinging to it, calmed me, while a part of him rested inside me.

Going through an entire pregnancy alone, without him, was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I put on a brave face for those around me, especially Raven, Angela, and Hillary. They were there with me every day, making sure I was never alone--although I was still lonely when they were with me, because they weren’t him.