Girl From the Tree House

by Gudrun Frerichs

He reads! I glance over the titles. History, philosophy, and Chekhov, to name a few. Not that I know those books. I’m a movie person and my favorite is Blue Lagoon. Just saying, reading is not my thing. I’ve judged him as an ignorant hunter and missed the mark. The corner with the books and the couch looks mighty inviting. He even has a bunch of wildflowers arranged in a large pickle glass.

  A wooden plank, with shelves underneath filled with pots, pans, and crockery and a large propane camping cooker on top, is his kitchen. A small table and two chairs complete this part of the room. The basic look of his pantry tells me he’s not competing with at Master Chef anytime soon. We must invite him to one of Ama’s famous dishes.

  I take a seat at the table and wonder where to start.

  “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

  “Again?” He raises his eyebrows.

  I laugh but I have to admit it sounds mighty nervous.

  “It’s hard to know where to start. We came here because someone in a black hatchback followed us from Port Somers right up to our turnoff. We panicked.”

  “Did you see who was in the car?”

  “No, it had tinted windows.”

  “Why would anyone follow you?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine. A few nights ago someone came to our cottage and looked through the window. The person ran away when we opened the door and set Prince after him. Whoever it was, the thug hurt Prince. He’s still limping a little on his left hind leg.”

  Scottie strokes Prince who’d stretches out next to his chair.

  “Good boy.” Then he turns back to me. “Do you have any idea what the person could have been looking for? I mean, neither your hut nor mine shout we’ve got treasures. Couldn’t it be someone who got lost and ended up at the wrong house?”

  “And run away when I call out?” I shake my head. “All I can think of is the deed of the house, but then, hey, it’s not prime real estate, is it? It can’t be worth more than a hundred thousand dollars.”

  “No, you are right, that makes little sense. Anything else you can think of?”

  “We were on our way home from our lawyer, you know the one who’s dealing with the title for Wright’s Homestead. He told us that our marriage wasn’t valid. The man we thought was our husband was married to the woman he introduced as his sister. It’s all crazy.”

  “It sounds like it. How come you suspected nothing?”

  “Good question. There is not a quick answer to that.”

  At this point, I am shaking. The Tribe is in full alarm. Other than Miss Marple nobody knows that we are a multiple. It’s not something to brandish around like an achievement of any kind. We prefer people seeing us as dimwitted rather than mentally ill. I get a sense of Sky’s hand on my shoulder, reassuring me and hear her whisper, “Tell him.”

  The idea of telling him about us is petrifying. What if he thinks I’m lying and doesn’t want to know us afterwards? It feels risky. I can hear young parts inside crying. They are overwhelmed. We learned from early on that telling anybody anything is forbidden. The kids are afraid our abusers will punish us. They don’t understand our abusers are no longer in our life or that we are not helpless children anymore.

  “I’ve got time.”

  “Time for what?”

  “For the not so quick answer.”

  He catches me not paying attention.

  “It’s complicated.”

  “I think I can manage, or do you have doubts?”

  “No, no. I know I’m stalling. Where do I start?”

  He gets up and pours a glass of water. “You too?”

  I nod and wait for him to sit back down.

  “I guess you noticed I use the pronoun ‘we’ a lot of the time.”

  “Yes, I did. Is it the royal ‘we,’ should I know something about your aristocratic family connection? Any links to the royal family, Your Highness?”

  “Ha, ha. No, it’s not that fancy. Or maybe it’s even fancier. You decide.” I take a deep breath like a swimmer on the side of the pool, about to dive in. “I experience myself as a we, a person of many parts who are quite distinct from each other.”

  He looks at me with interest, but not at all shocked so far. That’s a good sign.

  “There is a part of me who is a caretaker, another part is a healer, a gardener, a child, a warrior, and so on.”

  “We all have that, don’t we? Wearing different hats depending on what we are doing at the time?”

  “Yes, we all have that. It’s called dissociation. The thing is, I’m doing it just a whole lot more sophisticated than the average person. When you get engrossed in a book and don’t notice the phone ringing, you dissociate. When something similar happens to me, I dissociate to such an extent that I become a different person. I might switch into a different part who picks up the phone, or I don’t hear the ringing at all.”

  He frowns as if he has trouble with what I’ve just said. “I can’t see how that’s a big deal.”

  “Like the other day when you stayed overnight at our place. A part of me came down the stairs and weaved. You talked to her.”

  “Yes, I remember. You talked funny.”

  “Now, see, that wasn’t me. That was a child part of me. She’s only four years old and has a different name to me. She thinks and acts like a four-year-old. I don’t remember that incident at all. I know about it because we are writing these things down in a book where all the different parts can get up to speed about what’s happening.”

  “Now I’m confused.”

  “Try living with it. It’s difficult.”

  “My name is Lilly. I pulled you out of the car. I’m strong. I don’t remember much of our past. It would get in the way of me getting things done.”

  “Lilly? You introduced yourself as Elise Reid when you arrived.”

  “That wasn’t me. That was Elise. Elise is the one who fixed your head wound. She knows about healing. She’s amazing, but when she gets frightened, she slips inside, and I have to clean up whatever mess we are in. Like today, talking to you.”

