Piece of My Heart

by Layce Gardner

  Jenna studied the wig surreptitiously. Was Liz-Melody actually trying to dress like Elizabeth Taylor from the movie Cleopatra? If the hair was real, that’d be one thing—just another weird hairstyle. But wig-wearing meant she changed her hairstyle to suit her current incarnation. And since it was a wig, did that mean she dressed up as other incarnations of Elizabeth Taylor? Was she going to be Maggie from Cat on a Hot Tin Roof tomorrow?

  Cindy popped in. “I know how you feel. My therapist insists I have a congenital obsession with juice. She got me to try juice boxes but that seemed like a waste of a tree in its one time use. Plastic sippy cups are eternal.” She hugged the cup to her bosom.

  Jenna looked over at Dale. Jenna narrowed her eyes and sent Dale a message that said, “These aren’t doozies. These women are cray-cray.” Dale smiled and widened her eyes. Her expression said, “Be nice. They paid good money for you to make them over.”

  “I’ll be right back,” Agnes said. She scurried from the room, closing the door behind her.

  “The ladies room is down the hall on the left,” Jenna called out. She hoped Dale made a note of Agnes’s abrupt leaving. Maybe she had an IBS problem.

  “I hope I didn’t offend her with my juice box comment. I mean, they’re all right for some people, just not for me. To each her own, I say. Different drummer and all that.” Cindy opened her purse and extracted three multi-colored balls. She squeezed and massaged them in her hands.

  “Well, while we wait for Agnes to return, why don’t we go around the room and talk about the kind of a person we’d enjoy dating,” Jenna said.

  “What if we don’t know what we’re looking for until we find it?” Liz-Melody asked. She swiped on another coat of bright red lipstick and smacked her lips on a tissue that had several red lip marks on it already.

  “Well...you’re right. Maybe instead of concentrating on what kind of partner we want, we should be thinking about what kind of partner we would like to be,” Jenna said. She felt like she was treading water and getting close to going under. She looked to Dale for help. Dale only nodded her encouragement and made a ‘keep-going’ gesture with her hand.

  Jenna took a deep breath and said, “Like attracts like, you know. Perhaps if we become what we want in a partner, that partner will manifest herself to us.”

  “I want somebody who isn’t judgmental. Somebody who doesn’t infantilize me because of my cup,” Cindy said. “I’d like someone who understands me, the real me, the whys and hows of me.” She put one of the balls down and took a long pull on her sippy cup.

  Jenna wondered if Cindy had been breast fed as an infant. Probably not. Hence the obsession with sucking on the sippy cup.

  Liz-Melody nodded. “I know exactly what she means. I really think we are undergoing a process here at She-She with Jenna as our guide.” She turned her violet-colored eyes on Jenna. “I put my full trust in you.”

  Both women stared at Jenna. They seemed to be waiting for her to say something enlightening. Jenna cleared her throat and offered, “Yes, well, finding a loving partner is a very important step along life’s path toward ultimate self-realization.” Luckily, her speech was cut short by the reentrance of Agnes.

  Only Agnes no longer looked like Agnes. The gray outfit was gone. She was now wearing a red sequined dress, matching come-fuck-me pumps, and full-on makeup. She looked like a high-class call girl.

  Agnes slinked across the room and put out her hand for Jenna to shake. “I don’t believe we’ve met. My name is Naomi.”

  Shocked, Jenna politely shook her hand and uttered, “It’s very nice to meet you, Naomi. What happened to Agnes?”

  “Who knows? Probably off buying some gray panties,” Naomi said. “So, what’s everyone talking about?” She sat in the chair Agnes had vacated. Her dress hiked up her silky thigh and she didn’t bother to adjust it. “Are we discussing what type of lovers we want? You notice I used the plural. Lovers. I want to get laid a lot. I want to have oodles and oodles of girlfriends. Preferably ones that don’t know about each other. Suffice it to say, I am not a one-woman woman. Monogamy bores me. Say, do you think I could get a martini?”

  “Uh…” Jenna said. She was still processing the abrupt change from Agnes to Naomi.

  Dale jumped in. “We don’t have any liquor. It seems to get people off task. We stick to the lesser stimulants like coffee,” she said, pointing at the coffee decanter sitting on the table.

