by Portia Moore
“She just started crying when she saw me,” I try to explain.
“What the hell are you talking about?!” the girl says, her tone loud but her voice weak, almost pleading. My chest is tightening, like someone’s standing on it. I try to control my breathing. The last thing I need is Jenna thinking this is something it isn’t.
“She doesn’t seem to have you confused!” Jenna says angrily, eyeing the woman.
“Cal, what the hell are you trying to pull?” the girl yells. I glance back at her. At least the fire is back. My feet are finally able to move.
“My name is Chris,” I tell her, moving toward Jenna, who seems a little less angry since this girl seems to be looking for a guy name Cal. This all just has to be one big misunderstanding.
“Look, who are you?” Jenna asks. She seems more annoyed than angry now.
“I’m his wife, that’s who I am. Who the hell are you?!” the little brunette spits, and with those words I’m in hell, literally in hell. I’m afraid to even look at Jenna, but she’s laughing. She’s lost it. I’m standing in between two psychotic women.
“Ooh, I see. This is a joke. Good one, Chris. You almost had me for a minute, but you know I see right through your pranks.” She pats me on the chest. Then I realize that this has to be a joke, a prank that Lisa is pulling. I let out a little sigh of relief, but the other woman on the porch is livid. Her nostrils are flaring, eyes wide and if this were a horror movie, this would be the part when her head starts spinning or she sets the house on fire.
“Does it look like I’m joking?” she asks frantically, tears welling in her eyes. This woman is way too good to be in Lisa’s budget.
“Cal, tell her!” she demands, and I’m afraid this prank is getting way out of control.
“My name isn’t Cal,” I’m about to have an anxiety attack right here. I’ve been lucky enough to never have one of those, but I’m pretty sure this is what it feels like.
“Chris, who is she?!” Jenna yells. No one thinks this a prank anymore.
“Jenna, I’ve never seen this woman before in my life!” I shout.
“You asshole!” The brunette is now pushing me. If she weren’t so small, I’d be pushed into the door.
“You don’t know who I am now?”
I don’t know what to do. I’m trying to avoid touching her, but Jenna’s looking at me like she’s about to push me next if I don’t do something.
“Well, who gave me this?” Thankfully she’s stopped. But then she starts to pull something out of her jacket and hurls it at me. Whatever it is, Jenna snatches it up and inspects it. Oh no, please don’t let it be what it looks like.
“Chris, this is a wedding ring!” she shouts, thrusting it in my face. Jenna should know that this isn’t from me. The thing looks like it costs more than I make in a year.
“I’ve never seen that before in my life! I’ve never seen her in my life!”
“Chris, don’t lie to me!” Jenna’s shouting, and she’s starting to cry. I’ve never seen her cry before.
“She doesn’t even know my name! She’s crazy!” I shout just to get her to hear me. This is crazy. How could she think I could be married to anyone one else? I just proposed to her, that’s illegal. Jenna’s still staring at the ring. I grab her hand.
“Jenna, I swear to you. I have no idea what she’s talking about,” I try to tell her more calmly, and now the other woman is laughing hysterically.
“Who the hell is she to you? This is why you left? Is this who you left me for?!” Hazel Eyes is grabbing me now.
“He’s my fiancé!” Jenna yells at her.
“How the hell can he marry you when he’s still married to me?!” she shrieks. Now, I’m pissed. This isn’t a game or a joke. This crap she’s selling can destroy my life.
“I don’t even know you! Who are you? How do you know me?” I ask her, not hiding my anger.
“All of this time—all of this time! You’ve been lying to me and now—now! You act as if you don’t even know who I am!” She’s crying hysterically, and I instantly regret yelling at her. I feel a dull headache coming on, but that’s not happening now. I won’t black out now! She’s leaving the porch. Slowly, but leaving. I want to tell her not to drive in her current state. But the best thing for me, is for her to be as far away as possible so I can try to salvage this mess.
