Rainfall (10 page)

I make my way back to the Audi trying not to yawn. I lean against the passenger door closing my eyes for a minute and letting the sun shine down on me, the warmth making me feel even
more sleepy.

“Hey,” Adam's voice comes from right behind me and I smile lazily.

I open my eyes just enough to peer at him through my lashes. He is smiling down at me looking on top of the world. Maybe I should get some hypnotherapy, it obviously does wonders for the bags under one’s eyes. 

“My Adam,” I smile, taking his hand.

“Your Adam,” he lifts my hand to his lips, kissing it softly. 

“What was that about?” I ask as we drive home.

“Hmm?” Adam cocks his head toward me, only half paying attention. 

“What did you need to talk to the doc about?” I wonder if I am crossing a line by asking, but Adam and I do not keep secrets from one another. And besides, if he doesn’t want me to know he could always lie.

He seems to consider my question for a short time and then he lifts his arm from the back of my seat and rubs the back of his neck. I know from experience that this is a sign of tension. He is not comfortable.

“I asked him about Kyle,” h
e admits, glancing over at me. I force myself to keep my expression neutral.

“What did he say?” I am holding my breath. A part of me is hoping that the doc thinks the idea is ludicrous and advises strongly against it.

“He agrees that the risks are too high to take a chance letting Kyle loose on the general population. He says I might not be able to afford the maintenance payments.” Adam sounds despondent and I can’t blame him, I feel the same way. “He says that if we are prepared to follow it through, yours is a good idea,” he adds, begrudgingly, as we stop at a red light

“Apparently I’m full of them,” I pout, staring out of the window and he chuckles softly.

“You are indeed love.”

I smile despite my sour mood and I snuggle closer to him, linking my arm through his. 

“How's this for a good idea, Mr Parker? How about we stop and pick up a bottle of wine, a pizza and a movie? A comedy, the funniest we can find.” A lazy grin spreads slowly across his face and I notice he hasn’t shaved this morning, a 5 o’clock shadow is visible across his jaw line.

“That, Miss
Petrova, may just be the best idea you have had all day.” 

Chapter 13

“Who are you?” he yells, his eyes darting frantically left and right as though planning his escape route. “Where is
Lizzy? Where
is
she?” He is half-pleading and half-furious. Simon. It can only be Simon. I cringe inwardly. Simon doesn’t know me. I had not considered this; I have given it no thought at all I was far too concerned with Kyle and the immediate problem that he presented. I raise my hands in front of me in a symbol of surrender and peace, hoping to calm Simon down. We are standing on either side of the king-sized bed and the rumpled bed sheets are doing nothing to diffuse the tension of the situation.  I can see Simon casting horrified glances at them and I flush in mortification. I glance at the bedside clock; we have only been asleep about half an hour, it is just past 10 o’clock. 

“Simon, please. Calm down. My name is Paige.  Paige
Petrova.” I am trying to keep my composure, which would probably be a lot easier if I was wearing more than just Adam’s NYU T-shirt. I pull it down as far as I can, casting surreptitious glances around for my panties.

“What are you doing here?” Simon is glaring at me down his nose. He looks like a pompous arse and I find myself wishing I was back at Fairview playing Scrabble with my dad. The dark, complicated mess that is Adam’s life is cloyingly claustrophobic.  Then I mentally shake myself. Of course I don’t. This is where I want to be. It will all be worth it. I love this man more than life itself. Well, Adam, anyway.
Simon, not so much.

“I’m a friend of Adam’s,” I hear myself say, although it comes out more like a question than a statement of fact.

“Oh!” he declares, drawing himself up to his full height and positively bristling with indignation. “So, you're one of their 'fancy bits' are you?” 

I give a snort of mirth. 

“Um, well, I suppose you might see it that way,” I mutter. I finally locate my pyjama pants and I quickly pull them on while Simon very obviously looks away. Feeling slightly more respectable I take a few steps toward the door.

“Do you mind if we continue this conversation in the dining-room?” I ask and he nods curtly, gesturing for me to go first. My mother would love his impeccable manners, I find myself thinking and I wonder if I am experiencing mild hysteria.

