by Matthew Fish
Yours Forever,
Brain Metcalfe
Emma recoils as she reads the name on the love letter. “Fake life…”
“It is impressive what people will endure in order to protect a secret,” Elizabeth says as she places a hand upon Emma’s shoulder. “I’m sorry another discovery is one that brings you pain. I understand why you hid who you really were—after all, we learn by example.”
“These are all love letters,” Emma says she races through letter after letter. “They stop in 2001… That’s right after my father…”
“Left you and your mother…?”
“Yeah,” Emma says as she places down the box. “I don’t understand. If my father left, then why didn’t they run off together like some of these letters say? Why did my mother keep up the illusion that she enjoyed a poor life? None of this makes any sense.”
“Maybe he changed his mind,” Elizabeth adds as she picks up the metal box. “Maybe it was some sentimental sense of remorse, perhaps? People want something that they cannot have, and then when the chance comes to take it—they realize they do not want it anymore.”
“Then why didn’t she quit? Why didn’t she live the way she wanted to?”
“I’m just throwing out guesses,” Elizabeth says as she thumbs through some of the letters. “Your mother’s dream was to be a professional chef?”
“I had no idea,” Emma replies sadly. “Langford…”
“Your mother changed her name back after your father left,” Elizabeth says as though she has just put the thought together or has channeled the information from some mystical source.
“I don’t even remember my father’s last name?” Emma asks as tears stream down from her eyes. “How fucked up in the head am I? …Really? Why can’t I remember any of these things?”
“Maybe in time…”
“I can’t deal with any of this. It doesn’t make any sense. None of it does. If they wanted to be together, why didn’t they—“
“Well technically, for years I think they were.”
“Not like that,” Emma says as she shakes her head and wipes away her tears with her short yellow sleeve. “My father abandoned us—why didn’t she just… do whatever?”
“Maybe she held up appearances for you. Maybe it was something that she planned on following through once you moved out. Then complications—“
“You mean I went fucking crazy.”
“I would put it a much nicer way,” Elizabeth says as she sets the box down on the bed and places her hand against Emma’s head and rubs her hair as though she is some kind of pet. “Maybe she felt that too much change would push you over the edge.”
“That means I would have had to have problems all the way since I was like…twelve?”
“It’s sad, but altogether possible,” Elizabeth says as she returns to the box and retrieves a letter at seemingly random.
“It looks like you’ve had problems in the past—however; they did not take you to get help. At least… not until you tried to kill yourself,” Elizabeth says, adding evidence to her theory that they kept their affair a secret in order to keep Emma’s life more balanced.
“Maybe I’m crazy now. Maybe I never stopped being crazy. I prevented my mother from being happy. All these years, and I never knew that she had aspirations of being anything other than what she was. She had an idea of how she wanted her life to be, but because of me…she died unhappy—she never pursued her dreams.”
“Do not treat yourself so harshly,” Elizabeth says as she slides out another letter. “Do not forget that their happiness would have caused pain to another family.”
“Ethan…” Emma says as she places her and over eyes. Her head hurts from the influx of all the new information that her mind attempts to process. “He was just going to walk out on his family…like my dad did.”
“He would have been in your shoes,” Elizabeth says as she nods in agreement. “He would have grown up without a father.”
“Do you think they were still together…all the way up until she died?”
“Only one person would have that answer,” Elizabeth says as she replaces the letter in the box and sets it down upon the bed. “You would have to ask him.”
“I can’t do that,” Emma protests as she gets to her feet and grabs the metal box from the bed. “I wish I would have never found this—what am I supposed to tell Ethan? How can I face him tonight and not even think about it? How can I just go in there and face his father and say, hey I found a box of love letters…”
“He is the only one who would have the answers,” Elizabeth says as she begins to walk out of the room.
Emma follows behind her, she shuts the door—the metal box tucked beneath her arm. “I do not think that I can confront him about this.”
“Well the other girl…Alexis,” Elizabeth says with a strange touch of jealousy in usually kind voice. “She wanted you to find this. I believe she expects that you will ultimately confront Brian Metcalfe.”
“God, I wouldn’t even know how to begin,” Emma says as she shakes her head.
“Just go to the office when it is not busy—drop the letters in front of him,” Elizabeth says as she begins to descend the spiral staircase. “The rest should just happen. He’ll have an explanation, I’m sure. Let’s just hope that it’s an honest one. Just start with saying that you will keep it between the two of you. It is obvious he cares for you.”
“So I shouldn’t tell Ethan?”
“Exposing this to his family at this point would only bring them pain.”
“Shouldn’t they know the truth, even if it is painful? Isn’t that how you’ve been treating me—all of you?”
