the binge-and-purge cycle
that my alter and I seem to have shared.
Speaking of bingeing, I’m starving.
“You eat. I’ll throw it up. You’d be
a regular oinker if not for me.”
They weren’t really worried about
kidney disease. Carol just used
that as an excuse to keep me here.
“She’s a real pal. What she’s really
after is dissecting our psyche.”
If I let her into my head, maybe she
can make you frigging disappear.
I’m sick of listening to you.
“Well, then, you go away and let me out.
I want to play. And I need to get high.”
I want so much to talk to Carol.
But I’m not even sure where to begin.
Drug abuse. Alcohol. Bulimia…
“Don’t forget that lovely bit about
shaving until you slice yourself open.”
And that’s the easy stuff. Promiscuity.
Dissociative identity disorder. And
the granddaddy of all—fucking Daddy.
“More accurately, letting Daddy
fuck you and keeping it to yourself.”
Even if I tell her every bit of it,
there’s no guarantee she can fix me.
Suicide sounds better and better.
“Yeah, but you’d have to get it right.
Or maybe, just leave that to me.”
What Do I Have to Live For?
Can’t think of a single thing.
Mom? A long-distance mother
focused completely on herself.
Friends? Not a single one I’ve
allowed myself to get close to.
School? Can’t stomach the thought
of seeing Old Man Lawler again.
Drama? Oh well, that’s what
understudies are for, right?
Boyfriend? Don’t make me
laugh. I’d much rather cry.
“Hey, you can’t really blame him.”
I Can’t Blame Ian at All
He’s solid.
“You’re fractured.”
He’s hopeful.
“You’re hopeless.”
He’s always there.
“You’re half there.”
He’s faithful.
“You’re so not.”
He’s giving.
“You’re afraid to give.”
He’s honest.
“You lie all the time.”
He’s loving.
“You don’t know how to love.”
But I Do Know What Love Is
And all because of Ian.
I’m still not sure how
to give it, but I’ve tasted
it. Maybe that’s enough.
Maybe that’s more than
some people ever get.
Maybe I really need
to taste it right now.
I haven’t let myself break
down and weep in a very
long time. Could never see
much use in it, really.
Tears impress no one. But,
oh yeah, there’s no one
here to impress. So I go
ahead and let tears fall.
Rain. Storm. Flood. My
pillow soaks with the salt
of regret, and I rest my
head against it, until…
Someone’s in My Room
I wake, certain of it. It’s early
evening, and the room is pale
and the soft perfume of roses
drifts from the nightstand.
Hey. How are you feeling?
I think it can’t be, but when
I turn my head, it’s Ian’s face
I see. The tears start up again
immediately. “Better now.”
I should have come sooner, but…
He stands, comes over, sits
on the bed, gently brushes
“It’s okay.” He’s here now.
No. I should have been here for you.
He opens his arms and I drop
into their circle. “Oh God,
Ian, I’m so sorry. I don’t know
what to tell you, where to begin….”
Don’t. Not now. Just let me hold you.
Must Be a Dream
But if it is, I need to stay
locked inside it forever.
I can’t believe he’s here.
I can’t believe he still loves
me, but my heart says he does.
“Oh, Ian. I love you so much.
I’m so sorry I ever hurt you.
If you give me time, help me
get well and strong, I promise
to make everything up to you.”
He’s quiet for a long time.
Finally he says, I don’t know
exactly what’s wrong with you,
or with your life. It would be
easier to walk away, put you
and your pain behind me. I’ve had
days to think it over, and at first
that’s what I decided to do.
But I love you so much, the idea
of life without you in it is scarier
than trying to deal with this. I’ve
talked with Dr. Shore, who tells me
you’ve got a long road to recovery.
I don’t know if we can get
through this, but I want to try.
Okay, One Thing to Live For
And right now, one thing is enough.
I have to believe we can make it.
Without that, I have nothing at all.