Simon deliberately sits as far away from me at the table as he can and I can’t help but roll my eyes, considering what we were getting up to less than an hour ago. I refrain from pointing that out, for fear of being lectured. Evidently though, Simon does not need any prompting.

“So, Miss
Petrova,” he begins, “when exactly are you planning on ending this inappropriate physical relationship you are enjoying with my body?” He raises his brows and stares unnervingly at me, waiting for an answer. I am caught completely on the hop. I feel like I am back in high school and have just been caught necking with my boyfriend behind the bleachers. 

“Um...” I am fairly sure that any answer that I give will not be good enough for him and I figure the best defence is a good offence, so I launch a counter attack.

“Who is Lizzy?” I demand and have the temporary satisfaction of catching him off guard. He splutters for a minute before he manages an answer.

“That is none of your concern,” he pronounces the 'your' as though it’s a dirty word.

“Who is she?” I press on. He looks mildly irritated and then his boastful nature gets the better of him. 

“She’s my best friend. We grew up together,” he brushes imaginary dirt from the table. “She's worth ten of you.” I am surprised that this insult doesn’t hurt in the slightest. I am finally beginning to fully comprehend that these really are completely separate personalities. Simon is not Adam. He is a stranger and he cannot hurt me. He is, however, going to be around for a while and it is in my best interest that we get along. I am going to need his co-operation for the integration.     

“Where did you grow up together?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.

“At the orphanage, obviously,” he answers, his tone implying that he probably thinks I am retarded. 

“Oh,” I make a mental note to pass on this information to Mr Morris, the private investigator I have working on Adam’s case. 

“Simon, I'm sure Dr Sheldon has spoken to you about the integration process?” I ask, getting up and switching on the kettle.
“Tea?” I ask and he replies reluctantly.

“Coffee, please.
  Black, two sugars.”

“No problem,” I set about making the coffee’s and wait for him to answer my question. It is not long before he does.

“Yes, of course he's spoken to me,” he begins arrogantly. Before I can reply he adds, “You know it's customary to get the permission of the person you are supposedly trying to help.”  He picks up the cup that I have set in front of him and takes a tiny sip. 

Oh, yes
. The penny suddenly drops.  Simon is the
alter
who is convinced that he is the original personality. I contemplate this and understanding dawns. This is why he is so irritated by me; he believes that Adam is doing to him exactly what I am terrified Kyle will do to Adam. As annoying as Simon is, I can completely sympathise with this, even though his concern is only imaginary, whereas mine is very real.

“Look, Simon, I'm so sorry if my being here offends you,” I begin, and he immediately looks suspicious.

“If it makes you feel any better, Adam and I are completely monogamous; he is not running around sleeping with every woman that he meets.” I smile hopefully and he looks at me as though I have just grown a second head. 

“So that’s supposed to make me feel better?” he asks rudely.

“Well, it should!” I exclaim. “I care about Adam. I’m not just some ‘fancy bit’ I think you called it?” 

He takes another sip of his coffee and I sigh in frustration.

“Look, Simon, could we just talk? I’d like to be your friend. We all have the same goal – we all want this integration to be a success. Granted we all believe in a different outcome but there's no reason why we cannot get along.” I get up and wash my mug under the tap before setting it in the drying rack. He follows my progress and for the first time he looks slightly more approving.

“Well, at least you keep things clean,” he accedes, having a quick look around. I smile warmly and he immediately sets his mouth in a grim line.
Oh, come on!

“I’m his
Lizzy,” I mutter, almost under my breath. I cannot believe the nerve of this man. He is so disapproving! 

“What?” he snaps and I jerk in surprise. I wasn’t aware that he was paying attention. I gaze at him in confusion and he barks again, “What did you just say?”

Lizzy. I mentioned Lizzy. Oh this is so bad, he probably believes I am not worthy of speaking her name. I sigh again and figure I may as well just get it over with.

“I said, I’m his
Lizzy,” I explain. “Adam’s, I mean. I’m Lizzy to him – the woman he is in love with – the one he would rather spend time with than anybody else.” I glance over at him, “That’s what she is to you, isn’t she?” I finish, and this time he drops his eyes first. I am almost convinced I am imagining it when he answers.

