Girl From the Tree House

by Gudrun Frerichs

  Did I say Madeline? Funny that. I swear that’s her name, but I have no clue how I know this. Only the swell of whispering and humming inside my head gets louder, like a train that approaches from afar. Until the words become clear and I recognize Sky’s soft voice.

  “We stayed here years ago, Lilly. Madeline belongs to Elise.”

  “I don’t understand. Why don’t I remember we’ve been here before?”

  “It’s been a long time ago and Madeline has more to do with Elise than any of us.”

  “How?”

  “It’s Elise’s doll. She always wished for the doll to come alive. Somehow that’s how Maddie was born and why she looks like the doll. You can imagine Elise’s surprise when she ‘saw’ Maddie in the garden.”

  Sky is silent, and I am confused. I never gave much thought to how we came to be. It’s complicated enough to live the life of a multiple, let alone know the processes that lead to it.

  I stare at the doll as if doing so will extract more information out of her, but no lights go on. Prince must have noticed my confused state because he gives my hand a few reassuring licks. He doesn’t seem to mind whether he’s with Elise, Luke, or me. He’s sitting next to me, his face almost touching my knee. I’m scratching his neck and admiring Luke’s effort in the yard. We’ve been here before, Sky said?

  I wish I remembered. Maybe that’s how Elise feels, always a step behind, trying to catch up? It’s like an itch you want to scratch, but you can’t reach it. I thought we knew everything, but we don’t. Far from it.

  I listen to the whispers in my head that are more like the sound of a waterfall cascading over a cliff than distinguishable sentences. I give up and let my gaze wander over the flowerbeds and bushes recovering from Luke’s brutal attack. Purple, blue, yellow, and white wildflowers pepper the outer edges of the garden. He left the flowers for us to pluck, I’m sure. What would we do without him? He’s the man in the house, the father the kids never had, although he’s no more than two or three years older than I am. He always reminds me of Luke Skywalker with his blonde, longish hair and eyes light blue like the summer sky. I couldn’t wish for a better friend.

  I should tell him occasionally and give him recognition for all the work he does.

  Miss Marple said, “If you appreciate each other and are thankful for the help you receive, say so. Each part of you came to help when it was needed most. That deserves respect and recognition.”

  She was often right, but I don’t buy everyone came to help. I remember well when there were parts outside the Tribe that made life difficult like hell. They didn’t come to help; they were set on destroying us, trying to finish what Elise’s parents started. I haven’t seen or heard of them for years.

  We’ve been here before? Of course, it makes sense. It’s the house of Elizabeth’s aunt. There is something more important about it. Some crucial information or link I can’t grasp. It fades the way remnants of a dream disappear when I wake up.

  I try hard to remember, but it slips quickly through my fingers. I don’t know where to start. It’s like going down a never-ending rabbit hole. It’s no use. I lean back on a rusty, old chair and let the sun warm my face. This is a lovely space. One day, this garden will be our pride, I’m sure. This could become my favorite place.

  “Enough brooding, Prince. Let’s check out the tree.”

  The dog lifts his head and his ears are twitching front to back. First, I think he’s responding to my words, but then I hear a rumbling coming from behind the trees. Someone’s coming. Prince raises his hackles and a low, gurgling growl rolls in his throat. The Tribe gets agitated, too. I don’t have to wait long before an old pickup truck clears the trees and rocks back and forth on the washed-out dirt road toward our house.

  It’s Scottie. He didn’t impress Elise yesterday, but that doesn’t mean much. She doesn’t like men. I like him even though he looks pretty ancient, at least forty if I had to guess. He must be a poor learner or something. Elise gave him a cold shoulder yesterday. You’ve got to hand it to him; he’s either persistent or already suspicious of us. I will find out any moment because he stops the truck and walks up to me. I’m not sure, though, what to make of the two animal cadavers he has slung over his shoulder.

  Neither does Prince. He barks so loud; they must hear it all the way in Port Somers. I rise from the chair and lean my hands on the wrought iron coffee table. That was a mistake. I almost lose my balance. One has to take your hat off for good old auntie Mandy. She left a lot of cool stuff behind, but this wonky table is useless and has scrap metal written all over it.

