9: Twine

I sat there as she finished his story. Her story. Their story. Whatever it was called. I was shaking and unable to wrap my mind around what she had just said. So many words. So long a story. And yet it was impossible to capture with a words what had happened, what was happening. What was.

“So… they’re the same person.” I shook my head.

“They’re the same person, but they’re different people. It’s hard to understand. Impossible. But it’s true.”

I kept shaking my head, trying to hold my clammy hands together. They were freezing. It felt like ice cubes had been dropped into my stomach and ground against my insides. The blood in my veins had been replaced with freezing water. It was a struggle to even breathe.

“They’re all Damian.”

“In a way,” she said.

“I loved Abigail. But she’s not real. She’s not even… she doesn’t even know. She doesn’t know that she’s fake. But she is. I fell in a love with a person who was never there. I fell in a love with a boy.”

“No, no. It’s not like that at all, Caleb. You couldn’t have known. And you can’t help or fix it or anything. Just don’t think that and blame yourself.”

I looked up at her incredulously. “Why would I blame myself?”

She shrugged. “People just do that type of thing a lot.”

“I don’t know what to do,” I said. “I loved her.”

“Do you think that has to change?”

“There is no future for us!” I slapped the table, drawing curious and disdainful expressions from all the other customers. “There is no future! Why would I do that to her and to myself? She won’t understand. But I do. I can’t do that.”

She sighed sadly. “Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know. I’ve never been in your situation. All I know is that you can’t change them, and you can’t fix them. I don’t know Abigail. But I know Xavier. He’s never had a friend before. He really appreciates you.”

“There is no Abigail and no Xavier! They’re the same. They’re all just Damian. They’re all freaks!”

“Did you just call my son a freak?” Her voice was full of ice.

“How is he your son when half the time he’s not even there?” I ignored her furious glance. “He doesn’t even live in your house!”

She stared at me. There was a mixture of pity and hatred in her eyes. “You think it’s not hard? When I know that some days he won’t come home. He goes out. I don’t know if he will ever come back. Who knows what Damian gets into! He could kill himself. And my son with him.”

I sat blankly. There was nothing to say.

“You think it doesn’t rip open my heart when he comes back with a black eye and a busted lip and doesn’t know where he gets them? Right now, you’re struggling to love Abigail because of what she isn’t and what she is. But with Xavier, it’s a struggle to love himself. I watch him grow up and think he’s going crazy because he goes to sleep fine, and when he wakes up there’s blood on his pillow and in his hair. I have seen a boy lose his mind slowly. I see him struggle to care about himself. Xavier. Doesn’t. Love. Himself. He hates what he is, and he doesn’t even know!”

Tears began to flow down her cheeks.

“I’ve been to his doctor. I’ve gotten my own. I’ve researched it. I’ve looked into what professors and experts think. There is no easy solution! Maybe there’s none at all. But damn it all, I’m not giving up on him.”

She stared me directly in the eyes. “I’m not giving up on my son. If you want to give up, that’s your decision. But I’m never going to make that choice. Because no matter how much it hurts me, giving up would hurt him worse than it would me. Maybe there’s no tomorrow. But I’m sure as hell gonna give him the best today I can.”

“I’m…” What I was going to say died in my throat.

“Don’t. Don’t apologize.” She took a deep breath. “It’s been a while since I told anyone. It just all came out so fast.”

“I had no idea. How it was like.”

There was silence for a moment. I thought about excusing myself to the restroom, hoping she would see it as her cue to leave. Then a question came to my mind.

“Does it ever get easier? Loving him?”

“No.” She looked at me thoughtfully and I could tell she was feeling sorry for me. I hated when people did that. “It won’t for you either. With her.”

“Should I tell her? About Damian and what goes on when she doesn’t remember?”

Xavier’s mom shrugged, but I knew she had a very strong opinion. “I can’t answer that for you. You do what you think is best, and what is right. But let me tell you, it takes a strong person to deal with that. If she isn’t strong enough.... Well, just remember. If you lose your girlfriend, I lose my son.”

<><><><><>

I knew it was going to happen. There was only a short walk home from the coffee shop, but I just knew. As I was rounding a corner, making my way onto my home street, she popped out of nowhere, cutting across the yards. Her eyes looked around wildly and I saw she had no makeup on.

She had been Damian. But now she was Abigail.

“Caleb!” she said.

I stood rooted to the spot as she threw her arms around me. It felt good at first, but then I remembered she was a boy. I was being touched like this by a boy. I nearly threw up on the spot.