“Yes. She’s all that and more.”

Simon is fascinating; he is absolutely convinced that he will be the last one standing – that it is his body and his life to reclaim. He is also possibly the most irritating person I have ever had the misfortune to meet. His is snobbish and arrogant and patronising to a fault.  Having rejected both of our DVD choices –
Crazy Stupid Love
and
The Lucky One
, he flipped through the television channels until he found a documentary about Winged Migration. “One should never stop learning.” I just rolled my eyes when he wasn’t looking and refrained from passing comment. He refused popcorn, so I slowly munched my way through the whole bucket on my own, gleaning a certain satisfaction every time he cast a disapproving scowl in my direction. Eventually I have watched enough and suggest we get some sleep. It is past midnight and I am exhausted. It has been a long day and an even longer night. Simon looks horrified, but I quickly set him straight – I did not mean together. He nods and settles back on the couch, looking awfully uncomfortable. I smile to myself, taking a sadistic pleasure in his discomfort and head back to the bedroom where the messy sheets serve as a poignant reminder of my recent love-making with Adam. I sigh wistfully and straighten the sheets before climbing wearily into bed, hugging Adam's pillow close to my body and wishing that he were here with me.

Chapter 14

“Who did yo
u kick out of your bed, love?” Adam murmurs, snuggling up behind me.  I smile, relieved to have him back.

“Simon,” I answer, stretching and pulling the covers up to keep out the morning chill.

“Well thanks to Simon I have a seriously bad crick in my neck,” he moans and I giggle.

“Adam, do you remember a girl called
Lizzy? From the orphanage?” I ask, remembering my conversation with Simon the previous evening.

“The nun?
Sure,” he answers easily. “Why do you ask?”

“Not the nun,” I shake my head. Dr Sheldon had told me about the nun who had taken pity on Adam but I doubt that this is the so-called 'best friend' that Simon was referring to.
“A different Lizzy – a young girl.”

Adam frowns in consternation for a minute and then shakes his head.

“No, definitely not. Why, should I?” 

I shake my own head, “No, not necessarily. She’s t
he one Simon keeps asking for. He says they grew up together in the orphanage. I just wondered if you knew who he was talking about.”

“Sorry, no,” Adam answers then changes the subject abruptly. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”  He nuzzles the nape of my neck and I squirm away,
goosebumps rising on my arms.

“What is it?” I ask.
He leaps from the bed and throws back the heavy lined curtains.

“Ta
da!” he laughs, and I sit up, rubbing my eyes before I realise what he is showing me.

It is raining.
It is the middle of winter and it is raining. This has got to be my favourite thing about New York – the rainy season through winter. My heart practically soars in my chest and a genuine grin creeps across my face.

“It’s raining,” I smile, feeling absurdly happy.

“Yes it is,” he nods and, as his eyes meet mine I see the love shining back at me. He understands, I realise. Adam understands how hard this is for me, how crazy and upside down this life is. Wordlessly he hands me my gown and a pair of slippers. 

“I don’t want you catching cold,” he mumbles, gently tugging my hair and then smacking me on the backside as I run, giggling, from the room.

I head for the pool area. It’s empty of course, no-one in their right mind would be out in this weather. I stand with my face skyward and my hands in my pockets, taking a moment just for me. It is beautiful and is food for my soul. I dance a little jig for good measure before I head back inside. 

“Back so soon?” Adam asks as I shut the front door. He is standing at the kitchen counter and he turns and hands me a steaming mug of coffee. 

“I like the rain, babe, not pneumonia,” I grin, wrapping both my hands around the hot ceramic. 

Something is off, I realise, meeting Adam’s eyes. He is not quite himself. I wonder if Simon's appearance has him unsettled, but Dr Sheldon did warn us that the hypnotherapy could cause all
the
alters
to become more prominent. We had expected it. As it turns out I do not have long to wait before Adam reveals what he is hiding. I have barely perched on the edge of the sofa when he speaks.

“Here.” He hands me a simple white envelope and takes a step back, watching me expectantly. He looks slightly unsure of himself and I turn the envelope over in my hands, looking for some clue as to what it contains, but there is nothing.

“It’s a round ticket,” he blurts out. “To California.”