  “Wow… So, the night of the accident Elise took care of my injuries? And the next morning at breakfast that was…?

  “That was me.”

  “And after the little girl left, that was…?

  “That was our camp mother.”

  “That sounds, I don’t know, interesting? Weird? Amazing?”

  “Well, it’s all that, but living with it is difficult. Unless we get better at working together, we’re not going to get anywhere. We all hold different pieces of memories. We don’t have our memories all in one place. So, when you ask whether we suspected anything about the marriage, the answer is no. Because different parts hold different memories and we’ve never been able to put all the pieces together. We are starting now but it’s a slow process.”

  “How is that connected to being followed?”

  “I’m not sure yet. Our condition is called Dissociative Identity Disorder. You become a person of parts like us through physical, sexual, and emotional abuse in the early years of childhood. We remember most, but not all. Some happened here, and it involves the Gateway Community, some happened in Auckland.”

  “This explains a great deal about your reaction at the grocery shop.”

  “Yes, a child part recognized the compound in the newspaper and pushed Elise aside for a while. We fear we are considered a threat because we could identify the abusers. We also think my parent’s estate is somehow involved. Our lawyer Patrick Armstrong is looking into that, too. He thinks our guardians misappropriated significant portions of our inheritance.”

  “Holy shit. That’s unbelievable.”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant. I mean unbelievable as in Whoa. How can I help?”

  He wants to help? That’s more than I ever dreamed of. And he seems to mean it too, because he looks sincere. It’s an amazing feeling. Before I know what I’m doing, I jump out of my chair and press a kiss
on his stubbly cheek.

  “Oops, sorry, I didn’t…” I don’t even know what I’m saying. But I know I’m turning red like a fire engine.

  He smiles at me and gives me an awkward upper body hug before he lets me go. “No need to be sorry. We are friends, aren’t we?”

  “Yes, we are.” There go the butterflies again, but he doesn’t need to know that.

  “What do you need from me?”

  I slip back into my chair. “I’m not sure. Elise drove us here because the car that followed us frightened her. She trusts you. If she says you are a good person, we believe her. She has a way of knowing these things. It would help if we can call you when something suspicious happens. Now you know about us, we can all use the phone, no matter who is out.”

  “Of course, you can. I wonder what else I can do to make you feel safer?”

  I suspect he enjoys playing the knight in shining armor, the protector of the weak and helpless, the maiden in distress. What he doesn’t know, though, is that inside me, Amadeus is getting worked up. Someone on the outside is intruding on his turf, and that’s not okay in his books. I can only grin. A little competition is always good. Anyhow, it serves him right. Where was he when Elise freaked out and cried for help?

  “This is already a huge help.”

  “Sure. How would it be if I checked on you in the mornings or the evenings? It’s only minutes with either truck or horse, so it’s no big deal.” He grins. “It’s not that I have many other things on my agenda and I often hunt in your area.”

  “That sounds good. We don’t want to become a burden though.”

  “You are not. It gives me a sense of purpose, which is a nice feeling.”

  “If you don’t mind. But promise me you’ll tell us when we get tiresome.”

  “I promise. I’ll follow you home with my truck and check if the coast is clear.”

  How can we not trust him? Do we even have a choice?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Lilly: 30 November 2015, Evening, Wright’s Homestead

  I broke the law! Nausea spreads through me like a cancerous growth infiltrating every cell until there is only a gelatin mess left where I once was. I told! I allowed the sense of a hand on my shoulder break the holiest and most non-negotiable law we live by. Never ever tell. Never tell anybody what happened and let nobody know about us, or something terrible will happen. Once people know, they can manipulate the Tribe, call out the kids, and hurt us in so many ways.

  Why can’t I stop the crying and shouting in my head? My brain needs a break. I can’t stop shivering and frightening images fill my head. I know they are not mine, but I can’t look away, can’t make them stop. One kid must be close. The edges of my vision are turning dark as if a creature of the night is descending on me.

  “Sky, please, tell the kids we need to start telling what we know to someone we trust or else we end up in a hospital again or worse. We need to find more decent people like Miss Marple or Scott. Elise said Scott is a man we can trust.”

  You’d think that’s an easy request given our well-structured system. Far from it. It goes back to the energy theory. The kids’ energy is going through the roof and Sky might not even hear my plea. Common sense has to wait until the children are calmer. I’m surprised that I’m still around, although driving the van is a struggle at the moment. What will await us at the house?

  Scott follows us in his pickup truck. I can’t tell how often we’ve glanced at him through the rear-view mirror. It’s an awkward feeling that he knows we exist. He has taken my revelation with grace. I’m impressed but cautious. This is all very new. We are not good at this trusting business. Trust is good but keeping both eyes open is better.

  That’s what I do when we arrive at the homestead. Relieved that there are no signs of the black hatchback, I park the van and wait for Scottie to pull up next to us. I like that he doesn’t look at us as if we are monkeys in a zoo you study from a safe distance. He seems to have taken my explanation well.