But she wasn’t a boy. She was Abigail. Like Xavier’s mom had said, they were different people. You couldn’t give up on them.

Giving up would be so much easier, though.

“Caleb!” This time, she sounded irritated.

“What?”

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

“Of course.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry. I’ve been really moody lately. My grandparents…”

“What about them?”

Abigail leaned in closer to me and whispered, “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure.”

She grabbed my hand and began to walk down the sidewalk in the opposite direction from my home. It took all of my strength not to pull my hand away. I tried not to think too much. Listen now, think later.

“So I go off to my grandparent’s house a lot. My aunt and uncle put me in the car and we start driving. I always fall asleep on the way up there, I guess. And in a few days, I’m back in the car. But between those rides, there’s a gigantic blank spot. I don’t even know what happened. I’ve never seen my grandparents, or remembered it anyways. Never. I just don’t understand.”

She began to cry and I felt terrible. I knew the answer she wanted to hear. But maybe she didn’t really need to.

“Does it bother you?” I asked hesitantly.

“Obviously, Caleb.” She looked at me and smiled. “You’re kind of clueless a lot, you know. It’s cute.” She blushed and turned away.

I felt butterflies in my stomach again but told them to go away. She was a guy! Well… Damian was a guy. And this was Damian. Right?

“Caleb?”

“Sorry, sorry.”

“You’re zoning out a lot today.”

“Got a lot on my mind.”

She shrugged and didn’t say anything else. Abigail always knew when to change the subject. Whenever I didn’t want to talk about it, she could tell instantly. I loved that.

“How are you?” I asked.

“I can’t get that off my mind!” she said. “Ughhh. I just want to know what happened.”

“I do.”

“What?”

I cringed. The words had come out before I could stop them. “I do… too. I want to know too.”

“No.” I could feel her drilling holes into my head, but I kept it faced downwards. “You meant you know.”

“I didn’t. Nope”

“I’m not stupid.”

“I know you’re not. You’re very-”

“Don’t change the subject!” she snapped. “Tell me what happened. I don’t care how you know or what it is. I need to know.”

“But…”

“I’m not talking to you unless you tell me.”

“Silent treatment?” I asked incredulously.

“If that’s what it takes.”

“So stubborn,” I said teasingly. She didn’t answer. Instead, she sat down on a park bench and folded her arms. I sat beside her gently. “Please don’t make me tell you.”

No answer.

“You won’t like it. It might do bad things. Not just to me and you. To others.”

She blinked rapidly, trying not to cry. A tear rolled from her eye and I couldn’t stand it anymore as she began to shake. I knew it was the first time she’d cried in a long, long time. She had remembered how to, I guess. The people you love bring back the worst memories, sometimes.

Thank god it wasn’t a busy day on the street. We didn’t need any spiteful glances or curious pedestrians.

I put my arm around her comfortingly and she leaned her head on my shoulder. Then I told her everything. I started from the beginning, with the story about Damian’s father. Never once did she interrupt. She listened, and I wondered if she was horrified or shocked. There was no immediate response, but she began to cry harder throughout the story.

I stopped halfway through and kissed her hair.

“Don’t stop,” she said between sobs. “I need to know.”

“I can’t go on.” There were tears pouring down my own face into her hair. “I don’t like hurting you.”

She looked up at me with her wet cheeks and red eyes. “Please. Just go on. Hurt me.”

Our noses touched for a minute and I didn’t want to go on. I just wanted to sit there, peaceful, knowing she was still okay. Shaken, sobbing, but still fine. That wouldn’t last. I was sure. I couldn’t do it. I just wanted her to sit there, against me, until she calmed down.

But then she put her head back on my shoulder. She was more tense than before, afraid to relax. Afraid she might change again, maybe. “I’m ready.”

I went on. Nearly an hour after we’d sat down, we stood up and I walked her back to her house. She wasn’t crying anymore. She said there were no tears left. I had plenty.

<><><><><>

When we got to her house, I saw her up to the door and was about to knock when it opened from the inside. Her uncle stood there, glaring at me with a menacing expression.

“So this is where you went?” he growled. I guessed he was talking to Abigail. “First, I catch you sneaking off to the movies with this…” The veins on his head throbbed and he lost his voice for a second. “And now you’re walking around and leaving without even telling us where you go!’

“Harry! Remember what the doctor said. She can’t-”

He whipped around and I saw that it was Abigail’s aunt. The man’s wife, more importantly. She shrunk back into the kitchen and he shouted, “My name is Harold!”