“A ticket?”
I ask, confused. “Singular? As in, one?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs and grins sheepishly.
“Just the one.”

“Um.
Thanks,” I stammer, not sure what to make of this unexpected gift.

Adam senses my discomfort and he rubs the back of his neck with his right hand before sitting down beside me on the sofa and taking my hands in his.

“Paige, you are amazing. I cannot even begin to imagine what you are going through; coping with all this,” he opens his arms as wide as he can, obviously trying to convey the magnitude of what we are dealing with. “You miss your family,” he continues, not meeting my eyes. “You miss your dad.” I don’t even try and deny it, what would be the point?

“But Adam you need me here,” I insist, trying to ignore the allure of a trip home. 

“Paige.” He rolls his eyes and a small smile plays about his lips. “It’s only a weekend. I think I’ll survive.” 

I bite my lip, it is so tempting. It has been almost two months since I last saw my dad and although Frank is giving me weekly feedback, I desperately want to see for myself that he is okay.

“What about Kyle?” I ask. This is the only thing that is making me hesitate. The thought of Kyle emerging in my absence and doing God only knows what with Adam’s body is terrifying.

“I’ve made arrangements to spend the weekend at the institute,” he admits. “The doc and I are going to play a round of golf on Sunday.”

I open the envelope and pull out the ticket, reading the words. California. It’s like a beacon calling me home. I throw myself at Adam knocking the wind out of him and squeezing him as hard as I can. He laughs and ruffles my hair.

“I take it you’re going?” He is smiling.

“I am,” I grin. “Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure, love.” He stands and takes the mugs to the sink.

My ticket is booked for Friday which gives me two days to plan my trip to the orphanage. I need to speak to Sister Elizabeth,
aka
Lizzy, myself. The nun knew Adam as a child and, although Dr Sheldon has spoken with her, I need to hear it for myself. I spoke to Carl first to see if he thought it would be a good idea. He said it couldn’t hurt to try, although he doubts I will be able to uncover any new information. I think he agrees that the visit would be more for my benefit, really, than Adam’s; to reassure myself that I am exploring every avenue and to hear for myself, first-hand. 

Before we wrap up the conversation I cannot help but ask him, “What is the point of Simon?” It comes out sounding a lot harsher than I had intended, and I blush, grateful that this conversation is taking place over the phone and not in person.

“I’m not sure I understand the question, Paige?” he answers, sounding mercifully more intrigued than irritated. 

“Okay, please don’t judge me,” I say quickly and I think I hear a chuckle on the other end of the line, “but what is the point of him?  I mean, I get that Kyle was created to protect Adam, and I get that Jacob is holding onto
all the trauma and allowing Adam to live without being overwhelmed, but what on earth is Simon doing? Other than annoying everybody to death,” I can’t help but add.

This time there is no mistaking it; Carl laughs heartily.

“Well, Paige, I take it that you and Simon are not really bonding?”

“Understatement of the century,” I answer, rolling my eyes, once again feeling relieved that he can't see me. I know that I am behaving like a petulant child but Simon really gets under my skin. His pompous, annoying, obsessive-compulsive personality is by far my least favourite, which, considering the alternative of Kyle, is really saying something.

“Well, to answer your question,” Carl begins, and I force myself to pay attention, “I believe that Simon represents morality.”

“Morality?”
I hear the dubiousness in my tone and I wince. Carl Sheldon doesn’t seem to notice and continues regardless. 

“I didn’t say that the morality was realistic, in fact, I believe quite the opposite is true.” I am frowning at the phone hoping he is going to make his point soon.

“Adam has led such a difficult and tragic life. We do not know the extent of the trauma involved but I think it is safe to deduce that whatever it was, it was well outside the boundaries of what is morally correct. Whatever happened to Adam must have been terrible.”  He pauses for a minute and I feel the usual lump in my throat, the one I get every time I think of the young Adam and what could possibly have happened to him that was so awful. When Carl starts speaking again I quickly tune back in, “I believe that Simon is almost too moral to compensate for the lack of morality that Adam has experienced in other spheres of his life.”

A-ha
. The penny drops. I hate to admit it but that makes a lot of sense. 

