by Portia Moore
“So, is Chicago where you plan on staying?” He turns to me and my heart clenches.
“Well… I just… I thought you’d be happy here too,” I am confused. I thought that he’d prefer to be here instead of Michigan after everything that has happened.
“I’m just worried about my mom being there…” he trails off and I nod in understanding.
“Have you talked to her yet?”
I wonder what it was like for Mrs. Scott to be told by Collin that Chris was coming back. Was it as surreal to her as it was to me?
“No, I’ve been with Helen all day.”
I look at him unable to hide the surprise on my face. His appointment with Helen was at one, and it’s a little before eight now. “You want to see upstairs?” I ask him and he smiles, but it’s a ghost of the ones he used to have. I lead him to the back of the gallery and take the stairs to my office.
“Wow, this is really big.” He takes a seat on the dark grey sofa I purchased last week.
“Well, I set it up like this for when I have Caylen here or if I’m working late.” I try to make myself loosen up. I head to the mini fridge and grab a bottle of water. I have everything here I could need. There are two sofas, my desk, computer, television, Caylen’s toys, and my art supplies. His eyes dart around the room before landing on me.
“I can’t believe you did all of this while I was gone.” I look away from him not knowing what to say. How would I feel if I was gone and he moved on in life with someone else… actually that did happen. I push away the thoughts of Jenna.
“I’m glad.”
My eyes widen in surprise. I didn’t expect that response.
“Your life shouldn’t be at a standstill because of… us,” he says the last part begrudgingly.
“I’m tired of losing time like this, two months with you and Caylen and my family just gone…” his beautiful face is full of confusion. I walk toward him and take his hands.
“We’re going to get through this. Everything’s going to work out in the end,” I give him my most convincing smile. He looks at me with a sheepish grin on his face. Now that’s the one I remember, that’s what I miss.
“Helen said that she could help me try to remember—to not have so many lapses,” he says hesitantly. I sit beside him.
“That’d be great, Chris.”
“I just… I hate to put all of my faith in her—in any Crestfield,” he says his face darkening. I nod in complete understanding.
“But after seeing her today, I felt like there was hope. Not hope in there being a magical fix one day, but hope in the present that I can have some sort of control.” He looks me directly in the eyes, a pained expression on his face. I wrap my arm around his and rest my head on his shoulder.
“Will you come with me to my next session?” I sit up and look at him, his eyes warm.
“Of course I would,” I am unable to hide my smile. He smiles so wide I see both his dimples.
“I just know that she can’t hide things from both of us,” he laughs and I smile. Completely flattered that he’d let me in on something so difficult and personal. Collin never invited me to come to his sessions.
“Do you have office supplies up here?” he asks me and I nod pointing to the storage locker at the other side of the office. He stands up and walks quickly to it. He opens it and scans it quickly and begins pulling out items. He carries them over to where I’m sitting and lays them all out in front of me. There’s a calendar, a yellow notepad, pens, and sticky notes. He sits down beside them and looks at me.
“Before I knew about my condition, I used to keep calendars of the days I remember and the days I didn’t.” He flips to the month that we’re in and marks it.
“I need your help,” he says quietly, his voice and expression vulnerable. I swallow hard and, I take the pen and flip three months back from today.
“I think we can start from here,” I tell him with a small smile. We go over the days starting from when we found out about Lisa and his dad. I believe that was the day Collin took over. We walk our way through the calendar to when Cal came back and the day after when he became conscious again. Then we walk through the days until this morning. I promise him that any day he’s not here I’ll journal so he won’t miss a thing when it comes to me or Caylen again. I promise until he’s better I’ll make sure he doesn’t miss anything. As I look at all the days he missed—the things he won’t get to experience—the gravity of the situation—his pain, his plight— hits me like a truck and I bite my lip and demand myself to not let any tears escape.
“If anything happens to me, you promise to never forget me?” His question causes my heart to break. He gives me a playful smile, but his eyes show his fear and uncertainty.
“Why would you say that, Chris?” I gently cup his face in my hands, and I see the love in his eyes for me. He still smiles for me, and it’s playful, but his eyes give him away. “Did Helen say something to you?” I ask him and he leans back on the couch.
“No, she didn’t but… With this Collin guy appearing and him knowing so much… it’s not like I’m in a fair fight. I’m being tag-teamed and my hands are tied behind my back,” he says lightly, but I can feel the weight of his words.
“I could never forget you. I’d never choose to, and that isn’t something for you to worry about.” His eyes smile at me, and I wrap my arm around him and take in his scent, and then I feel his arms wrap around me. I ignore how hard my heart is beating and the stinging sensation in my chest because I really have no clue if there is something to worry about. What I do know is that as far apart as I once thought Cal and Chris were, with Collin added into the mix, it no longer seems as if they’re broken but shattered into pieces. What scares me is if they’ll ever be able to be put together again.
“Christopher!” My mom squeals before she’s even fully in the house. She jumps in my arms squeezing me like she did when I was a little boy. I don’t know who’s holding who tighter—me or her.