“I want a divorce! I never want to see you again! Don’t you ever come near me or Caylen again! I’ll send your shit through Dexter. I want it all out of my house!” she shouts. Oh no. How the hell would she know Dexter?
“How does she know Dexter? How the hell does she know Dexter, Chris?” Now Jenna is shouting at me.
“I don’t know, Jenna! This has to be a joke!” And now I’m the one who’s laughing. There’s nothing else I can do but laugh. My life is about to crumble around me, and I don’t know what the fuck is going on.
“Joke! I’m a joke?! You think ruining my life was a fucking joke?” the woman screams, now rushing towards me. She throws all her weight against me, her movements frantic and all over the place. She swings her fists at my face, and I have to grab her to stop her because if I don’t, she’ll do some serious damage.
“Get your hands off him!” Jenna screams, and attempts to tug her away from me, but I don’t need the help. This girl is pissed, but she weighs almost nothing.
I grab the girl by her waist to lift her up and carry her to the other side of the porch. When I lose my grip on her hands, she jabs one directly into Jenna’s face hard, and Jenna tumbles to the ground. I let the brunette down to try to go help Jenna, but now she’s up and rushing toward the brunette. I grab her to stop what’s about to be a fight. Jenna tries to reach over me and manages to capture a hand full of Hazel Eyes’ hair. I’m able to somehow pry her fingers loose, but I also get elbowed several times in the process. After trying to juggle both women, I pick up Jenna and carry her to the other side of the porch. I hear the door open from my house and have never been more grateful to see my dad appear, even though the brunette has calmed down.
“What’s going on?” my dad asks, looking bewildered.
“This psycho just attacked us!” Jenna yells, finally settling down in my arms when she sees my dad.
“This has nothing to do with you! This is between me and my husband!” the brunette says sharply, catching her breath.
“What?!” my dad asks her angrily.
“Tell her, Dad. She doesn’t believe me!” I plead. Will someone try to wake me up from this nightmare? The brunette is slowly moving off our porch but she seems unstable. She’s about to pass out, and I run over and catch her right before she collapses. I pick her up as my dad looks at me disapprovingly, and Jenna’s eyes shoot daggers at me. What was I supposed to do? Let her collapse on the ground?
My mom steps onto the porch, joining this freak show.
“What’s going on?” she asks, panicked.
“I’d sure as hell like to know!” Jenna laughs bitterly. My mom walks over to me and looks at the girl in my arms. Her breath catches.
“Lauren?” She looks down at the woman passed out in my arms, her eyes wide with recognition, like she’s just seen a ghost. Her lip quivers, and her hand shoots up quickly to cover her mouth.
“You know her?” Jenna and I both ask in unison. My mom looks between Jenna and me.
My dad lets out a gruff sigh and covers his face. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” His groans escalate with each expletive, and I know something is wrong.
“Honey, go lay her down in the living room and take Jenna home. When you get back, we have something we really need to tell you,” she says, tears in her eyes.
“I’m not going anywhere! Who the hell is this woman, and why do you know her?” Jenna screeches.
“Jenna calm down,” I tell her. I know she’s mad and confused. So am I, but I won’t let her scream in my mom’s face.
“I will not! Who is this? She shows up saying she’s married to you, with a ring that costs a hell of a lot
more than the one you gave me! You claim you don’t know her, but she knows Dexter. Your mother obviously knows her, and you think I’m going to be sent home like an errant child. I want to know who this woman is right now, or I swear to God, I will never speak to you again, Christopher!” Jenna says as tears stream down her cheeks.
“Jenna, please!” My dad roars, and we’re all taken aback, especially Jenna. The authority in his voice, for once, reminds me of a Crestfield.
“Please let Chris take you home. It’s not what you think. I promise you both will have answers by the end of the day; just let us take care of this for now,” his voice is calmer, but no less authoritative. Jenna looks at me, and I shake my head. I don’t know what’s going on, but I know Jenna, and my staying here will only make things worse. Besides, I really don't want to be here when this girl wakes up.