  “Good morning, congrats on your guard dog.”

  Scottie tips his hat with one finger and dangles two dead rabbits in front of my nose. Oh… he shouldn’t do that. I can feel the Tribe getting up in arms about it.

  Those cute bunnies. He killed them.

  “I thought I’d come and see how you did after your first night in the wilderness and bring you a welcome to the neighborhood present. Hunting was good this morning. Do you know how to skin a rabbit?”

  He must think I’m a mute moron. I don’t want to shake the hand he handled the dead animals with. I barely control my gag response. How could he? I listen inside but nobody volunteers to come out for meeting our new neighbor. The one time when you’d think being a multiple is an advantage, everyone inside says thanks but no thanks.

  “Scottie, what a surprise. Meet Prince.”

  Oops. Did I call him Scottie out loud? He doesn’t react to me using a nickname. He drops his hand down and lets Prince take a good, long sniff. At least he knows how to treat a dog.

  I turn aside to avoid the smell of blood, but it’s too late. If I were a vampire—I’m not, but it would be the coolest thing to be strong and have all these superhero skills—I would grow fangs now and my eyes would turn red. None of that happens though. I have to deal with Scottie, the animal killer, with my weak, human self.

  “We are vegetarian. We eat nothing that had a pulse once and recoiled when hurt. But it’s the thought that counts, so thanks for the neighborly gesture.” I’m not the only one who feels dreadful. We all do. It’s bad manners to reject a well-meant neighborly gift.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll remember that for next time when I shoot a cabbage.”

  He grins. Our neighbor is a joker. Next time? What next time? I hope he hasn’t decided that we are ideal for his charitable look after a maiden in distress program for this year. He’s far from a knight in shining armor and we are far from a maiden in distress.

  He turns and throws the limp rabbits into the back of his pickup truck. The thump of the cadavers causes an outcry of protest inside my head. He wouldn’t know, but man, it hurts like hell.

  “You couldn’t know.”

  “Anything you need help with?”

  This is a question Luke and Ama should answer because I have no clue about these domestic matters. But I can’t reach them in their hiding place somewhere high up in the branches of our tree house.

  “I’m good, thanks for asking.”

  He appears impressed. “Looks like it. Did you have a crew, or something come over and clean up?”

  “Nope, I’m stronger than I look. It’ll take another four to five days before we’re done. Why don’t you drop in then?”

  I’m sure he knows I just sent him away. He laughs and holds up his hand as he turns back to his truck.

  “I won’t hold you up. See ya.”

  I watch him leave and when I’m sure he’s gone and not sneaking back; I’ll call Prince and head for the tree in the backyard.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sky: 19 November 2015, Late Afternoon, Wright’s Homestead

  We are running out of time, and that fills me with fear.

  Miss Marple calls me the Wise One. Right now, I don’t feel wise at all. I didn’t expect fleeing to Wright’s Homestead would bring up so much so quickly. I had my head in the clouds and filled with excitement about our escape and hope for a peaceful p
lace where we can collect all our bits and pieces. What use is it being wise if you can’t use it to stop things from happening? I need to stop Lilly, but she doesn’t hear me.

  “Please, Lilly, curb your curiosity and don’t go to the tree in the back.”

  I shout as loud as I can. I hoped we would have had more time to settle in our new home. More time to detox from the tons of drugs Helen and her doctor pumped into us over the years. I hoped to have more time to get the Tribe working together with Elise. Lots of hopes, I know.

  We are not ready yet to deal with the trauma of the past. We need more time… something we don’t have. The moment I saw the tree, I knew Maddie was in danger. She is so excited about finding her tree again. It won’t be long till she connects the dots and could flip into flashbacks and terrible nightmares again.

  There is nothing I can do about it. Or can I? I focus my energy on Lilly. Perhaps I can help her lift her energy… but she’s already weakening. It won’t take much more than a soft nudge from Maddie to push Lilly aside. And nudge she will. Her excitement radiates from her slender form.