  “How excruciatingly dull. But all right, coffee it is,” Naomi said. She leaned back in her chair, waiting for a cup to be poured and handed to her.

  Cindy, whose eyes had not left Naomi since her entrance, poured her a cup. “Cream or sugar?” she asked, her voice cracking with nervousness.

  “Neither, darling. I take mine straight, hard, and black.” She leaned across the table, accepting the coffee, and giving everyone a generous eyeful of her breasts.

  After a sip and an appreciative moan of pleasure, Naomi noticed the balls in Cindy’s lap and said, “I love a woman with balls.” She took another sip of coffee. “Of course, most of us only have the mental kind.” She uncrossed her legs, grabbed her crotch, and gave it a tender squeeze. “I have balls, but I don’t have them sitting in my lap.” She put her coffee cup down and asked, “Why do you have three?”

  “I juggle,” Cindy said.

  “You work in the circus?” Naomi asked.

  “No, I work as a software programmer,” Cindy said. She tossed the balls in the air while remaining seated and began to juggle. She threw the balls higher, but still managed to keep them under perfect control. “I juggle when I get stressed.”

  Naomi swung her leg over the chair’s arm. Her red panties pointed straight at Jenna who did her best not to stare at them and failed.

  “So, Naomi,” Jenna said, “we were just getting started. Tell us, what are you looking for in a woman? Or womans. I mean, women.”

  “I want a lover that likes to party and have sex until the morning light. I’m looking for fast and light. Can’t seem to find any of those, that’s why I’m here.”

  “Well, that’s a good start,” Jenna said. She looked over at Cindy who was still juggling. “How about you, Cindy?”

  “She wants a lion tamer in the circus,” Naomi said. “Grrr.” She swiped her hand in Cindy’s direction like it was a giant paw.

  Cindy flinched and one of the balls veered off toward Dale. Dale had good reflexes and ducked right before the ball nailed her in the face.

  “Sorry about that,” Cindy apologized. She leapt up and retrieved her ball.

  “It’s okay,” Dale said, sweetly.

  Jenna tried to regain control of the meet and greet session. “And you, Liz, what are you looking for?”

  “Ideally?”

  Jenna nodded.

  “Ideally, I want a movie buff who adores Elizabeth Taylor’s movies,” Liz-Melody said.

  “Well, I can certainly see the likeness in you, Liz. You might be just a touch over the top on the Liz Taylor thing, but it’s not a bad look on you,” Naomi said. An alarm sounded from deep in her cleavage. She dug her phone out and looked at it. She pushed a button that ended the buzzing.

  Naomi stood. She placed the phone back between her sizeable tits and said, “My time’s up. I have to go. It was nice meeting everyone.” She pranced from the room, acutely aware that every eye was on her. She opened the door, turned, and blew a sexy kiss to Jenna. “Bye, bye.” And, just like that, she was gone.

  Cindy resumed juggling.

  “What the hell was that?” Liz-Melody said.

  “That is a really good question,” Jenna said. She looked over at Dale who appeared shell-shocked herself. Jenna mouthed the words ‘personality issues?’ and Dale nodded.

  Suddenly, the door opened and Agnes, once again dressed in all gray, popped her head in. “Tell me the truth, was Naomi horrible?”

  “Um... I prefer the word vivacious,” Jenna said.

  “Oh, good. I was worried,” Agnes said.


  “Why don’t you come join us again?”

  “I will.” She fidgeted. “In a minute.” She shut the door.

  Cindy juggled faster. She scooped a pen from the coffee table and added it to her juggling routine. Now she was juggling three balls and one ballpoint pen.

  You had to hand it to her, Jenna thought. She was proficient.

  Liz-Melody pulled a compact mirror from the purse, straightened her wig, and traced her pinky around her bottom lip, straightening the line of her lipstick.

  The door opened again. Another incarnation of Agnes strutted into the room. She was wearing a worn leather jacket, baggy jeans, a tight black T-shirt, and boots with silver tips on the pointed toes. She took off her leather jacket and swung it over the empty chair.

  She looked around the room and met everyone’s stare. “Hey. The name’s Mickey.” She slumped in the chair and man-spread her knees far apart and placed her elbows on both arms.

  Everyone stared at her open-mouthed. The transformation from Agnes to Naomi to Mickey was nothing short of remarkable. Mickey was sexy. Not in a Naomi way, but in a butch way. She simply oozed sex.