My dad comes over and reaches for the woman lying in my arms. I want to hand her over, but my body is hesitant, and I’m confused as to why I’m protective of someone I've never even met, especially with my dad. I trust him with my life. My mom looks me in the eye and reassuringly squeezes my shoulder.
“It’s okay. She’s safe with us,” she says, looking me directly in the eyes.
“Oh, FUCK me,” Jenna shouts, and I realize how this looks. I don’t understand anything that’s going on. I hand the girl over to my dad, but by the time I do, Jenna has shot down the porch and is headed toward her car.
“Jenna,” I shout, running after her. She whips around and holds her hand out.
“No. You stay! That is obviously where your concern lies right now!” She’s hysterical as she opens her car door.
“Jenna, no! It’s not like that!” I plead as she slams the door in my face. I try to open it but she’s locked it. She lets her window down.
“Stay the hell away from me, Chris. Go attend to your wife!” she yells before pulling out of the driveway. I kick the dirt and punch the air. My life has turned into a living hell. I glance up, and my dad is back in the house. My mom stands on the porch looking at me with tears in her eyes.
“How do you know her, Mom?” I’m shouting now. I know it’s not her fault, but she knows something. I’m so mad, there are tears in my eyes now.
“Christopher,” she pleads.
“Tell me!” I shout again.
“Chris.” My dad has reappeared in the doorway, and comes down to meet me. “Go after your fiancée. We’ll explain later,” he says. His voice is calm as he hands me my phone and keys, ignoring my perplexed expression. He takes my mother’s hand and leads her into the house.
I’m in the twilight zone. How is he so calm right now? I don’t take time to question him. I hop in my truck, ready to go after Jenna but slam my hands on the steering wheel. She’s not going to hear anything I have to say unless I have an explanation for all this.
I pull out my phone to call her. I see all the missed calls yesterday from Jenna, my parents, and Lisa. There are voicemails from each of their numbers, plus one unknown. I hit the prompt to play the one from the unknown number. At first all I hear is a lot of static and wind. Then it starts.
“You really are more fucking dense than I thought. All of these years, and you still think you’re just having blackouts? I don't have much time so I’ll get to the point. You can’t get married because you already are, dumbass. Talk to Dexter. Make this right, or I’ll have to do it for you. Stay away from any altars.” The voice chuckles. “No pun intended. If you don’t, there will be hell to pay. You can bet on that. Oh and by the way, since no one gave two shits to inform you, I’m Cal.”
I replay the message again and again. My hands won’t stop shaking. The scary part is, this is the second time today I’ve heard the name Cal. But, what terrifies me is the voice in the message is mine.
Chapter 21
This is a joke. Some sick, messed up, twisted joke. I slam my phone into the steering wheel as Dexter’s voicemail comes on for the thousandth time. Who did I piss off to deserve this? My whole life I’ve tried to do the right thing; listen to my parents, treat people with respect, follow the rules, and I end up with a brain disorder that causes me to have blackouts and amnesia.
Then, after everything that’s happened today, I get this voice on my phone—this asshole on my phone—adding a million questions to the hundred I had before even listening to the message.
How could this person sound just like me? Who am I kidding? It doesn’t sound like me, it is me. But how? It’s impossible. Why would I call myself Cal? It couldn't have been me. The worst part is, today of all days, this girl shows up claiming that I’m her husband whose name happens to be Cal. I’m afraid to put the pieces of all this together.
“Make this right, or there will be hell to pay!” Who the hell does this guy think he is to threaten me? Why would I threaten myself at all? This can’t be real. Maybe it isn’t my voice. I want to run back in the house and let my parents listen to the message, but the girl is still there. I definitely can’t deal with that right now. And why would I talk to Dexter about fixing this instead of my parents? I call Jenna, and pray for her to pick up. If anyone can tell if this isn’t my voice, it’ll be her.
“Don’t call me anymore, Chris!” she yells at me.
“Jenna. I really need to see you,” I plead.
