by Reid, Angela
We walked to a nearby Chinese restaurant and chatted for two hours. I discovered he was a tax lawyer with his own firm. Although I had no real interest in tax law, I still found myself captivated by him. I liked the way his mouth moved when he talked, and by the end of the meal, I found myself wanting to kiss him. My wish came true when we left the restaurant and reached my car which was still at the bookstore.
“I had a great time, Ellia,” he said, taking one of my hands. “Can I call you? I would love to see you again.”
I took his other hand in mine. “That would be nice. Perhaps we can cook together sometime. You could show me what you’ve learned,” I smiled up at him. He leaned in, as did I, and we kissed. He gave me butterflies in my stomach, something I hadn’t experienced since Cade died. When we parted, I got in my car and thought about what it meant. Guilt flitted at the edge of my mind, but the prospect of finding a normal, fulfilling life excited me. I touched my fingers to my lips and voiced his name out loud to see how it sounded when connected to my own. I had no close friends, just co-workers with whom I occasionally had lunch or dinner. I lived cocooned inside an emotional barrier, where no real feelings ever touched me, so this new development sat on the edge of terrifying.
As soon as I walked through my door, the phone rang, and we talked half the night. I fell asleep with hope in my heart.
That meeting started my second love affair, and though it paled next to the red-hot, passionate, nearly desperate affection I had for Cade, things were good—Matt was comfortable. The first time we had sex, I felt shy--timid. That bold self-assuredness I’d always possessed with Cade, seemed missing. My blonde-haired boyfriend began in a gentle manner, customary to his nature, but I found myself bored, releasing my mind to wander. I thought of Cade, remembering the way he electrified my every nerve, and in response to that memory, my body reacted at once. I took control of the situation, forcing him to step up the pace and give me what I needed. After we finished, sweaty and wore out, he stared at me with a look of awe. I laughed, knowing I had rocked this placid tax lawyer’s world.
The relationship satisfied me in a contented sort of way. It lacked the deep emotion and intensity I shared with Cade but not by any fault on Matt’s part. I’d love no one that way again. Things moved fast for us after that, and by six months, Matt wanted me to move in with him.
“Why won’t you even consider it?” he asked, laying in the bed next to me. “It just makes sense, Ellia. I love you, and we are together almost every night, anyway. Wouldn’t it be easier than hauling our stuff to each other’s houses all the time?”
“I’m just not ready, Matt. I care about you very much, but I like things the way they are. My house would miss me, and I would miss it.” I smiled at him, trying to lighten the mood, but he remained disgruntled. I sighed and flipped onto my back. “Come on babe, we are in a good place, so why ruin it?”
“I guess I don’t understand your reluctance. Our lives would be better, not worse, if we lived together fulltime. Do you think a ring would change your mind?” he asked, turning on his side to stare at me.
Fear ran through me, and I prayed he wouldn’t propose. I wasn’t even ready to live with him, let alone marry him. It seemed clear, he didn’t recognize the core of me. “No, Matt, it wouldn’t change anything, and I wouldn’t take it. Please understand, living together is not an ethical or moral question for me, it’s a personal issue. I don’t know how to express my feelings any clearer—I’m not ready.”
“You have serious commitment fears based on something you experienced as a teenager, I get that, but it’s time to let go of the past and live in the present. Do you love me?” he asked, still looking at me, his big blue eyes so sad he broke my heart a little.
I leaned over and kissed him, then rolled him onto his back as I straddled him. “Don’t I show you how much I care about you on a regular basis,” I said, trailing my hands seductively down his chest while wearing my wicked smile. Sex seemed a sure deflection.
He pushed me off of him and sat on the edge of the bed. “This isn’t about sex, Ellia, why do you have to always bring it back to that? What the hell are you running from, anyway? I don’t understand why you can be so fully present physically, but you fade away for anything real or deep.” He was correct, and even though I shared the story of Cade’s tragic drive-by shooting, he did not comprehend the depth of pain I still carried. Fear seized my heart every time I tried to allow myself to love Matt like he deserved.