“Dr. Crosswel, you mean?” Abigail asked. “Is that who she’s talking about?”

Her uncle’s face contorted in anger and shock. “How… how do you know that name? You shouldn’t… He…”

“I know everything.” Abigail crossed her arms. “I know that you can’t be mad at me for not telling you where I go and for not coming back. It’s not my fault. Dr. Crosswel told you that. Is that why we stopped seeing him? Why you took me away so many years ago?”

He didn’t answer.

“You stopped seeing him?” I asked her, shocked. I couldn’t believe her uncle and aunt would let her stop. Make her stop. The doctor can’t have been that bad.

Maybe that was the point. Maybe he was helping.

She didn’t answer me. Instead, she addressed her uncle. “I know you were hiding it from me! But now I’m smarter. I know everything. You can’t punish me for things I don’t even do. I know who I am!”

“You” -he spat at her- “are worthless! You’re f-ed up. You’re a freak.” He stretched out a hand like he was going to reach for her, but I saw her aunt come running up in time and pull him back.

“Stop it, Harold!”

His anger subsided for a minute as his wife put her arms around him. He even smiled, but I knew it wasn’t a happy smile.

Those cold, gray eyes of his turned to me. “Get in the house, Abigail,” he said without looking at her.

I could see she was about to cry again. I hoped they wouldn’t punish her, wouldn’t harm her in any way. But I kept eye contact with her uncle, refusing to waver.

“Caleb…” She put a hand on my shoulder.

“Get inside!” her uncle shouted.

“Go,” I whispered kindly, still not breaking eye contact with him. “I’ll see you soon.”

She left then and her uncle stepped outside, closing the door behind him. Now it was only us left on the porch. For a minute, there was complete silence and the only sound was the wind. The sun was setting behind him, and it hurt my eyes to keep them open but I refused to turn away, to look weak.

“Why did you tell her?” he asked seriously. I wasn’t sure if he was mad. Probably a safe assumption, though.

“Because she asked.”

“Do you do everything people ask?”

“If it’s the right thing to do.”

He laughed heartlessly. “You think that was the right thing to do? Telling her how screwed up she is?”

“She already knew something was wrong. She thought she was going crazy. There were spots of her memory-”

“I don’t care!” He sighed angrily. “She is crazy. We try to protect her from that. That doctor wasn’t helping. He was pushing her towards remembering everything. So we pushed him away. Left him.”

“That was good for her! To remember.”

He shook his head. “No. Right now, she only knows what happened. She doesn’t actually remember. You know why she has this problem? Why she -this personality- was even made? So that she wouldn’t, couldn’t remember. Because remembering hurts. And remembering will drive her insane, will cut open all those scars. Right now, she only knows about the scars. She sees them. But remembering would cut them open all over again. It’d be going through it all a second time. Losing her sanity again. Only this time, you’d be the one at fault.”

“You’re wrong,” I said. “I’ll prove it.”

“You’ll do nothing,” he said. “I’ve made up my mind. You’re not to see her anymore, to talk to her, to have any contact.”

I shook my head. “You can’t stop me.”

He grabbed the collar of my shirt and pulled me close enough that I could smell his terrible breath. “I can. I will. You’re not going to f- up my daughter anymore. I’ll protect her.”

“Niece,” I corrected. “And whatever idea you have of ‘protecting,’ it’s sick and twisted.”

“She’s a sick and twisted person. You have to treat them differently.”

“She’s a beautiful person.” I shoved him in the chest and walked away.

“Stay away,” he shouted.

I kept walking, trying not to imagine what would happen to her and how she would cry that night. Hopefully, they wouldn’t take her phone. I could still text her. With that thought in mind, I rushed home as fast as I could, anxious to talk with her.

<><><><><>

Caleb: Hey. Did your uncle say anything to you?

Abigail: I can’t talk to you. He said. I don’t wanna get in trouble.

C: Can we meet up somewhere then? Talk about things? I still wanna be your friend.

A: I don’t wanna get in trouble.

C: Abigail!! You won’t get caught. It’s fine. You need to talk to someone.

A: They’re taking me back to therapy

C: Dr. Crosswel?

A: No a private one.

C: Oh. Well  I mean that’s good I guess. But can’t we still talk?

A: I SAID NO

C: Can’t we still be friends?

A: I need to sleep Caleb. It’s been a long day. I’m afraid I’m gonna have nightmares

C: It’s only seven? I haven’t even eaten dinner yet.

A: Long day. I need to sleep. Gnight.

C: I want to be your friend!