“I’m so glad to see you, my boy,” she says after I put her down. Just her being here makes me feel better—like things aren’t impossible and that I can get through anything. If she could get through cancer, I can get through this. I remind myself that I have people on my side. Even if Cal and Collin have the memories and if Helen is telling the truth that I can start to be more conscious when they try to take over—if I can stop the times I switch out—maybe I won’t need integration. I don’t believe for a second it’s what either of them wants regardless of how impartial Collin pretends to be.
“I’m so glad to see you, mom.” I’m unable to contain the smile on my face. I shut the door behind her, and she beams at me like I’m her most prized accomplishment. She looks good— her eyes vibrant, and the warmth I’ve always known her to have is still there. I wasn’t sure if what my dad did with Lisa would put the light out.
“Wow, look at his place.”
“Not exactly my style,” I chuckle and she smiles knowingly.
“You cut your hair,” she laughs, and I rub it self-consciously.
“He was wearing a ponytail, Mom,” I mutter, and she takes off her coat.
“I like it, it looks good on you.” She puts her coat on the back of the chair.
“Do you want me to take you to your room?”
“Where is Caylen and Lauren?” she waves off my question.
“Lauren went to pick up Caylen from her friend Angela’s house. She kept her yesterday for us after Collin told Lauren that I was coming.” Her smile flattens when I say his name. “What did he say to you when he called?”
She lets out a small breath. “Collin, he’s very polite I’ll say that. Impeccable manners,” she laughs, and I can’t help but frown. “He asked me to come and assist you after your return, and I’m so glad he did. I’ve missed you so much, Chris.” She takes my hand in hers.
“I guess calling you was the one good thing he did,” I admit. Then I laugh. “Oh wait, he bought Lauren a gallery, he is amazing at h
is job and no one has anything bad to say about him,” I laugh bitterly. She frowns at me.
“Christopher, I won’t have anything bad to say about anyone who cooperates in keeping your life in order,” she says in a way that makes me feel like I’m five again. “How are you doing? With everything?”
“I’m dealing with it. To find out that I’m really a Crestfield and about my birth parents still doesn’t seem quite real yet,” I tell her and she grips my hand tightly. “But I’m more worried about you,” I tell her honestly. She smiles slightly.
“You cannot worry about me, son. I am a fighter, and I will always be fine you know that,” she reassures me.
I know she’s a fighter. I saw her kick cancer, but I can still see the sadness hiding behind her eyes. She’s my mom, and I want her to be okay.
“It still doesn’t mean you can’t be hurt.” She smiles tightly at me, stands and gently grips both of my shoulders.
“We all will experience hurt in this life, son. The trick is to not let it change who we are—immobilize us. You can’t let the hurt define who you are.” She squeezes my shoulder and then heads to the kitchen, her eyes scanning the contents.
“I can work with this.” She flashes me a wide smile and gathers several items from the fridge.
“So you’re okay?” I ask her feeling as if I’m hovering, but I have to know she’s okay.
“I’m better than I thought I would be,” she tells me as she lines the items out on the counter. Two months is how long I’ve been gone, and I’ve seen that a lot can change in days let alone two months.
“So you and Dad…” I trail off and she glances at me.
“He’s still at the house.” She busies herself with the food items, acquainting herself with the cabinets. I don’t know where anything is to direct her.
“And you’re okay with that?”
“It is your dad’s house.” She gives me a half-smile as she lays out a cutting board and begins to peel a potato.
“Mom, have you forgiven him for what he did? Are you guys still together?” I ask her urgently. She stops peeling the potato and turns her full attention toward me.
“It’s more complicated than that.”
“If you wanted to leave him, you can Mom. You don’t have to stay with him because of me.” I mean this with everything in me. I’d hate for my mom to feel obligated to be with him after everything he did—after the lies he told, how much he hurt us.
“Of course not, Chris. You’re a grown man with his own family.” She teases me but I can’t smile back at her.
“You know what I mean Mom,” I tell her and rub the back of neck.
“Whatever ends up happening with your father and I, it’s important to me that you don’t hate him.” She touches my wrists, and I glance at her. “I know what he did was terrible, and selfish, and to some unforgivable…”
To some unforgivable? To anyone it should be unforgivable. He slept with my best friend and got her pregnant. How could anyone just let that go? I run my hand over my head and let out a deep breath. Yesterday I told myself I would have to eventually make things right with my dad but not because I want to forgive him, or because he deserves my forgiveness. The only reason is because I need him—I need as many people on my side as I can get, and I know he hates Cal and he’ll most likely hate Collin. The one thing I can depend on him for is being on my side, but just hearing her say these things makes me question if I can even speak to him without wanting to punch him in the face.
“He’s your father. I don’t want you to punish him for me,” she says adamantly. Her eyes are clouded with sadness that I didn’t see before, and that sadness doesn’t make me want to forgive him any time soon.
“He loves you so much, and there is no excusing what he did, but I know he didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think I can forgive him. Every time I think of it, I can’t get him and Lisa out of my head.” She closes her eyes tightly as if I’ve just stabbed her in the chest and I immediately regret what I just said to her.