“Oh, you need me? What about the wife you were oh-so-protective of? The one you supposedly don’t know?” she says sarcastically. I’m really starting to rethink letting her listen to this message.
“Jenna, I’m scared,” I interrupt. I’ve always been honest with her, and I hope that will count for something. There’s a long pause.
“I’m on the corner of Fourth and Higgins,” she says and hangs up the phone. Fourth and Higgins is only about three minutes away. I don’t usually speed, but today is an exception. I see her car parked right on the corner. I get out and walk to the driver’s side.
“Can I get in?” I ask. The scowl she gives me answers that question. I try to think of the best way to preface the message. To explain to her that I don’t know why this voice sounds like me, and the fact that it’s talking about things I have no idea about. I really need her help in figuring this out.
“What? You’re really making me nervous!” she says, looking up at me. I know there’s no disclaimer that can prepare her for what she’s about to hear. I just hope that she’ll say it isn’t me. Maybe she’ll say we’ll figure this out together, but that’s being really optimistic. I take a deep breath, play the message, and watch her face go from angry to horrified.
“What the hell, Chris?!” she says angrily. My stomach drops. This conversation isn’t going to go how I hoped.
“Is this a fucking joke?” she yells at me.
“Jenna, that isn’t me,” I say hopelessly. It sounds like me, but it can’t be.
“Bullshit! It sure as hell sounds like you! How could … why are you doing this?” She starts to cry.
“That’s not me Jenna. I don’t know how this is possible, but it’s not me,” I plead with her. “Why would I do this, Jenna? Why?!” I tell her as she rolls her window up. I stick my arm in to prevent it from closing completely.
“What am I supposed to say to this?” she screeches
“I don’t know,” I say, exhausted. “Help me figure this out, I need you,” I plead with her.
“You’re saying this isn’t you, but it sounds a hell of a lot like you. You’re saying—you’re saying you’re fucking married in the message, right after this crazy woman shows up and says she’s your wife. I’m starting to think maybe you’re the crazy one, and she’s sane!” she says, her voice straining.
“If I were lying, why would I let you listen to this, Jenna?” I shout back at her. She’s shaking her head furiously. Jenna has always been analytical, and able to cut through bullshit. She can tell if someone is lying before they open their mouth, but now she can’t do any of it.
“Help me think, Jenna. What are the reasonable explanations for this? You’re in l
aw school. You’re all facts, right? What are the facts here?” I grab the back of my head with one hand in frustration, keeping the other in her car window since I’m still not sure she won’t pull away if I move it. She lets out a sigh.
“Get in, Chris,” she says defeated. I do so immediately, but she won’t even look at me.
“Let me see the phone,” she says, letting out a deep breath. I hand it to her and she replays the message. Her face is now stoic. She plays it again, and again, and it makes me cringe each time.
“This is your voice, but it doesn’t really sound like you at all. The tone, inflection, phrasing are all wrong. You hardly ever swear,” she sighs again and rubs her temples.
“He says I haven’t figured it out,” I say, referring to the voice as another person because it’s not me. Not in a million years.
“About him. It has to be. He’s introducing himself at the end of the call. He’s smug and arrogant because he knows more than you do. But your lack of information has screwed him.”
“Why is he saying I’m married? Why would he even care that we’re getting married? I don't know this guy.” I fold my hands together tightly. She rests her head on the steering wheel, and after a few seconds, her head pops up. She finally looks at me, her expression pained.
“What?” I ask, afraid to hear what she's about to say.
“Because he is you,” she says quietly.
“Jenna, that’s not me.”
“Yes, it is. It all makes sense.” Realization is dawning on her. “This woman showing up, your mom knows her, your parents…” she sighs.
“No, that isn’t me!” I shout angrily.
“What if these blackouts aren’t just blackouts? What if it’s more than that? What if you’re conscious and doing things you don’t remember, in an alternate state of mind?”
“No. That’s impossible.” I shake my head. No way. No way could that be possible.
“It makes sense,” she says sharply.
“How? How could I do that without anyone knowing?” I ask defensively.