Hoping to diffuse the conversation, I scooted over to him and wrapped my arms around him. “Matt, I’m sorry I can’t be what you need me to be, but I am doing the best I can. I’m not saying I will never move in, or won’t ever accept a ring. All I am expressing is that I am not ready yet. Can you be patient, or do you want to end things here? Whatever you choose, I’ll understand.”
“Would you be upset at all if I ended things right now? I am not sure you would. I tell you I love you all the time, but it seems like torture for you to say it back.” He turned and looked me in the eye. “Do you love me or not?”
The complicated answer, hung in my mouth. Yes, I loved him, but not the way he loved me. The hurt in his eyes at my hesitation, forced the words out of my lips, anyway. “Of course I love you,” I finally said, and found myself surprised it didn’t sound contrived in the least. “I guess I didn’t realize how infrequently I told you, and I’m sorry. Please don’t give up on me.” I kissed him again, hoping to bring the uncomfortable conversation to an end. We made love again, and after he fell asleep, I got up and went back to my own home, where I belonged.
A few weeks later, he surprised me with the trip to Canada, and I feared he might use the opportunity to put a ring on my finger. The answer would still be no, and it would hurt him again. The chance never came though. Cade abducted me, and Matt perished. Whatever he had planned had died with him. I hoped his family had given him a beautiful burial, and I prayed they didn’t hate me for not being able to attend. His death caused a painful guilt I would always carry. He deserved so much better than me. He’d been a good man.
***
So deep inside my head after three days in the blackness, my perception of reality seemed skewed. I had a raging fever again, but the hallucinations of giant spiders and biting ants, might have been from my own decent into insanity.
After what felt like infinite hours, I heard the door open with great commotion, and the light flickered to life. I hid myself deep in the corner, hoping all the arachnids and insects veiled my body and made me invisible. People yelled my name, yet I couldn’t quite grasp from who or where the sound came. When hands touched my raw skin I screamed, convinced Salt-and-pepper returned to rape me again. The touch landed gentle on my back and eased me out of my corner. Cade loomed above me, a halo of brightness behind his head, and I believed I had finally crossed over to heaven.
The nightmare woke me up as my throat constricted, strangling the scream I wanted to expel. I opened my eyes, not knowing where I was. My brain seemed scrambled, and I gleaned there might be something seriously wrong with me.
“Ellia, honey,” he whispered. “It’s me, baby; no one will ever hurt you again. It’s over now, it’s over for good this time.” I trembled with fright and confusion. He pulled me up into his arms and held me though my own arms remained limp at my sides. He rocked me back and forth, while his tears wet my shoulder. I wanted to hold him but my arms wouldn’t go around him; they refused to cooperate. “I’m so sorry, Ellia. I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you. They’ll never hurt you again. I swear it’s over, babe. You need to come back, El, please.”
His words confused me. What does he mean come back to him? I am right here. He is holding my body. Am I dead? Fear settled on me like a scratching claw as I wondered if I was in the morgue. No, Ellia, you are not dead. You can see him and feel him hugging you. A ghost wouldn’t be able to sense his touch. There is something wrong with you. Maybe you are paralyzed—what if Salt-and-pepper snapped your spine wh
en …? No … Put that away we can’t think about that.
I had no control over the being I inhabited. A body that had become dead weight, trapped me even though its heart still beat, and its blood still pumped. The pain left my body on both a physical and mental level.
When I didn’t respond to him, he laid me back down on the bed, his face wet with tears. He brushed the hair off of my forehead and looked into my eyes, but I couldn’t bear the anguish I saw in them. In a merciful gesture, this body closed its eyelids, so I didn’t have to see his pain.
Days of the strange separation of my mind and body continued. The doctors and nurses came and went, picking at me, prodding me, and trying to elicit a response I couldn’t give them. Cade stayed with me, a shadow of facial hair thickening as the days passed. He looked as broken as me, and I wanted more than anything to reach out to him. My body refused to cooperate, and strangely, it produced no real frustration. I’d landed in a safe place, and I didn’t want to come out. The things under the blanket in my mind squirmed in their wickedness, and I feared the evil things dwelling there. If I moved from the benign spot, they might slide out and chase me. I saw glimpses of the ugliness under there in the nightmares that sometimes crept in, leaving me gasping for air.