“I suppose then, it is up to you. Do you bring others pain because you are going through it?” Elizabeth asks as she sits down at the kitchen table and lets out an exhausted sigh. “Your mother is gone—I imagine that he has gone through a lot of pain. Do you feel that he needs to go through more? Would it make you feel better?”
“If it were up to me no one would experience pain,” Emma says as she notices the visibly tired Elizabeth. “Are you alright?”
“Just tired,” Elizabeth says as she shrugs her shoulders and folds her arms against the table.
“You don’t seem like the girl that I met that first night,” Emma adds, noting the strange change in personalities. “You were much more forceful.”
“There is a chance it might not have been me,” Elizabeth admits. “I know what happened, it feels like they were my words. I suppose though, in a way, I’m connected to all the others—just like I’m connected to you.
“It’s just that,” Emma says softly as she recalls faintly everything that happened that first night she realized who she truly was. “You seem different the more time passes.”
“I …” Elizabeth says as she nods. “I feel…less important. I feel like I don’t matter in the grand scheme of things anymore.”
“Don’t say that,” Emma objects. “You are important.”
“I worry that once I’m no longer useful…I’ll just disappear permanently.”
“I think that you are incredibly useful,” Emma says as she reaches across the table and places her hand over Elizabeth’s; it is not as warm as it used to be. “You are the only one I can talk to freely.”
“Thank you…” Elizabeth whispers softly. “I think I need to go and lay down.”
“Of course,” Emma says as she nods. “I have an appointment.”
“And a date,” Elizabeth adds with a weak smile.
“I’m not looking forward to either.”
“Try and enjoy your day regardless,” Elizabeth says as she gets to her feet and begins to head towards the staircase.
“Is there anything…” Emma begins as she grabs her keys from her purse and heads towards the door. “Anything I should do—anywhere I should go?”
“Do whatever you like,” Elizabeth says as she heads up the stairs. “It is your life, make the best of it.”
/> *
Emma reaches the city with a bit of time to kill before her appointment with Dr. Riley. She drives down Pennsylvania Street and pauses outside of Brian Metcalfe’s insurance office. She looks to the metal box of letters while attempting to bring up enough courage to actually go in and confront him. She spots a young woman entering the building and decides against it—instead she heads to her appointment early.
Emma enters the familiar brown waiting room. She picks up a People magazine from the table and quickly flips through it—nothing in it catches her interest. She stares blankly for a few moments at the paintings of the fog filled green trees that follow the winding black paved road. She wonders where such a place exists. It looks nice. For the first time in a while she feels the urge to travel, to see something new. She wonders if this is even a possible option. If those invisible hooks that keep her locked firmly into familiarity have released their panic inducing hold upon her.
As the door opens to Dr. Riley’s office, Emma is surprised to be greeting by another familiar face.
“Justine?” Emma asks as she gets to her feet and sets the magazine back down upon the mosaic stone table.
“Emma…from yesterday,” Justine says as she nods and reaches out a hand.
“I didn’t know that you were a patient of Julie’s,” Emma says as she takes Justine’s hand.
“Have been for a few years,” Justine says with a small smile. “I guess our journey is on a more similar path than we thought.”
“I suppose it is,” Emma adds as she nods and smiles. “The necklace—it was a great gift. The person I gave it to loved it. Oh, and the painting, it looks great on my wall.”
“I’m so pleased,” Justine says as she flashes a brighter smile. “Like I said, I’ll be around—well not at the shop, it’s well over a hundred today with the humidity. If you need anything though, you know how to get a hold of me?”
“I have your number,” Emma says as she instinctively pulls out her cell. “I’ll give you a call when I get a chance.”
“Sounds great,” Justine says as she heads for the door. “Have a good session.”
Emma enters the office and sits down upon the couch.
“So you’ve met Justine?” Julie Riley asks as she turns her chair to face away from her writing desk.
“I found her shop while visiting the beach yesterday,” Emma answers as she rests her arms beneath her and folds her legs. “I bought some art from her.”
“That’s great,” Dr. Riley says as she smiles broadly. “I’m glad to hear that went out to the beach—and, also made a connection. Justine is a great person. She has been through a lot—nothing I can talk about, of course. But, I’m sure that you two can find something in common.”
“I also,” Emma begins as she feels herself blushing ever-so-slightly. “I have a date tonight.”
“All this progress and only the third day of your breakthrough,” Dr. Riley says as she nods and widens her eyes. “Soon you won’t even need me at this rate. I am deeply impressed.”
“Things aren’t completely…” Emma begins, however has a hard time finding exactly where she should begin. “…perfect.”
“What is going on that is negative?”
“Did you know my mother?”
“Other than the few times we met when she first set up our appointments,” Dr. Riley says as she scratches the side of her face with a long red nail. “I do not think that we really talked all that much, other than a plan of action for your care—I mean I know very little of her personally.”
“Do you know Brian Metcalfe?”