One thing to live for. One day at a time.
It will not be easy to let him all the way in.
But if I can open up to anyone, it’s Ian.
Okay, maybe to Carol—Dr. Shore—first.
Then she can show me how to let him in.
One thing to live for. One day at a time.
Daddy will try to stand in the way.
So I have to push Daddy out of my way.
To do that, I need Ian’s strength behind me.
One thing to live for. One day at a time.
Daddy Comes to Pick Me Up
And all the courage I gathered overnight
dissipates like smoke in winter wind.
He hands me a paper bag. Clean clothes.
The ones you have here stink to high heaven.
Dutifully I go into the bathroom, slip into soft
blue velour. It should feel comforting. But…
When I emerge, Daddy is looking at Ian’s roses.
I hope he has enough sense to stay away.
Wrong! “Ian is the only good thing in my life.
Don’t you dare try to keep him away from me!”
Daddy’s stare is iron. I guess we’re lucky
you aren’t pregnant, aren’t we?
“Shut up! Ian and I never…Don’t you get
that love doesn’t have to be about sex?”
He stays in control, in case Carol is near.
Don’t you ever tell me to shut up again.
“Or what, Daddy? I won’t let you hurt me
anymore. I swear to God I’ll tell everything.”
He comes closer, lowers his voice. Go ahead.
Your word against mine. No one will believe you.
I will. The voice precedes a woman—
not quite familiar—through the door.
Daddy’s jaw drops. Mother! Dear God.
How did…what are you doing here?
Grandma Charlotte. Yes, I can almost
remember her face. Only it’s thinner,
her gray eyes clearer. And she smells
of expensive perfume. Not whiskey.
She draws near, reaches out one hand, but
doesn’t touch me. Kaeleigh. How
pretty you
are. So like your mother. Forgive my long
absence. And, please, forgive my silence.
Six Months
Since my grandmother re-entered
my life. Six months of relative
safety. Ha-ha. Forgive the pun.
I live with her now, in my parents’
postcard-pretty dwelling, coiffed
and manicured from curb to chimney.
Like me, it’s perfect on the outside.
But behind the Norman Rockwell facade,
I’m slowly coming to terms with our secrets.
That day in the hospital, Grandma
Charlotte confessed hers: I was too
young to be a mother, only sixteen.
Ted was not a bad man. When I got
pregnant, he did the right thing
and married me. But we came from
different places. I was a child of privilege,
he a sweet blue-collar man. He was my
rebellion. And when he couldn’t give
me the life I was used to, I fell into
addictions. Whiskey. Cigarettes. And,
to fight my depression, Prozac.
He cheated, yes, but that’s not why
I left. I left from utter boredom.
And I left your poor father behind.
Daddy winced, but continued to
listen. I wanted to know more.
I wanted to know everything.
Alcoholism is not a pretty thing,
and I was an ugly alcoholic.
I moved in with a string of men.
None wanted to deal with a drunk,
and eventually all of them showed
me the door. One time, I decided
I needed to find Ray, see how he
was doing. I tracked him to Santa
Barbara, a couple of years before
the accident. Your mother and he
seemed happy enough. Happy to
have two beautiful daughters.
I wanted to be part of your family,
even managed to clean up my act
so they’d let me spend time with you.
“So it was you who used to babysit
us. I remember we used to play
Monopoly and checkers, didn’t we?”
She nodded. It was a wonderful
time of my life. But then…
then the accident happened.
When Raeanne died, I only knew
one way to cope. I’m sorry,
Kaeleigh. You needed me.
But I needed Dewar’s to get me
through the funeral. Once I started
drinking again, I couldn’t stop.
I noticed Daddy’s fingers,
drumming the arm of his chair.
“But why did you go away?”
Grandma Charlotte glanced at
Daddy, whose drumming quickened.
We can talk about that later.
Turned Out
That part of the story helped
me make some major decisions.