When my physical wounds healed, and my infection and fever went away, they put my body on a stretcher and loaded me into an ambulance. I did not understand where they were taking me. Cade left me briefly and looked showered and shaved upon his return. He rode in the ambulance with me, never letting go of my hand. It didn’t seem to be a long drive to the destination, but it was hard to tell. More and more often I seemed to miss gaps of time with no way to account for them. I wasn’t sure if my body slept more, or if something else was happening. A fear took hold of me that I might disappear altogether.
They unloaded my stretcher though I didn’t understand why they had not directed me to walk. I’d been up out of bed before, my body sometimes responding to commands from other people. I had no control over when, or if, it would cooperate, but often it just did. It seemed as if someone else had a remote control to my physical form. I hadn’t been able to do it of my own will. Cade held me every day, and it killed me not being able to force my arms to return the affection. It took a toll on him. Dark shadows haunted his eyes, and he continued to lose weight. Depression came to collect another victim, and I worried about him. The tears he shed were often on the heels of long remorseful monologues where he begged me for the forgiveness I wasn’t able to give. He needed me, and I continued to fail him.
When the EMT’s rolled me inside the building and placed me in a bed, I realized they had moved me to a mental facility. The room resembled a bedroom with a twin bed, and a cot sat off to the side. Cade’s duffle bag rested on it, and I wondered if he planned to stay with me. Two men came in and did a brief physical exam. They talked about normal MRI’s, and unremarkable CT’s, and typical ECG’s, but I didn’t remember having any of those things done to my body. The doctors asked me questions, but I had no answers for them. The physicians picked up my limbs, and let go, watching them fall limply back into place. When they commanded me to lift my arms, my body responded, shocking me as usual. My traitorous form did everything the clinicians told it to do, but thoroughly ignored my requests. I pondered the secret, deciding they must have found the remote. The two men motioned for Cade to follow them outside after they finished the assessment, apparently either pleased or baffled by what they discovered. The sentiment on their faces remained unreadable.
Cade came back in sometime later, and he wore the same indecipherable mask. He sat on the edge of my bed, as he so often did, and held my hands. “I believe you are in there. The doctors think you are too. They called it a dissociative disorder, Ellia, coupled with post-traumatic stress disorder. There is hope they can help you, baby, just hang in there, and remember how much I love you.” He touched my cheek and continued to talk as he did every day. Sometimes he read books out loud, and I enjoyed that too.
“I have another update for you,” he said, one afternoon, but his words confused me, not remembering any other updates. “Your mom is home, and she’s doing better now. She wants to come and see you.” My mother? What happened to my mother and why is this the first I am hearing of it? My body’s eyes closed on their own, and I left again.
The next time awareness came, a woman stood in my room looking at me. She had brown curly hair and little square glasses that framed her big brown eyes. She appeared young, probably just a little older than me. I deemed her pretty, in a nerdy way, and she presented no sense of threat—even when I saw her with Cade.
“Hi Ellia,” she said, her voice soft and sweet, making me like her at once. “My name is Doctor Hannah Martin, but you can call me Hannah. I intend to stop by and see you every day for a little while, if you don’t mind. Your friend, Cade, is nearby, so don’t be scared. The first thing we want you to understand, is no one will hurt you anymore. You are safe here.” She talked on and on for a long time, explaining the disorder the doctors thought I had. It made sense, but the task of curing it seemed daunting. I’d lost all ability to communicate.
