Zane's Nervous

by Zane

  My stack of buttermilk pancakes and turkey sausage were delicious. I could get used to country cooking; although we did have the chicken and waffle place owned by Gladys Knight and Ron Winan back in Atlanta.

  Flower grew visibly excited when she spotted two little girls going down the sidewalk on scooters. “Daddy, there’s Susan and Becky,” she said, pointing out the window. “Can I go play with them?”

  “What about the rest of your food?” Daddy asked, gesturing toward Flower’s plate of silver dollar pancakes and bacon.

  “I’m full,” she announced and started rubbing her belly.

  Daddy and I both chuckled because we knew she was lying. Her sudden loss of appetite could only be contributed to a better proposition: hanging out with friends.

  “Okay,” he said. “But you make sure you stay within sight.”

  “I will, Daddy.”

  Once Flower was outside playing with her friends, I said, “Tell me more about her mother. Allison, right?”

  “Yes. Like I said, she’s just a friend. She was widowed a while back and it depressed her to the point that she was suicidal. That made two of us so we comforted each other to prevent the inevitable.”

  “Daddy, you wouldn’t really kill yourself?”

  “At one point, I seriously considered it. I’d lost everything that ever mattered to me, all based on the lies of one slut that I wish I could get my hands on for five seconds.”

  I didn’t want to rehash that incident so I changed the topic. “How do you like living in the country? It’s a big change from the city.”

  He shrugged. “I grew up here so it was just a matter of becoming reacclimated to the environment.”

  “And you have?”

  “Well, now that I have Flower, I could never leave.” He pushed his plate away and folded his hands in front of him. “I already deserted one daughter. I won’t desert another one.” There was a pregnant pause before he added, “Jonquinette, why did you really come here?”

  I took my paper napkin and patted my eyes, fighting back tears. “Because I need your help, Daddy.”

  He stood up, put some money on the table and reached for my hand. “Let’s go.”

  I started fumbling through my purse. “No, I said it was my treat.”

  “Jonquinette Pierce,” he said with authority. “After all these years, the least thing you can allow a man to do is purchase a meal for his daughter. I do have some pride left.”

  I forced a smile. “I wasn’t implying that you couldn’t afford it, Daddy.”

  “I know. Let’s just go.”

  Flower wasn’t ready to leave so Daddy asked a mother of one of the other girls if she could stay and play. She agreed and said she would drop Flower off at home later that evening on the way to Bingo Night at the union hall.

  • • •

  When we got back to Daddy’s house, I was cheerful but dreading to be alone with him at last. There was so much to say and no place to begin.

  Once we were seated across from each other at his dining-room table with two glasses of orange juice, he asked me, “This is about the episodes you used to have as a child, right?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “They’re still occurring?”

  “Yes, but they’ve gotten worse.”

  He took a deep breath and clamped his eyes shut. “How so?”

  “Oh, Daddy. There’s no easy way to say this so I’ll just come out with it. I don’t think I’m alone.”

  “You’re not alone,” he said. “You have a mother who loves you, family members who love you, and you have me. I would lay down my life for you.”

  I shook my head. “You’re not following me. You know how you keep saying that you didn’t have anything to do with that woman?”

  “I didn’t have anything to do with her,” he insisted.

  “And you know how no one believed you back then?”

  “Don’t remind me,” he hissed. “They still don’t believe me but I hope you do.”

  I nodded. “I can’t explain what happened and why that woman showed up there that day but if you say you didn’t have any involvement with her, I believe you.”

  He slapped his hands together. “Thank goodness. I would never do anything to harm you and your momma, baby.”

  “I believe you,” I repeated. “Now you have to believe me when I say—”

  “When you say . . . ?”

  “I honestly never did any of those things. I know you think I was doing them and just not owning up to them. That I had some sort of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde personality but that wasn’t it. I had another personality altogether.”

  He was stumped. “Come again?”

  “Daddy, when I say I’m not alone, I mean that I’ve come to realize that another person lives within me.”

  “Another person lives within you,” he slowly repeated my words.

  “Yes.”

  “And who is this person?”

  I could tell he couldn’t grasp it, simply by the look on his face and the way the words slurred out of his mouth.

  “I don’t know who she is. I just know that I have these blackouts and when I come back, so to speak, things have changed, people are accusing me of things I never did, I’m wearing clothes I never put on, things are misplaced or moved around my apartment when there was never anyone else there. The list just goes on and on.” I didn’t want to get into the sex thing with Daddy. No woman feels comfortable talking about sex with her father. Even though I realized everything would have to come out eventually, I wasn’t prepared to deal with that part yet. Not with Daddy.

  “Jonquinette, listen to me carefully,” Daddy said. “You need to get immediate help. I tried to tell your mother this years ago, but she didn’t want to hear it. If you need me to, I’ll call someone for you. I’ll go back to Atlanta with you; whatever it takes.”

  I reached across the table and took his hand. It was trembling, or maybe it was my hand that was actually wobbly. “I already found someone, Daddy. She’s the one who suggested I reach out to you.”

  “A doctor?” he asked.