“How do we get Simon to integrate, then?”
I ask, musing out loud. “Do we have to get Adam to face his morality? Adam is moral by nature already despite his awful past.”

“Paige, not every
alter
is always integrated in the same process that we've been exploring.  Remember, some patients may have up to 100
alters
– we certainly don’t physically integrate all 100 personalities. A lot of the secondary
alters
often integrate simultaneously with other dominant personalities or they simply fade away with the passage of time as the patient becomes well again.”

“Here’s hoping that happens sooner rather than later,” I grumble and Doctor Sheldon laughs again.

I leave early on Thursday morning and arrive at the orphanage just before ten. I stand on the steps of the drab, grey building and take a deep, steadying breath. I do not want to be here. This place is dark and despondent and I already feel far too depressed to go any further.

“Suck it up, Paige,” I chide myself.  

Sister Mary-Elizabeth is waiting for me. We spoke briefly on the phone the day before and, while she did not sound thrilled to hear of my imminent visit, she did not deny me coming, either.

“Paige.” I am pleasantly surprised when she greets me warmly, a waft of jasmine reaching me as she emb
races me in a friendly manner. “How lovely to meet you.” I stare into her warm brown eyes and I can see exactly why Adam trusted this woman. She is probably about 45 years old which would have put her in her 20s when Adam met her. She is pretty and feminine and exudes kindness and warmth. I feel a twinge of jealousy that is completely unfounded considering Adam’s childhood. No matter how stern and unaffectionate my own mother may have been at least she was around. I grew up in a stable environment wanting for nothing. Looking around the drab and dreary orphanage I think of the young boy Adam growing up here and I want to cry. Mary-Elizabeth seems to sense my discomfort and she nods knowingly. 

“We do our best,” she says, “but it is, unfortunately, often not enough.”

I nod in return, swallowing the lump in my throat and forcing myself to get to the point of why I am here.

“I wanted to speak to you about Adam,” I begin hesitantly.

“Yes, you said so when you called,” she smiles, “why don’t we go into my office, it’s far more comfortable.”

The nun’s office is a tiny, unassuming room painted a pale blue, with minimal furniture. I notice that the paint is peeling in some places, but all in all, it is a cosy, welcoming space.

“He was such a timid, sweet young man.” She smiles fondly, lost in her memories, and then she shakes her head sadly, her eyes on the floor. “For the most part. The others were not quite as charming.” She speaks so openly that it takes me a moment to realise my shock, all thoughts of peeling paint forgotten.

“When did you realise,” I ask, my heart in my throat, "that there were other personalities?”

She thinks about this for a minute before she answers. 

“Around his 10th birthday,” she finally replies.

“How did you know what it was?” I ask, trying not to sound accusatory. “The other sisters...”

“I'm younger than many of my counterparts,” she interrupts, seeming quite at ease with my line of questioning. “I'm not so narrow-minded as to assume that every bad thing in this world is the devil's hand. Man is responsible for a lot of his own problems.”

“So, you think something happened, then?” I venture. “Here at the orphanage?” I clarify.

“Oh, definitely,” her answer is immediate. “Something terrible occurred a few years after he arrived. It happens, unfortunately. Children are resourceful and scheming by nature. As hard as we try we cannot monitor them 24 hours a day.” She is not trying to excuse anything or
anybody, she is simply stating the facts.

“Do you have any idea what it was?” I already know the answer to this question but I want to hear it for myself.

Elizabeth sits forward slightly, her hand touching my arm, trying to comfort me.

“I'm sorry, Paige, but I don’t.” There is a pause and then she continues, “I cannot possibly tell you how badly I wish that was not the case. Perhaps if I had known I might have helped.”  She is self-persecuting and I cannot allow that.

“You did help,” I tell her honestly. “You were the only good thing in this place. Adam says so himself. He says you were the closest thing to a friend that he had and that if it wasn't for you he doesn’t think he would have survived this place.” I realise what I am saying and hasten to add, “No offence!”

“None taken,” she assures me, smiling slightly. “I know what it must look like to you.” She gestures around with a sweep of her arm.

“Unfortunately, we do what we can with what we have. As I said, it’s never enough.”