I can’t take my mind off Lilly and how calm she is. Yes, she is the one charged with difficult situations, but this new maturity is puzzling. Is Lilly changing?
I ponder over that possibility while I finish packing.
Chapter Four
Sky: 18 November 2015, Early Morning, North Island
I wonder what it would be like to have a body. Would I still be me if I experienced joy or pain, hunger or thirst like the others?
I often watch them jostling to take control of the body to fulfill a desire or activity. Sometimes I want to be like them and taste the flavor of life on my tongue. Not so much when an invisible force pulls them from our inner sanctum and throws them into a difficult situation.
At times like that, I want to help them, intervene, stop them being highjacked. But I can’t. If I had hands, I’d say my hands are tied. For reasons I don’t understand yet, I’m not meant to slip into the body. All I can be is a beacon of light to guide them home to the tree house when they return from the body. Home is where our life is the fullest and richest.
In my mind, people are like icebergs. What you see, their outside life, is only an insignificant portion of their being, almost a distraction. Yes, that’s what getting up, eating, going to work, coming home, going to sleep signifies. A distraction. Every robot can fulfill these tasks. What’s important is the inside world, the miraculous workings of the inner mind.
I know and take an oath on that the more we become aware of our parts, the more we accept our differences, the more we work together in harmony, the happier we are. It even affects our outside life. It’s not rocket science but seems a hard thing to master, because the world seems to be filled with unhappy people. It must be the same for other people.
Miss Marple calls me the observing ego. That sounds too Freudian and too objectifying to me. I’m sure she didn’t intend to upset me, and she didn’t. I simply don’t agree. I’m a witness and record keeper. I know what’s going on for each part of the Tribe and I keep a record. One day, when we need it, we’ll have a record from birth to death. I’m the record keeper because I don’t feel things.
No one person would survive knowing everything that happened to us and feel the feelings that go with it. That’s why we have as many parts as we do. Each part manages a certain incident or a part of an incident while others manage feelings. Some times are better than others. If we hadn’t been able to store our trauma memories with different parts, we would be six feet under already.
Take Luke who is driving much too fast right now, if I may say so. He can only function as our driver and man about the house because he doesn’t have many memories of abuse. He’s speeding. That means he’s not coping as well as I’d wish.
“Slow down, we don’t want the police coming after us.”
“Sky! Keep out of my driving.”
Luke almost barks at me but he slows down. This is a stressful time for him. The poor lad shoulders the full responsibility for our getaway. His hands grip the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn pale. Every hundred yards he shoots an anxious glance in the rear-view mirror.
“He’s afraid the police are chasing after us. I dare them to. I’ll show them what crazy really means.” Amadeus’s anger is spilling out of him and he slams his hand against the car door.
“You keep out of this, wise guy. It’s lockdown and I’m driving. You are not helping.” Luke pushes Amadeus back and concentrates on the road.
“Settle down you two. It won’t happen. Helen never gets up this early. By the time she does, we’ll have a five-hour lead. For the moment we are safe,” I say hoping to ease the tension. The last thing we need is fighting amongst us.
I’m sure we’ve got a good chance to get away this time. We’ve never been this well prepared. Lilly and Luke planned for months to create the ideal camouflage for our escape. Lilly bought three magnetic car advertising signs and personalized number plates that we stuck to the van at our first rest stop. Now we drive under the pretense we are 4evafit, a gym from Hamilton.
I move closer to Luke to reassure him. The coast is clear. Nobody’s following us… so far. But I know better than to relax and so does he. How often did we run away and thought we were safe? Helen or Horace always shot up in front of us unexpected like Zombies that rise out of graves at the stroke of midnight.
We work well together, even without talking out loud. We hear what’s in each other’s mind. I can do that with most of the Tribe. Lilly and Luke often sense what I want. The others are not so good at it. I have to tell them. But at times like this, having the connection is very helpful.
“Do you think we made it?”
I detect doubt in his voice.
