When I Was Not Myself



  When I Was Not Myself

  Copyright © 2015 Christine Jayne Vann All rights reserved.

  Discover other titles by Christine Jayne Vann:

  When Disconnected

  Tacenda

  Unravelling

  Social Stories: Visual stories for children on the autistic spectrum

  When I Was Not Myself

  The children darted around like tadpoles, always moving. In the warm outdoor pool, they dived and splashed with joyful shouts, the adults having long since abandoned them, sitting to one side and casting occasional, anxious looks at the lifeguard.

  Tall, muscled and dark-skinned the lifeguard did not seem at all worried about the boisterous children. In fact she watched with a bored look, mind elsewhere. The parents looked offended, as if their own unease should spill into every other adult.

  “Enough! I don’t like that!” a young boy spluttered, as a small girl with soaked, flattened curls poured water over him from a blue teapot.

  “How do you know?” The girl demanded, and the others took up the chant.

  “How do you know? how do you know? who are you today?”

  A short man with thinning hair turned to the tall man sitting next to him, legs dangling into the cold water of the pool. “I’ll never get used to this.”

  The other man smiled. “Maybe you should try. My mum contacted Metanoia after dad died. It really helped!”

  “I can understand that.” The first man answered. “That’s like a holiday from grief I guess. But this, just for the heck of it?”

  An older child, thin and near a teen, shot out of the water in front of them. “And why the heck not?” he bellowed, eyes squinting at them. “You are pretty fuzzy!” he said. “I reckon one of those pairs of glasses on the side must be mine! I’m almost a mole!”

  He swam off before they could answer and the first man laughed. “Is that one yours?”

  “Sssh!” the taller man laughed, not answering. “Don’t spoil it for them!”

  With a smile, the taller man left the poolside, leaving Danial alone, ears full of a joyful cacophony of playing children that he’d usually avoid. He rested his hand against his neck as he struggled to contain his unease. He wondered what it would be like to not even remember his own name. To be stripped of his identity and boundaries, and just be free.

  It was easier for kids, far less to forget.

  He loved his little family, red-haired twin girls. They slid down the slides in tandem each time, sometimes slithering on their bellies, other times reaching across to hold hands. The sun glanced across their pale shoulders, sparkling across the deep blue of the water.

  Being identical made it much easier for his girls, even without their memories. “Not fair!” another girl shouted at the beginning. “They get a head start!”

  “Twins!” his daughters had declared as soon as life came back into their eyes. They teased the others as they tried to piece together the clues of their identities. Items lay scattered on the tables, little puzzle pieces that the children had been allowed to paw through.

  His daughters, Laurel and Nina, linking arms and laughing together was a beautiful and rare sight. They were just shy of eight, and behaved like a pair of raging competitive tigers when they were together. It was exhausting.

  At the opposite end of the pool Danial caught sight of a group of older adults approaching, the low murmur of their voices very different to the jubilant shouts of the children. They moved with small, careful steps, bent and twisted bodies with thistledown hair.

  A handful of carers guided them in, offering support where needed. They climbed down the ladder where they were greeted by a Metanoia counsellor. She wore a yellow t-shirt over her bathing suit, water lapping against a thick waist. She smiled at them all, greeting them without names.

  Once all were in the pool, the older adults began singing. They kept a safe distance away from the wild play of the children. Raising thin arms, they sang, shuffling round in a circle. He’d heard the song before. When I Was Not Myself.

  The older adults sang in thin, clear voices, uncaring of who listened. They looked all around them, sharing their happiness without expectations. The lack of memories could not restore youth, yet their faces held the same open expression as the children. The lines had washed away from their faces, and the burdens lifted. It was as if they no longer carried the weight of their decisions.

  Or mistakes. Danial’s fingers curled into a fist as he thought over the process. Metanoia was new, and secretive. Now old enough to make an informed decision, at least for such a brief session, his girls had begged for permission for months. Danial wished he’d been privy to more of the meetings. Long hours and an unsympathetic boss left him stranded at his desk for most.