“Owns a small insurance company downtown, your mother worked for him, and he helped you out after she passed,” Dr. Riley says as she rattled of the short list. “Other than seeing where he works when I drive by—the only other information I know is from you.”
“They were having an affair—while my father was still with my mother. I found some letters in a box in her old room. He wanted to leave his family; he wanted my mother to leave my father and run off with him.”
“I’m sorry Emma,” Dr. Riley says as she shakes her head.
“The worst part of it—was that my mother always pretended that she enjoyed living this poor kind of simple life, when in truth she was just doing it so that she had an excuse to continue working for him.”
“Why didn’t they follow through with the plans after your father left?”
“That’s what I keep asking myself—and the only thing that I can come up with is that this last episode wasn’t the first time I’ve had…issues.”
“There is no history of treatment up until you turned twenty,” Dr. Riley says as she turns back to her table and pulls out the bottom drawer, revealing a large case of files. She finds Emma’s history and thumbs through it. “Yeah… There is nothing beyond. Then again, looking back, I always felt you should have gotten treatment when your boyfriend passed away. I suppose your mother waiting until the house was completely burning before calling the fire department—nothing against your mother, of course.”
“I don’t remember him very well,” Emma says sadly.
“I’m so sorry,” Dr. Riley says as she quickly files away the paperwork. “I did not mean any of that to be insensitive at all. I feel so foolish. It’s just that with the paperwork…I tend to get impersonal, which, of course, is why I never bring it out during a session. I just broke my own rule—I’m so sorry Emma.”
“Did you know that my name used to be Langford?”
“I did not know that,” Dr. Riley says she folds her arms and places her clasped fists beneath her chin.
“Why can’t I remember that my name used to be Langford?”
“Perhaps, the memory of him leaving was painful. Whenever someone that we love leaves us unexpectedly, it is impossible to just manage through it. I believe that it always leaves some kind of scar—not the visible kind, but up in here,” Dr. Riley says as she knocks against her head with a knuckle.
“Do you think he knew about my mother and Brain Metcalfe?”
“It would have made it easier for him to detach himself,” Dr Riley replies. “I could not say for sure. I mean I do not know the circumstances, but it is entirely possible.”
“I think I have to confront him,” Emma whispers as she feels an uncomfortable twinge of anxiety as she speaks the words. “Eventually, I think I have to find out. I don’t even remember my father’s first name. I did not know that my mother had this secret life—there’s so much that he knows. I just hope that he is willing to provide me with answers.”
“From what you’ve told me about him in the past, he seems like a reasonable man.”
“I know, it is just the fear of how he will react,” Emma says as she lets out a sigh.
“Well, our minds tend to make things play out far worse than they actually will,” Dr. Riley says. “I think in the end you’ll find it a cathartic experience.”
“I will go,” Emma says softly as she looks away to the window. She can make out the parking lot and a few trees. The air shimmers in waves from the heat. “When I’m ready…when they tell me I should, I guess.”
“They…?”
“There is one thing,” Emma says as she hesitates. Does she really want to do this? Dr. Riley has always been kind and understanding—but this whole ‘other versions’ thing could be a bit too much, even for an experienced therapist.
“Yes?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Emma says as she attempts to buy more time to convince herself just how bad an idea revealing this would be. “I mean I do…”
“We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.”
“Here goes,” Emma says as she exhales. “I’m seeing…versions of myself. They’re in my house, and at the beach—I see them walking down the street.”
“And they look just like you do?”
“Yes,” Emma says. “Also, they talk to me. I don’t know how many there are, but I think I’ve talked to eithe
r three or four of them.”
“What do they tell you?”
“They say that they are there to help me regain my memories, to make me whole again,” Emma answers, purposefully leaving the part where they warned her that the world is going to end in five more days because she had a worshipping fetish for sunlight.
“This is not completely unheard of,” Dr. Riley says as she scratches against her cheek—a telltale sign that she is processing information or recalling facts. “Although it is more common in schizophrenia, not to scare you—but you may have a mild form of that. However, the mind is a very powerful and complex thing. These other versions of you, they are most likely your mind attempting to process all the changes in a manner that makes the most sense to you. I believe that they are there to do just that ‘make you whole again’ and while I can understand how it would seem unsettling, I do not think it should be anything you should be overly concerned about.”
“Okay…” Emma whispers.
“Have there been any instances where you’ve seen them in the presence of other people?”
“Yes,” Emma replies with a single nod. “There have been a few times when I’ve talked to these other versions while people should have been able to see them—and they have not.”
“I can only imagine how scary it must seem—but just remember that they are not real. They are just a way for your mind to cope with all these new changes in your lifestyle. I believe that once you are in a much more stable routine that you’ll find that these visions will fade. How are you doing on your medication by the way?”