“They’ve always found us, no matter how far we’ve got. How do you think they did that? As if they’d stuck a locator beacon to our van.” Luke frowns as he waits for my answer.
“I do.” My response comes automatically, even though something niggles in the back of my mind. What did we overlook in the past that allowed them to find us? We are close to the Morrinsville intersection when I know what we’ve missed. It’s as clear as daylight. I could kick myself—if I had feet. Which I don’t. Have feet that is.
“Stop the car.”
It’s five o’clock in the morning and we’ve been on the road for two hours. It took an hour to smuggle everything Ama had packed into the van. Bless her. Lilly found the shoebox of money stashed away in Horace’s closet. She also combed through his home office but couldn’t find anything useful. In the end, she only took a thick folder filled with our medical history and hospital admissions. It may not be of much use to us, but at least we can go through it and be aware of what they have against us.
Luke pushes the switch for the emergency lights and stops the car on the side strip of the road. We climb out into the crisp dawn air and stretch. The sun is rising and drives the stars away from the blue turning morning sky. He takes a deep breath and the cold air rushes through our body. I feel energized and even Lilly, who hovers in the back, watching and listening as she always does, sticks up her head.
“Why did you ask me to stop?”
“It’s the phone. It’s the only thing I can think of. Horace gave it to Elise so she could always call him if she got lost. And you know how often that happened.”
He fishes for the phone in the deep pockets of his jacket and raises his brows.
“Shall I chuck it away then?”
“Wait. I have a better idea,” Lilly says, putting her hand on Luke’s arm to stop him. He doesn’t like to wait. He wants to get as much distance as possible between us and Helen. But if we want to improve our chances, we need to get rid of the phone. Quickly and smartly.
“I once saw in a movie how people threw their phone onto a car driving in the opposite direction they were heading. If we could find a pickup truck or something similar that would be the perfect deception.” Lilly’s excitement is tangible. It rushes through our veins like an electrical current. Her plan could actually work.
“Before we get rid of it, we should delete all the data. Hurry, put the phone back to the factory setting.” I’ve not even finished the sentence and Luke already taps buttons and icons. The grin on his face shows me he likes the idea. Bless him.
“Can we go now? I’d rather throw the phone into the bushes and leave than wait for a pick-up truck.”
“We have a better chance if whoever Helen sends after us is looking in the wrong direction. It can’t take long for a suitable car to come along.”
We wait and doubt about my decision sneaks up on me. The disadvantage of driving early in the morning is there is not much traffic. A few vehicles that passed us slowed when they saw our emergency lights but didn’t stop. We wait for over ten minutes until a pickup truck comes along and stops. Going by the sign on the driver’s door, it’s a plumber from Tauranga. The driver rolls down his window.
“Need any help?”
“Thanks, we’re fine. Just had to get my bearings.” Luke fo
ught with the roadmap trying to fold it again.
“Where’re you headed?”
“East Coast, Opotiki. And you, sir?”
“Best take the route via Rotorua then. I’m headed to Whakatane. If you’re not sure about the route, you are welcome to follow me.”
“Thanks for your kind offer. It looks pretty straight forward.”
I’m so proud of Luke. He always keeps calm, even in dicey situations. He lifts his hand for a goodbye as the plumber drives on. Then Luke throws the phone into the back of the guy’s truck, where it disappears between copper pipes and a toolbox. He grins at me and rubs his hands.
“That was a cool trick.”
Yes, that was a pretty cool trick, if I may say so myself. If they follow our phone to the east coast, we’ll be long gone in the opposite direction. I watch the pickup truck disappear in the distance and send the driver a silent Godspeed.
“Are we there yet?” The worried note in Ama’s question pushes into my thoughts.
“Is everything alright?”
“The little ones are stirring. I don’t know how much longer I can keep them in their rooms.”
Ama is not a drama queen. When she’s concerned, she has a good reason. We can’t have restless, frightened kids pop into the body and push Luke aside. That’s a recipe for disaster on so many levels, I shudder at the thought of it.