  It’s Lilly rounding the house corner, but it’s Maddie inhabiting the body as soon as the tree comes into full view. Her little mouth forms a perfect O and she clutches Madeleine against her small, four-year-old body. It’s no surprise, because this tree belongs to her, more than to anybody else of the Tribe.

  “Madeleine, look, our tree.” She hasn’t noticed that the doll’s dress is nothing more than strips of material, hanging together, or that dents and scratches cover its body. She runs toward the tree as fast as her little legs allow her. With the doll in one hand, she touches the bark with the other.

  “It’s real, it’s not a dream.” She puts her head against the trunk and closes her eyes.

  For a moment, Maddie is happy. I wish she could stay like that. But I can’t manipulate the memories other parts have, stem the bad ones and bring out the good ones. That’s not how it works. All I can do is hold together the fabric of the self. I’m like the warp of a loom, holding together the structure upon which members of the Tribe weave their individual pattern. At times, like now, I wish I had the ability to influence things rather than just witness how our life unfolds.

  “Sky, where is auntie? I don’t see her.”

  Maddie remembers staying with Auntie Amanda. She loved auntie so much she even took her name.

  “Auntie Amanda doesn’t live here anymore. Remember, we lived with Horace and Helen?” I don’t dare to tell her that auntie is dead.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “But Prince lives with us now. Look, he wants you to scratch behind his ears. Isn’t he a lovely doggy?” Prince approaches her with caution as if he understands she’s fragile. He knows something is wrong because he doesn’t jump at her as he does with Luke or Elise.

  Maddie stretches her hand out and lets Prince sniff at her. That’s the best she can do. Maddie doesn’t take well to strangers, and it looks like the same goes for dogs she doesn’t know. She shakes her head and puts a thumb into her mouth. The excited gleam in her eyes has vanished.

  I’m getting desperate to find someone to be with Maddie in case she has a flashback. Where is Toby when you need him?

  “Here I am. You don’t have to shout at me, Sky. I know Maddie needs me. I looked for her snuggle-blankie. Do you know where she put it?”

  I shake my head and watch both kids climb on the rickety bench that leans against the tree trunk. My first impulse is to tell them to climb down from there. What if the rotten old thing collapses? We don’t need any more injuries. I’d like to avoid going to the Accident & Emergency clinic. The fewer people we know, the better we’ll be for it.

  “Come. We play in the house, Maddie.”

  Toby is such a clever little boy. He wants to get Maddie back into the house. But she is not quite present anymore. She clutches the doll to her chest and silent tears are running down her little plump cheeks. I know her story, have seen it many times before when she had a flashback. I know most stories of the other parts. She remembers.

  I wish I could reach out to her. But I can’t reach through time and join her flashback. A thin veil of the past shades her eyes and Maddie is no longer here but there. Her mind has traveled twenty-odd-years into the past and ended up in her bed in the room on top of the stairs in Auntie’s house.

  There she is, lying in the big bed, tightly holding the edges of the quilt covering her. Heavy footsteps come closer and echo like thunder in Maddie’s head. Her blood hammers louder in her ears with each thumping step. When the door opens, she pulls up the quilt, overtaken with fear.

  A dark shadow comes towards the bed and her heart gallops at the speed of wild horses racing over endless terrain. Then, inky black night mercifully wraps her into the arms of unconsciousness. I never have discovered who takes over the body after Maddie faints. Every time there is a flash of evil hostility that bothers me. It’s always part of Maddie’s flashback. Is it the energy her father brings with him? I’ve tried many times to find out but always hit an impenetrable wall.

  At the moment I try to contain Maddie’s flashback as well as possible. It’s excruciating sharing her vision and being unable to help her or stop the memories. Her eyelids blink and she moans. It’s dark outside and Maddie is hiding between the large sink and the workbench in the laundry. Loud, harsh voices drift over from the adults in the living room. They frighten her. Her lips tremble and her little body shakes. Droplets of blood are splattered down her leg. She’s hurting, and every movement is painful. Maddie lets out a sob followed by a moan and another sob.