  Cindy juggled faster.

  Jenna sniffed the air. Mickey even smelled different. She was leaking some kind of manly pheromones. Something designed to attract unsuspecting, naïve women to her, no doubt.

  Mickey winked at Jenna. Uh-oh, Jenna thought. Mickey had caught her sniffing.

  Mickey turned her steely gaze to Dale and smiled lopsidedly. “Let me guess,” she said, pointing a long finger at Dale, “You’re married. And you still have sex.”

  Dale nodded and gulped. “That’s right,” she breathed.

  “Good for you,” Mickey said.

  Mickey looked around at the group. “And the rest of you don’t have sex.” She lowered her chin and grinned at Jenna. “Including you, Miss Head Honcho.”

  “Not true,” Jenna lied. “I had sex just last... week.” The reality was that it had been almost ten months since Jenna had had sex with anyone but herself—ever since Lee had flown the coop and taken her libido with her.

  Mickey leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, and smiled at Jenna. “Do tell.”

  Jenna answered with a ready comeback. “This isn’t about me. We’re here to help you.” She sounded just like one of the many therapists she had seen over the years. At least her money had been good for something.

  Mickey leaned back in the chair and chuckled. “Oh, sure. Lay all the piss and moan stuff on us. I’ll tell you what’s wrong here.” She pointed at Cindy. “You juggle inappropriately. That’s super-weird.” She pointed at Liz-Melody. “You have some sort of Liz Taylor fetish. Also, ultra-weird.” Next, Mickey pointed at Jenna. “And you’re still hung up on your ex.” Mickey raised one eyebrow and added, “There. We got it all sorted out. Stop doing those things and you’re golden.”

  Cindy grabbed a Thirstystone coaster and added it to her juggling. Now, she had five things going at once.

  Dale jumped up and said, “I suggest we go to step two: A group dinner. We can establish a, you know, a baseline. Then, perhaps, we can work towards trimming down some of our more acute idiosyncrasies.”

  “I concur,” Jenna said, standing also. “Let’s set up a time, place, and date for this next week. What’s good for everyone?”

  “Dinner’s no good for me. I don’t do dinner. Agnes won’t let me. She says I’ve got terrible table manners,” Mickey said.

  “Agnes won’t let you?” Jenna asked.

  “Yeah. She’s the main personality. I’m just a lowly alter. So’s Naomi. We have to do what Agnes says. Unless she’s sleeping or something. Then I’m free-range Mickey.” She winked lasciviously at Jenna.

  “Like what?” Jenna asked.

  “Like what what?” Mickey asked.

  “You said you had terrible table manners,” Jenna said.

  “Oh, yeah. You know, the usual. Elbows on the table, wiping my mouth with my hand, and I hold my fork like a truck driver. I can’t seem to break off doing it. Nobody taught me any different. Growing up, my ma was always waiting tables at the truck stop, so I did all my eating on a TV tray watching old reruns of the The Twilight Zone.” She shrugged. “I do much better in a carnival atmosphere. Can’t go wrong with cotton candy, and I get to show off my prowess with midway games. I’m killer at the duck shooting with water guns. I win every time. Chicks dig that kind of thing.”

  “I love the carnival,” Cindy said, still juggling.

  “Me, too!” Liz-Melody said.

  “See?” Mickey said. “Proves my point.”

  “There’s a carnival coming to the Fairgrounds this weekend,” Liz-Melody said. “Can we go?”

  The three women looked expectantly at Jenna.

  Dale and Jenna looked at each other. They shrugged in unison, and then Jenna said to the group, “Okay. We’ll go to the carnival.”

  “Awesome,” Mickey said. “Okay, I gotta jet. Agnes gets her panties in a wad if I’m out too long.” Mickey stood. As she sauntered by Cindy she snagged the pen out of the juggling rotation. All the juggling items crashed to the ground. “I’m telling you, sister, you gotta stop the juggling crap. No one wants to date a juggler.” She walked out.

  “She should talk,” Cindy said. “She’s weirder than all of us put together.” She got up and collected all the fallen objects.

  “I dunno,” Liz-Melody said. “I kinda liked her animal magnetism. Reminded me of my ex, Richard Burton. Dumb as a box of rocks, but a real dynamo in the bedroom.”