“They must have picked up on Luke’s tension and Amadeus’ anger.” It’s easy to forget we are not a group of separate people but inhabit the same body. We share the same brain as Miss Marple always says. The more we become a functioning unit, the more we’re affected by each other’s thoughts and feelings. At times like this, I look back longingly to the years of solid separation. Dissociation isn’t always a bad thing. Sometimes it’s a blessing. Right this moment it could make or break our escape.
“We have another seven hours or so ahead of us until we can board the midday ferry in Wellington. The crossing to the South Island takes about four hours, and then another five hours to Port Somers. Please, Ama, try to keep the kids in lockdown for as long as possible.”
My voice is getting weaker. Being involved drains my energy and I’m fading. I become like a day-curtain, see-through and barely there. I need a rest to be at my best. We all have to bring our A-game for our escape to succeed. There is no room for slacking off. I know Luke will step up. Everything depends on him doing what he is good at—driving and getting us to a safe spot. He won’t disappoint today. As soon as the thought crystallizes in my mind, I’m pulled to my room in the tree house.
I must have been asleep for a few hours because it’s daylight now. We have left the Waikato plains and are now driving through quaint hills. The familiar humming of the motor spreads like a calming, soft blanket over us. I can’t detect any agitation among the younger tribe members, only a gentle floating of souls in tune with the classical Spanish guitar music coming from the radio. Luke knows we all like it. He’s so intuitive for a young man.
He knows I’m back and points his finger to the dip between the two mountain ranges at the horizon.
“That’s Taumarunui down there. We should be in Wellington in five hours. Just in time for the midday crossing to Picton.”
A sigh of relief slips from my lips and my gaze follows the road ahead as it snakes down the hill and cuts through farmland. Is it too early to say our getaway has been a success? Never before have we come this far. Even if the police send out a search call for us, our number plate switch will trick them. Helen will have them look for a forty-two-year-old woman, and Luke looks nothing like a woman in his jeans, white t-shirt, a red and black checkered Swanndri jacket, his beloved All Blacks baseball cap, and John Lennon sunglasses. With luck, it’ll be plain sailing all the way. Well, as plain as we would ever sail.
“Sky, why is Helen so mad at us? Why does someone always have to have an eye on us? It doesn’t make sense. Lilly said Helen is up to something.” Luke doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but I can tell, he’s been pondering for a while the strange comment Dr. Storm made yesterday evening.
“I think so too.” I move closer to let him know I’m right behind him. “We have to find out what she’s up to. We will not be fugitives and look over our shoulder for the rest of our lives.”
Horace didn’t show any signs that he liked us and yet he agreed to be our guardian. He even married Elise for crying out loud. Not that their relationship resembled a normal marriage. Without a doubt, marrying us must have been an advantage for him. He and Helen didn’t keep us out of the goodness of their hearts. I never saw him doing anything unless he benefited from it.
For a while, we drive on in silence leaving the morning traffic of Taumarunui behind us. As we drive up the Raurimo Rise, Luke clears his throat. “Perhaps Elise knows something about Helen’s motives. Of all of us, she’s been around her the most. Isn’t it time we force Elise into the fold? I hate feeling like a hunted fox. I’m done running.”
From the back, Lilly nudges in and throws her weight into the conversation. “I agree. It’s time for her to dismiss the notion that we are not real. We have to make her face the fact that she’s not alone in this body. We have just as much right to be here as she has. She’s no different to us. Her notion that she’s it and we are a disease she contracted like one catches malaria, is insulting. If there is something like an original person, it’s Elizabeth. The rest of us are all adaptations.”
“Excuse me, Lilly. Speak for yourself. I’m not an adaptation. If anything, we are like a precious vase that fell off the shelf and shattered into many pieces. By some heavenly intervention we were glued together again, but the cracks are still showing. Together, we are all it. That’s what Miss Marple said and that’s what I’m sticking to.”