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
“I will always fault your father for trying to hide what happened and it affecting you the way that it did,” she says quietly.
“It’s not about me. He hurt you, he lied to you!”
“I know that, Chris!” Her voice is tense but doesn’t break. We both let out a cleansing breath.
“Forgiveness isn’t easy.” She lets out another breath. “It’s not a magic moment where all of your anger and pain go away. It’s something you have to work at every day.” I can see her chin quivering, and I feel like an asswipe for bringing this up to her.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” I feel a burning sensation in my throat.
“No, it’s okay. We can’t pretend this didn’t happen. We will work through it and try to get past it.” She says this with a smile even though she’s on the verge of tears. She hugs me gently, and I hug her back. A small part of me wishes that Lisa didn’t tell me what happened, but sometimes you think you want out of the dark and when you’re not, the light is bright and burns.
“Hello, Hello.” Lauren calls out as she returns home just as my mom and I are finishing up breakfast.
“Princess!!” My mom squeals as Lauren comes in carrying Caylen. She’s gotten bigger since the last time I’ve seen her. Her smile is big and bright and makes me smile. She has a cookie in her mouth with two teeth she didn’t have the last time I saw her. My mom starts to rush over to them but stops herself realizing I haven’t seen her in months. Lauren approaches me with a smile matching our daughter’s and hands her to me. She comes easily and slaps me with the cookie.
“Hey, Cay.” She offers me her slobbered cookie, and I kiss her on the cheek, spinning her around as she breaks into a fit of giggles.
“Did you miss me, Cay?” I ask her and when she nods, we all laugh. “I missed you so much.” I kiss her on the forehead.
“You guys look so cute. I’ve got to get a picture.” My mom grabs her camera. “Big smiles,” she tells us and it’d be harder for me not to smile. She takes more than a few.
“You get in there, Lauren.” She nudges Lauren toward us. Our eyes meet, and I can’t help but see the joy glittering in them. She leans her head on my shoulder, and we take another.
“Make sure you send me those, Mom.”
“Me too,” Lauren adds.
My mom happily kicks us out of the house after Lauren and Caylen eat breakfast. Lauren and I head to Helen’s office for my appointment. It’s only a fifteen-minute walk from Lauren’s building, and for April in Chicago, it’s in the upper 70’s, which she says is magical weather for the season. The sun is bright and there’s an excited energy in the air of good things to look forward to. The weather brightens my mood and is much needed after last night. It was hard seeing the gallery that Collin purchased for Lauren and though it made me smile for her happiness, it also made me want to vomit at the same time. It’s amazing— the space, the lighting, and not too far from her house. She’s already done the decorating and groundwork and will be opening soon. Her dreams are taking shape right before my eyes and I’ve never felt happier for a person in my life, but at the same time, I honestly resent it.
Even though she didn’t say it, I know how much she loves it and how much she appreciates Collin for giving it to her. He sure made Cal and I look like self-absorbed douchebags. While all we’ve done is drive her crazy, he gave her something she could call her own—a place she could escape to—and she’ll always attribute that to him. Her opening is in three weeks and I can’t help but think that it’ll be him she wishes was there with her.
“How did things go with your mom?” she asks breaking me out of my thoughts.
“I’m glad she’s here.” I stuff my hands in my pockets and adjust them again. Lauren looks over at me curiously. “These almost feel too small, which is weird because they’re my size.” I feel a little embarrassed, and she grins at me amused.
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“They’re skinny fit, Chris. They’re supposed to be like that.”
“I should have had my mom bring my pants from home,” I mutter, and she chuckles.
“We can go shopping later, grab you some things that are more your style.” She smiles as pretty as the day I met her. I scratch the back of my head. I hate to seem like a pest or difficult, but the majority of the clothes in her closet aren’t anything I would wear. It was fairly easy to distinguish whose clothes were whose. I know that Cal’s into all things dark—most of his clothes various shades of grey and black—and everything else has a designer label attached. Collin’s clothes are out there—nothing a solid color, not a T-shirt in sight—and material that seems too expensive to wear.
“No, it seems like a waste of money. I can have my mom ship me some of my stuff here when she gets back.”
“When is the last time you’ve bought new clothes?”
“Maybe like…. two years ago… I think,” I tell her and she laughs.
“I think you can afford to splurge a little,” she teases me and she slides her hand into mine. It’s so subtle that it makes my heart jump. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to just simply hold her hand, but I instinctively keep it in mine. It feels good. Yesterday after our talk, we fell asleep at the gallery next to each other but there was space between us—or more like ghosts of multiple personalities past.
“You know we’ve never sat down and gone over your financials.”
“You mean like bank accounts?”
“Yes, your accounts, the stocks you own, it’s all yours.”
“I bet my name isn’t on anything.” I chuckle, and the smallest frown appears on her face. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to keep making things difficult.”
“No, it’s fine. I just never thought about that,” she says lightly. “I think it’s important for you to see what you have available to you. This is your life too, and it may put things into perspective as far as what you’d like to do. Maybe you could go back to school if you wanted, open your own business, start a non-for-profit.” She shrugs while smiling brightly at me.