  At that moment, the door opened again and Agnes, dressed again in her gray outfit, entered the room. Quiet as a whisper, she took her seat. She leaned against one arm, trying to take up as little space as possible.

  Before she could stop herself, Jenna asked, “Agnes? Just out of curiosity, are there any more of your friends we should meet?”

  “No, you’ve met all my alters. Thank heavens,” Agnes said. “You can see why I have trouble getting dates. Most people don’t understand DID.”

  “You have that thing that Sybil had? Multiple personalities?” Cindy asked.

  “It’s not called Multiple Personalities anymore,” Agnes explained. “It’s dissociative identity disorder. D. I. D. for short.”

  “I call it weird,” Liz-Melody said.

  “We don’t judge here,” Jenna said. “This is a safe place, remember?”

  “Sorry,” Liz-Melody said. “I didn’t mean to hurt anybody’s feelings. But you have to admit it is weird.” She scooted as far away from Agnes as the sofa would allow.

  “It’s not contagious,” Agnes said with a sniff.

  “How do you change so fast, if you don’t mind me asking?” Jenna asked.

  “Personalities?”

  “No, clothes. How do you change clothes so quickly?”

  “I used to be in theater. You learn to change fast,” Agnes said. “So, Mickey got her carnival idea passed in a group consensus?” Jenna nodded. Agnes shook her head. “Mickey always gets her way.”

  “I like the carnival,” Cindy said. She tossed the balls in the air and began juggling again.

  Liz-Melody snatched the balls out of the air one at a time and put them in Cindy’s lap. “Enough already. It’s making me nervous.”

  Chastised, Cindy folded her hands over her balls.

  “How did you know about the carnival?” Jenna asked Agnes. “You weren’t in the room when we discussed it.”

  Liz-Melody leaned forward. “Does that mean we can’t go? We voted and the carnival won. Agnes, or whoever she is, doesn’t get three votes, does she? That’s not fair. If she gets three votes then I should get three votes.”

  “That’s right. I want three votes, too,” Cindy said.

  “Hold on, hold on, ladies,” Jenna said. “One thing at a time, please.” She breathed deeply. These doozies were proving to be more than she could handle.

  Agnes said, “Mickey told me about the carnival. The three of us talk, thank goodness, because otherwis
e I’d have no control over either of them.”

  “So, you control them?” Jenna asked. “You control when they take over the body?”

  “I usually switch personalities when I get stressed. Or certain cues trigger a personality change. I guarantee you Mickey will be the personality the night of the carnival.”

  “I liked Mickey better than you,” Liz-Melody said.

  Jenna shot her a warning look, but Agnes only shrugged. “Most people do. Mickey and Naomi get to do all the fun stuff. I have to do all the dull stuff like work and clean house and cook. I’d be set if I could find a girlfriend who liked getting a three-package deal.”

  “Exactly!” Jenna said. “I like your optimism. There’s somebody out there for all of us. Every pot has a lid. Remember, never say never.”

  “Isn’t that a James Bond film, Never Say Never?” Liz-Melody asked. “You know, I turned down the role of Octopussy.”

  “That’s nice,” Dale said. “I’m afraid we’re out of time for today. I’ll email each and every one of you the date and time to meet for the carnival, okay?”

  Jenna opened the door and smiled at each woman as they passed. “I think today went really well, ladies. We made a good start. I’m so excited to see where this takes us.” After they were all gone, Jenna shut the door and sighed heavily. “God, being upbeat sure is exhausting.”

  Dale collapsed in a chair and fanned herself with a manila file. “Tell me about it.”

  “That was a circus,” Jenna said. She walked over to the mini-fridge and opened it. She suddenly wished they had had the forethought to stock it with something stronger than bottled water.

  “Multiple personalities, a woman who thinks she’s Elizabeth Taylor, and a juggler,” Dale said. “All we’re missing is The Twilight Zone theme song.”

  “I dunno, the multiple personalities have real potential. It’s a pity Agnes the Gray is the main one,” Jenna said. “I’d date Mickey, no questions asked.”

  “You can’t date any of your clients.”

  “Why not?” Jenna grabbed two bottles of Fiji water from the fridge. She handed one bottle to Dale and slugged half the other bottle. She sat down on the sofa, kicked off her shoes, and propped her feet on the coffee table.