  “Yes, a psychiatrist.” I nodded. “Her name’s Dr. Marcella Spencer and she’s wonderful, Daddy. I really think she can help me but I can’t face all of this without you and Momma.”

  “Does you mother know you’re seeing a doctor?” he asked.

  “No, but she’s about to find out. I’m sick of secrets.”

  “So you want me to come to Atlanta?”

  “Yes, but not until I have a chance to talk to Momma about it.”

  He smirked. “Good luck. Meredith probably won’t be able to stand occupying the same room with me.”

  I knew he was right. “Then she’ll have to get over it. Momma means well but she’s self-centered and it’s time for her to consider people other than herself. The two of you are my parents and, while I am grown, I still need you both.”

  Daddy and I spent the remainder of the day discussing the past: the good, the bad, and the ugly. When Flower came home close to dusk, we lightened up and headed for the front porch for a night of joking around on the swing.

  The next day I went to church with them and cried like a baby the entire time. I hoped that I didn’t scare Flower but she seemed to understand that I was cleansing my soul. Oftentimes, children identify with things better than adults.

  After joining the parishioners in the church hall for their routine Sunday potluck dinner that started directly after church, I said my good-byes, told Daddy I would be in touch shortly, hugged Flower and wished I could take her with me, and headed out of town.

  When I arrived back in Atlanta, hunger had reared its ugly head, so I stopped by a deli to get a chicken Caesar salad. I checked my messages and there were several from Momma, three from Mason, and one frantic one from Marcella stating that she needed to talk to me right away and that I could call her at home if it was after hours. She left her home number but it was late and I was drained. I had an appointment with her th
e following afternoon so I decided to wait, get some rest, and get ready to deal with Mr. Wilson and his demands the next morning.

  26

  jonquinette

  All the next day, I was anxious to get through my workload so I could make a beeline for Marcella’s office. I even called to see if I could come in an hour earlier than normal and her secretary said it would be fine.

  When I got there, I couldn’t stop talking about how wonderful it was to see my father. She sat there and studied me hard and I was confused that she wasn’t saying anything in response.

  After I had filled her in, including telling her all about Flower, my wonderful little sister, she finally cleared her throat and said, “That’s extraordinary news. I’m glad you and your father have reconciled because you’re really going to need him in the months ahead.”

  I didn’t like the way she phrased it. “What do you mean?”

  “Did you get my phone message?” she asked.

  “Yes, I got it last night but I didn’t want to bother you at home so late on a Sunday evening.”

  “You can call me anytime, Jonquinette. As a therapist, I recognize that my patients often need me outside of standard office hours. There are some doctors that refuse to deal with patients during late evenings or the weekends. I’m not one of them. To me, that shows a lack of true dedication on their part.”

  “Thanks for saying that. I appreciate it.”

  “No need for thanks. Like I said, it’s all a part of my profession.” She got up from her desk. “Jonquinette, it’s such a pretty day for late September. Why don’t we take a walk?”

  “You mean, leave the office,” I said uneasily.

  She giggled. “Yes, I think the fresh air might help.”

  Her remark about “fresh air” tickled me. After just returning from the pure country air of Trinity, the smog, fumes, and litter of downtown Atlanta didn’t seem too alluring to me.

  I got up anyway. “Sure, that would be nice.” I glimpsed at the wall clock. “But my hour is almost up.”

  “That’s not a problem and don’t worry about paying for extra time. I wouldn’t even consider accepting it.”

  “Don’t you have another patient?”

  “No, I don’t. My boyfriend wanted to do dinner tonight but we can make it a late one.”

  That was the first time I had heard Marcella refer to her personal life. I was always curious about what made her tick. I knew she didn’t wear a wedding ring but that didn’t mean she wasn’t married. Numerous people don’t wear their rings. Some misplace them accidentally and some misplace them on purpose. Since she said she had a boyfriend, that answered that question.

  We ended up walking around the block several times. I was concerned that someone might eavesdrop on our discussion, not that they knew who we were. There was a statue in a community park and I asked if we could sit on a secluded bench nearby. She graciously agreed. There were some older gentlemen playing chess on the other side of the statue but they couldn’t possibly hear us so I felt secure.

  No sooner had we sat down when she blurted it out. “Jonquinette, I met her.”

  “Met who?”

  “Jude?”

  “Who’s Jude?”

  “Jude is one of your other personalities. She’s the one that I suspect has been doing all those things. She admitted as much.”

  I was clueless about what to say. I just sat there and attempted to let Marcella’s words sink in. Jude!

  It felt so strange to ask the next question. “So what did she say to you, Marcella?”

  “Basically, that she was your protector and that if not for her, you would’ve perished long ago.”

  “She said that?”

  “Yes, that and much more. She said that she controlled you and that if she wanted to, she could take over full-time and never let you return.” Marcella took my hand. “Don’t worry. I don’t believe she can actually do that for a second.”

  “But what if she can?” I asked in alarm. “What if she can make me totally fade away?”