  “You better leave, I will have none of these despicable things happen in my house.” Her aunt is bellowing at the top of her lungs.

  Don’t talk back, Maddie wants to shout to her, or it gets worse.

  “I will not leave without my daughter. You have no right…”

  She can’t hear the rest. She clutches Madeleine close to her chest and slips through the backdoor into the pitch-black garden. The thorny branches of the rose bushes scratch her legs and snag her nightgown. She doesn’t mind. She has to get away and hide where bad people can’t find her.

  From behind a thin layer of clouds, the pale moon casts moving patterns of light that stretch out to her like gnarly fingers belonging to a giant, dangerous beast. But the night doesn’t scare her. Nothing is as frightening as what happens in her upstairs bedroom. Even though she is little, she understands monsters don’t live in gardens. They live in houses without laughter and love, behind a high fence and rows of tall trees.

  Maddie runs to the tree in the back garden. She clings to the thick tree trunk and doesn’t take her eyes off the backdoor. Not for a second. She doesn’t move, not even when the cold of the night creeps through the thin nightgown and numbs her hands. She presses as close as possible against the rough bark of the tree. She doesn’t mind the scratches and pieces of bark that draw blood.

  “Come,” the tree whispers into her ear. “You’re safe with me. Come.”

  She stares at a crack in the bark that glows warm and golden and watches it growing larger and larger. Maddie presses herself into the crack, harder and harder until she disappears.

  Safe at last.

  It was at that moment our tree house came into existence. Maddie, in her extraordinary creative mind, gave us the tree house, the safe place for us to rest and recuperate. Since then we have always had a safe place.

  Someone pulls my hand. I’d forgotten Toby.

  “Are you angry with me, Sky?”

  “Never, sweetie. You were there when she needed you.”

  “I don’t think she knew I was. She jumped into the past before I could stop her.”

  “Sometimes it’s enough just to have someone there.” The last thing I want is for Toby to feel responsible. Maddie’s flashbacks are hard enough for the Tribe to cope with. They vibrate through our system like an earthquake, shaking everyone up.

  “Next time I’ll try holding he
r hands. Maybe I squeeze them. Will she know that I’m with her when I do that?” He looks down at the small frame of Maddie, curled up on the ground, her arms around the tree.

  “That’s a wonderful idea. You are such a good friend. Don’t worry anymore; she’ll be fine. Ama will carry her up the tree house and tuck her in.”

  I was right. Ama drags her massive body down the narrow stairs. She knows the routine; these flashbacks are a familiar feature in our life. Other parts have flashbacks too, but Maddie’s are the ones that impact the most on the Tribe. I watch Ama as she picks Maddie up and folds her into her soft, big arms.

  “Sweetie, come to Ama. I’ll make you a cup of hot chocolate and then it’s time for a rest.”

  Maddie loves Ama. It isn’t difficult to spot. She snuggles against Ama’s big bosom and buries her face in the many folds of soft, fleshy bits. With Ama, there are no sharp bony bits sticking out and hurting her, as the bad man has. Everything is soft and warm, and she can let herself fall.

  “I hurt, Ama.” Silent tears are rolling down Maddie’s face.

  “I know, sweetheart. I know.” Ama is breathing hard as she carries Maddie up the stairs into the common room.

  “Why does he hurt me?”

  “The bad man?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t know darling. Maybe because he’s a bad person.” Just to make sure, Ama holds Maddie closer and pecks a kiss on the girl’s forehead.

  Toby rushes after Ama and almost stumbles as he takes two steps at a time. “I think the bad man liked seeing children crying. He smiled when he hurt Maddie. I hate him. When I’m all grown up, I’ll catch him and throw him into our dungeon.”

  He’s out of breath when he holds the doll up to Ama. “Maddie forgot Madeleine.”

  “Thank you, Toby. You are a sweet boy.”

  Ama opens the door to the common room and puts Maddie on the enormous grandfather chair. It’s already late and most child parts have retired to their rooms. After they finish their chocolate drink, Toby skips into his room and Ama puts Maddie to bed in her room.