  His partner, Azra, did the process at work before she would agree for their children. She’d come back bisexual and been annoyed at his lack of understanding. “I always was, don’t you see?” she answered. “It’s an acknowledgement, not a change!”

  He didn’t understand, but he loved her so he’d done his best to learn. She’d caught him reading various texts on sexuality and laughed. “Why don’t you ask me? It’s not like there is a single answer!”

  It scared him, as if she’d come back a different person. He didn’t want to discover what lurked in the depths of his own mind, if he took away all the barriers keeping dark thoughts away. Would he remember to be a good person? What if people needed those weights to keep them grounded?

  Azra disagreed, she’d say people should fly, every time.

  He wanted the girls to be freer than he was.

  A large girl with shy brown eyes leapt off the edge right in front of him. Water cascaded over him, soaking his clothes and hair. The water was freezing against his sun warmed skin, the strong tang of chlorine filling his mouth, choking him. His eyes stung painfully as he leapt backwards.

  As the girl resurfaced and saw him spluttering her eyes widened. “Sorry!” she said, her voice full of panic. “I didn’t mean to do that! I forgot!”

  “Don’t worry!” Danial said, squeezing the water out of his jacket as more trickled down his back. He would not be angry. It was his own fault. They were children. “I’m fine!”

  The girl ducked her head in acknowledgement, forgetting her remorse in seconds. She swam off underwater, brown hair fanning out behind. She joined a group of older children improvising a game of water polo. Not the easiest, without a net.

  Danial gave up trying to wring out his jacket. He slung it over his damp arm and approached the fire pit his partner tended. Large round flat stones encircled it, perfect for seating. Packets of meat and halloumi covered the nearest stone.

  Azra laughed as Danial squished his way across the long grass.

  “Dry this off for me?” He asked, shaking the jacket at her. Drops of water flew off and she flinched.

  “Or you could!” Azra said, her dark eyes crinkling in amusement. A few strands of long black hair escaped her braid to frame her face, curling across her smooth cheek. “Place it on one of the stones, near the fire.”

  He placed the jacket in a patch of sunlight on one rock and stood by the fire pit. His hair was already drying although the extra heat was welcome. Parents stood in small groups watching the children, plenty of them holding an alcoholic drink. He wished he had one.

  Some of the people passing by seemed even more confused than Danial. A middle-aged couple with a small brown dog paused to watch the singing adults, before heading away with an awkward glance backwards. Metanoia was not well known.

  Azra’s experience convinced him, almost. Everyone who went under kept their feelings, their sense of humour, and personality. Memories were picked clean, the rules and experiences
that they used to define themselves removed but leaving the core identity.

  His girls suffered more than most, always taken as a pair as if their identities could never be untangled. It was sad to see how this changed them, their interests in something blossoming because the other did not share it. Or rejected because they did.

  “I’m a half!” one had complained. He realised he wasn’t sure who.

  The small dog halted at the poolside. Heedless of the shouting owners, it padded along the edge and barked at the children. It paused to lick the splashed water along the stoney edges and sniff a few overgrown plants. A brown-skinned young boy with short hair swam over to the dog. He spoke friendly words, reaching out a slim arm, but the animal deftly avoided the wet hand.

  The couple approached and took the dog away, scolding. They passed the tall man from earlier, who walked up to the fire pit with his face split into a large grin. His eyes were bright with relief. “Did you see? That’s my one, and he’s scared of dogs!”

  “Good work!” Danial answered. Growing bored, the boy swam off and snatched a teapot from a small girl. She tried to retrieve it but lost interest, diving to the bottom of the pool. The outlines of the children were murky, a rippling image of bodies far below. The man’s eyes never left them, although he kept speaking.

  “This is brilliant!” The man said, brushing dark hair back behind his ear and exposing a sunburnt neck. “I didn’t expect any of