  “I’ll take Prince and check for unwelcome visitors. Wait for me before you go inside.” He leaves his truck and, with Prince dancing at his side, scouts out our house and the clearing. I can already tell by Prince’s playful snapping at Scottie’s hand that no unwelcome visitor is lurking about. Everything looks normal. Have we overreacted and made a mountain out of a molehill? What will he think of us, now I’ve told him we are certified bonkers?

  Amadeus whispers, his voice laced with frustration, “I could have done that. We don’t need him.” I understand why he’s irritated and wished there was another option. But I agree with Sky. We need all the help we can get even if we are lousy at knowing how to go about it.

  Before I find any words of comfort for him, Sky says, “I know you could have checked for intruders. In case there are people who want to harm us, we need outside help. You know how easily the children are triggered. If their fear goes off the scale, they’ll be in the body and then we are as helpless as a babe.”

  She’s right. Before, we lived contained and self-sufficient within ourselves like a caged animal allowing only minimal interaction with our keeper. As a free person, that’s harder to achieve. As a hunted person, that’s an impossible task. We need people or we won’t make it. We must understand that no man is an island.

  “The coast is clear.”

  Scottie’s voice startles me. Engrossed in the conversation in my head, I didn’t hear him coming. I open the door and he steps inside, checks the upper floor first, and then the ground floor.

  “It’s all safe.” He closes the laundry door and grins, “I like what you’ve done to the place.”

  “Hilarious. You’ve discovered your funny bone?”

  “You said the same about my place.”

  “That’s true. I had a good excuse though.”

  Before I can explain the internal fight I had about revealing our secret to him, I’m sliding to the side. Someone else has urgent business, it appears. Toby is slipping past me. He must have gathered all his courage to come out and talk to Scottie.

  “Can you show me how to use the gun?”

  “Pardon me?”

  “I’d like to know how to shoot the gun when the bad people come.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m Toby, Maddie’s friend. I make sure that Maddie is not getting lost.

  “That’s great. We all need friends like that. How old are you, Toby?”

  Toby puffs up his chest and beams. “I’m five years old. Almost grown up.”

  “I can see that. Guns are not for little children though.”

  “I’m not a little child.”

  “I think I better ask Lilly or Elise before I show you how to use a gun.”

  “Lilly is not the boss of me.”

  “No? But someone has to be.”

  “I listen sometimes to Ama, Maddie’s mummy. And there is Sky. We all listen to her. But Sky doesn’t say much. She lets us do what we want.”

  “So Ama is your mother? Maybe I should speak to her.”

  “No silly. Ama is our mummy. We don’t have a mother. We don’t need a mother. Mothers are bad.”

  “That may be true for some, but sometimes mothers are kind and loving. I happen to have a mother like that.”

  “She never hits you or pokes you with long sticks?”

  “No, of course not. Maybe you’ll meet her one day. Sometimes she visits me. When she does, she brings me yummy cookies.”

  I could tell that Toby got utterly confused and even a little stressed with Scottie’s description of his mother. In his little world, all mothers are bad. That was his experience and hearing not all mothers are like that puzzles him. He forgets all about learning how to use a gun, and slips inside, quick like a squirrel that rushes up a tree into safety and makes space for Elise.

  Elise? That wasn’t the plan. I try to pull her back inside, without success. I’m surprised, though, that I’m not totally gone. It’s as if we occupy the body almost at the same time
, she up front and I just a step behind her. I can’t express how strange and odd it feels. We dodged a bullet by not having a gun in the house, that much is clear. A gun in the house and Toby handling it is not on my list of improvements we should pursue.

  Elise looks befuddled. I wish she would pay more attention when she’s inside. She has yet to learn to come out and improvise so that, whatever happened before with another part, continues as seamless as possible.

  “Is everything okay?” Elise looks at Scottie, I guess, in the hope to figure out why he’s standing in the middle of her living room.

  “Wow. That was a big shift.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you shifting from a little boy into you. It’s Lilly, isn’t it?”

  Now Elise is short of panicking and I put my hand on her shoulder. I’m obviously not as good as Sky with the hand-on-the-shoulder-trick because Elise doesn’t calm down.

  “I don’t know what you mean. Did you bump your head again?” She goes up to him and studies his head wound. “I’m glad to see your scar is healing well. Do you still have headaches?”

  “Not at all. Thank you again. You may not remember you came to my place because a black hatchback followed you.”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “I promised to come over and see that everything is as it should be.”

  “Thank you, that is very kind of you.”

  “You don’t know what we talked about?”

  “Of course, I do. We talked about the car following me. And you said you’ll help me.”

  “I will. I promise. You also told me about being a multiple and having different people living inside your mind.”

  Elise is blushing and turns tomato-red in the face.

  “Oh, yeah, sometimes I say things like that. But you don’t have to pay much attention to it. It’s a story I tell sometimes to make my boring life seem a bit more interesting. Best you forget about it.”

  “Sorry I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

  “I’m not. It’s just a story I tell. It’s nothing to worry about.”

  Scottie goes to the door and turns around. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning. If something unusual happens tonight, please ring me. Best to put me on speed-dial.”