“No offense, buddy. Just because I used the wrong word doesn’t mean we are not on the same page. I agree. Okay? Friends? All I’m saying is, Elise is strong enough to meet the Tribe. As soon as we settle in the new house, we should confront her.”
I almost forgot that Lilly is our rebel. She can be so cheeky and devious at times and then… she hits one out of the ballpark and is all sensible and mature beyond her eighteen years.
“It’ll be difficult to do without Miss Marple.” I hate being the voice of reason, but we had incidences in the past where we ended up in crisis because the little communication we had established, had broken down.
“Can’t we talk to Charlotte by phone or Skype? I’m getting pretty annoyed to be dismissed by Elise as a figment of her imagination.”
I understand Lilly’s frustration. After all, she cleans up a lot of the mess Elise tends to make. The funeral wasn’t the first time Elise chickened out and went AWOL. Whenever a situation becomes uncomfortable for her, she ducks away, and Lilly is usually the one who picks up the pieces.
“Let’s get to the new house first. Then we’ll see.”
I know I’m pinning a lot of hope in the new house. What if it turns out to be a rat-infested, broken-down, rickety old shack with the wind howling through the weatherboards, a shabby tin roof that leaks through more holes than there are stars in the sky, and doors hanging lopsided on their hinges?
That’s my worst scene scenario. Arriving at a place that is uninhabitable. I haven’t shared my concerns with any of the Tribe. I pray that my fears don’t become reality. We need a place where we can settle and set our affairs in order. Life as a multiple is hard enough without the outside world throwing us curve balls.
I’m sure the uncertainty of what awaits us is gnawing at the other adults as well. It’s our chance for a new beginning and it has to be better than what we’ve had so far. The usual living on tenterhooks, scraping by, trying to look as normal as possible while inside we are everything but normal is not good enough anymore. We deserve better and that’s exactly what we will create.
With the strength born of the decision not to waste this opportunity, I drift away. There is plenty of time to make plans for the future when we arrive at Wrig
ht’s Homestead.
Chapter Five
Elise: 18 November, Late Afternoon, Port Somers
Where am I? My stomach lurches violently and nausea claws at my throat. A wave of sickness rises up inside me until the sour taste of bile coats my tongue. Not again! Please, not again. Am I awake or am I dreaming? Perhaps I’m dreaming I’m awake? Will this nightmare never end?
First, I check my arms. No blood, no new cuts. That’s a good sign, right? I look down at my clothes. A familiar panic explodes in my chest and stops me from breathing. Jeans, a white t-shirt, and a red and black-checkered Swanndri jacket? I swear I’ve never seen them before. I would never buy anything like it.
It was naive to believe this wouldn’t happen again. Naive and stupid. It has been a while since I woke up in a strange place not knowing how I got there. I’m frustrated and so disappointed in myself that I could… The urge to hurt me is overwhelmingly strong. I can’t think past the tears running down my face.
Behind me, a car door slams shut and a group of young people, come running down a grass-covered hill toward me, shouting and laughing. I freeze and wipe my tears away.
“Are you okay, lady?”
I turn away from the concerned faces and rub my foot. “I’m fine, thanks. I stubbed my big toe and it hurts like hell.” I wish they would leave me alone. I don’t need witnesses to my misery.
“Shall we ring the ambulance?”
A short laugh escapes my lips. “Certainly not. Where will we come to getting ambulances for stubbed toes? No, just let me finish my pity party. I’ll be fine in a moment. Thanks for caring, though.” I watch the group racing toward the surf, throwing their bags on the sand, stripping down to their bathing suits, and diving into the water.
As far as I can see, I’m sitting on a beautiful beach. It wasn’t the white, fine sand of Auckland’s east coast beaches, but a mixture of coarse gray sand, shells, stones, and lots of driftwood. My surroundings come into focus and I start noticing things, like the twigs that poke into my buttocks accompanied by a cold, wet sensation. It must have rained earlier. I’m sitting on a strip of wet grass with my bare feet buried in the sand.
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