The days turned into weeks. Spring would arrive before long. Hannah arrived every day as promised, and Cade stuck by me faithfully. Sometimes when I came around, I’d see him working on a computer, brows furrowed, looking serious and focused. I wondered what he might be doing. Other times he would be on the phone, but with whom, I couldn’t tell. The conversations made no sense. Many times I woke to his head, or his hand, on my tummy, sleeping. Though I wished for the ability to touch him, nothing happened. Using all my concentration, I’d will him to command my body to return his affections, but he never did. Frustration at my condition set in, and I wanted out of my safe corner. Cade, who still struggled with his emotions, needed my comfort. I hoped Hannah took time to talk to him, too.
My breakthrough came one morning while Cade lay asleep with his head on my abdomen again. I tried to force my dominant hand to move, and I concentrated so hard, I thought my skull would explode. And then I did it. My hand moved off the bed and touched Cade’s stubbly face. I studied his features with my touch, and he awoke. He didn’t respond though, and he didn’t speak, just stayed where he was and let me touch him. I wiped away the tear that fell from his eye. I felt myself slipping away though, and it made me angry. With no choice, I let go of the control, and my hand fell limply off of his face and back down onto the white linen. “Don’t go,” he whispered. “I need you so much, Ellia, please don’t go.” But I did anyway.
When I returned, he was sitting up in a chair reading to me again. I realized I was able to turn my head toward him and look at him with deliberate purpose. He glanced up at me and it was if we were truly looking at each other for the first time since he’d rescued me. He smiled at me, and I grinned back, without even trying. It was amazing. He got up and scooted his chair closer. He took my hand in his, and I squeezed it. Joyousness filled me as butterflies flapped in my tummy. I moved my other hand and grabbed his forearm, afraid if I let go of him, I would slip away again. His trepidation about what to do next, seemed obvious. He was anxious, if he spoke a spell might be broken, and I could disappear again. I tried to speak. “C … Ca … Ca,” I attempted to say, but my throat was dry and the words were hard to form. When he leaned down and kissed me, the memory of my father eating his own fingers flashed inside my mind. One of the black wicked things escaped the blanket. I began to cry, causing me to retreat to my safe corner, all control lost again; the darkness taking over as consciousness faded away.
I came to again in the middle of the night. The little light over my bed was on, and I could see Cade on his cot, sleeping with his arm thrown over his face. The tattoo of my initials inside the angel wings was visible, and I longed to hold him. My mind flooded with memories of high school, and his music, and his death. It was another creepy crawly from under the blanket, but I didn’t run away; I let the sad emotions fill me up again, and I cried for the millio
nth time over losing Cade when I was seventeen. A part of me understood, it was the last break down I would endure over his fake death. I was ready to move on from the past, forgive him, and love him for the man he became, not the boy he was. I reached up and took a sip of water on my own. What Hannah had been telling me for weeks, started to make sense. I had to confront my demons and conquer them if I wanted to get better. Vowing to pull one from under the blanket every single day until there remained no reason to flee, I went back to sleep on my own terms.
By the end of the week, I had most things uncovered. I had full control of my body, and a million questions that Cade still refused to answer. When Agent Rodriquez came into the room, I learned the fate of my father.
I could hear Cade arguing with Rodriquez in the hallway. “No, Lucas, I don’t want you interrogating her. She’s fragile and talking about what happened might set back her recovery.”
“I understand your concerns, but we have a job to do. This case needs to be closed, and we need her testimony to nail Camerson. Even though Meyers is dead, Camerson poses a threat to you, personally, because of your father, and to her, because she’s a surviving witness. Do you want her to have to keep living in fear?”
“Of course not, but it’s too soon.”
“No, it’s not,” I said, standing in the doorway. “Come in Agent, and I will tell you everything.” Cade opened his mouth to protest, but I held up my hand. “I need to do this. Hannah said I have to face all of it to recover, so that’s what I intend to do.”
Agent Rodriquez motioned for Agent Fattel, one of the original agents from when I was in protective custody. “Do you remember Agent Fattel?” he asked me, and I nodded. “She will sit in with us if you don’t mind.”
“That is fine.” The four of us went into the room. I sat on the bed while Cade stood by the window, looking sullen with his arms crossed. The agents sat at the small table with notepads and recording devices ready. “Where should I start?”