That part of the story went like this:
I wanted to stay in your life, knew
you might need me. Your mother
was broken, your father cold as
the death of his daughter—the death
he most certainly caused. The death
none of us could really accept.
One day I came over and walked
in unannounced. I heard noise
in the bathroom, so stumbled back
to investigate, about three sheets
in the wind. I was drunk but not too
drunk to take in what was going on.
Your mother was gone, and your
father was washing you. Only the way
he was washing you was all wrong.
He was touching you in a sexual
way, Kaeleigh. I confronted him,
but he just laughed in my face.
“I’m a respected judge and you are
nothing more than a disgusting
drunk. Who would people believe?
I could take you down, Mother.
Will take you down. You made me
what I am. You and my father.”
He ordered me to leave, and I did.
In fact, I ran. Forgive me, Kaeleigh.
I should have kept you safe.
Instead I drank even more to forget.
I drank until one day I looked in
the mirror and saw death.
Getting sober once and for all
wasn’t easy. But I didn’t want
to die until I knew you were okay.
And I didn’t want to come back
into your life, needing Dewar’s
to cope with what I found.
I Forgave Her
She got sober for me. Besides,
Daddy played the same card
with me, and I believed him, too.
Anyway, Carol says the only way
to get past all this is to forgive
who I can. Confront, and forgive.
Easier said than done. I want to
forgive Mom. But how can I when
she won’t say she’s sorry, or even
admit her role in this melodrama?
I did confront her. I asked how
she could have closed her eyes,
pretended nothing was wrong. She
turned it back on me. Why didn’t
you tell? Why didn’t you get help?
I hated her for a while. Now
I kind of feel sorry for her. When
Raeanne died, it emptied
every ounce of love from Mom’s
heart. Why couldn’t she save
just a spoonful—for me?
Drained Dry
Of love, she’s surviving fine
in DC. Comes home once in a while,
more because it’s expected of her
than to spend time with me.
I think I scare her. I mean, how
can she be certain which one
of me she’s spending time with?
Dissociative identity disorder
wasn’t even in her dictionary,
let alone on her radar.
Now that it’s on mine, I suppose
I’ll always do a double take
whenever I happen to pass
by a mirror.
Except for Ian
No one at school knows
about the two sides of me.
Ian swore himself to secrecy.
Everyone else thinks I had
a mild case of viral meningitis.
Well, DID is a brain thing, after all.
I missed some school, but not
much, made it up quickly, so
I’m not really behind. At Carol’s
urging, I apologized to Mr. Lawler,
who gave me an A for the semester.
In fact, I managed a 3.5 GPA. All As.
Except PE. Can’t have everything.
Drama? The play went perfectly.
We brought ’em to their feet.
I still hate Madison, avoid her
when I can. But I don’t get in her
face. The game has lost its appeal.
I Cringe
If I see Ty or Mick, who I guess
walked until he found his truck
and never said a word to anyone.
Ty is the only other person who
might suspect DID. But there are
lots of reasons for him to keep quiet.
Carol has helped me understand
why I pushed myself into such explicit
sexual behavior. It was programmed
into me when I was very small.
Part of me hated it. Part of me
couldn’t help but enjoy it. Part.
I’m taking driver’s training.
When I’m ready, Grandma
Charlotte will sig
n for my license.
One cool thing. She and Grandpa
Ted are talking again. Not like they’re
dating, but at least they’re cordial.
I still work at the old folks’ home,
but only one day a week, mostly
just to stay in touch with Greta.
She Is My Real Angel
And the only one who understands
the depth of Daddy’s deceptions.
Not even Carol knows firsthand
how it feels to be hurt in such a way
by someone who’s supposed to protect you.
Greta is the one who convinced me
I had to confront Daddy with every
ugly truth, had to force him out of my
life. If you don’t, you will never
begin to heal. And you can heal.
I didn’t want him to go to prison.
He probably would have pulled