  The thought of just falling asleep, or blacking out one day, and ceasing to exist was more frightening than death. I had always had this trepidation of becoming a vegetable due to an accident or sudden illness and that was more dreadful than anything I could envision.

  “Jonquinette, if there was any doubt before, there is none now. You’re definitely suffering from MPD.”

  “What does that stand for?”

  “Multiple Personality Disorder.”

  I jumped up from the bench and started pacing right along with the pigeons. “This can’t be happening. Not now. Not when I think that I’ve finally found someone. Someone I could actually open up to.”

  “Are you referring to Mason?”

  I blushed. “Yes, I mean Mason. He and I went out on a date.”

  “Was that your first date?” Marcella asked. “With Mason, I mean.”

  “That was my first date period,” I readily divulged.

  “And how did it go?”

  “He kissed me.”

  “Did you kiss him back?”

  “Yes, and that wasn’t the first time. He and I had kissed once before. He had invited me to a wedding, but I didn’t get the note he’d taped to my door. Darnetta, a friend from the office, had asked me to go to the same exact wedding with her. Crazy happenstance, huh?”

  Marcella nodded. “Quite remarkable.”

  “Anyway, we both ended up there. He was the best man. At the reception we danced and then the groom needed to talk to him. I sat back down at the table and then . . . ”

  “Then what?”

  I sat back down beside her and groaned. “I don’t remember. This Jude person must have taken over somehow. The next thing I knew I was at home and Mason was banging at my door. He mentioned something about me becoming ill at the reception and leaving without telling him.”

  “How did that make you feel? To have him standing there recounting things you couldn’t remember?”

  “It scared the living daylights out of me,” I replied. “I really want things to work out with Mason, but how, in all fairness, can I even date him again?”

  Marcella put her arm around my shoulder and embraced me. “We’re just going to have to take this one day at a time, just like everyone else. That’s the only way you can really face life; trying to deal with too many things at once makes you overwhelmed. We have to take care of the moment and then move on to the next. We can’t always worry about what is to come.”

  I pulled away from her so I could gaze into her eyes. “That may be true in most cases and I understand perfectly what you’re trying to say. But I have to worry about what is to come. If this Jude is threatening to take over my entire life, how can we stop her?”

  “With treatment,” Marcella answered. “Treatment and a lot of faith, hope, and love.”

  “Let me ask you this. What did Jude say about having sex?”

  Marcella eyed me uneasily. “She mentioned it.”

  “And?” I pried.

  “Apparently, Jude views sex, or rather the art of seduction, as some sort of power. She admitted that she’s slept with numerous men.”

  “How many men?” I demanded to know, raising my voice.

  Marcella just shook her head. “She didn’t say.”

  I buried my face in my hands and cried for what seemed like an eternity.

  After I had shed enough tears for one day, we sat and talked for another hour. Then Marcella went off in one direction to meet her boyfriend at a local restaurant after calling him on his cell phone and I went off in the other, fearful that I might not ever see her again. That night, I was almost too petrified to fall asleep but mental exhaustion finally prevailed.

  jude

  Disciplinarians thrive under chaos! Bring it on, bitches!

  27

  jude

  I was just about to head out that Friday night to blow off some steam and find an unsuspecting victim to fuck. Jon had come straight home fro
m the office, like she had done all that week since her little heart-to-heart with that bitch doctor in the park. On one hand, I was mad that the cat was out of the bag, so to speak. On the other hand, I was glad. It was about damn time that I got my props for all of my deeds, at least the good ones.

  It was true that if not for me, Jon wouldn’t have been able to fuction in reality. I had always been there to look after her when bullshit reared its ugly head. As for the other stuff, that was my business. Either way, I was confident that I was the gatekeeper. No one and nothing could make me go away.

  While I was switching purses—the one Jon had carried to work was hideous—a knock came at the door. I tiptoed over to the peephole and glimpsed out. Shit! It was Mason.

  “Jonquinette, are you in there?” he yelled through the door. “Jonquinette?”

  Enough of this motherfucker, I thought. Time to put the little puppy out of his misery.

  I flung the door open and sneered at him. “What do you want?”

  He was taken aback by my attitude. “Um, it’s Friday night and I thought we might take in a movie. Remember that I’m supposed to take you to a movie, a play, and a museum all within a month. Well, time is running out and I’m always a man of my word.”

  He stood there grinning while I pouted.

  “So, how about it?”

  “How about not!” I lashed out. “I don’t want to go to a damn movie with you! Not tonight or any other night, for that matter!”

  “Jonquinette, what’s gotten into you? Did I do something wrong?”

  I clucked my tongue and rolled my eyes.

  “Did you get the phone messages I left for you?”

  “I was out of town, visiting that bastard daddy of mine.”

  Mason was bewildered. “I don’t understand why you’re acting like this. I didn’t know you were back in contact with your father.”

  “Maybe that’s because it’s none of your fucking business?” I put my hands on my hips. “And, for the record, I’m not acting. This is the real me, so deal with it or get to stepping.”

  He just stood there looking brainless so I was about to slam the door in his face. He blocked it with his hand and asked, “Why are you doing this?”