Chris

I look at the white envelope I found taped to the steering wheel in my car. The message on it simple:

We need to talk

—Cal

Now in Helen’s hand, she is examining it thoroughly as if it was an essay written instead of a simple sentence. A request or a demand—I keep bouncing back and forth between which it is and what it means. Helen finally lifts her head and turns her attention to me setting down the note beside her. She interlaces her fingers and looks almost past me as if she’s contemplating something.

“Okay Christopher, before we begin, I want to show you something.” She picks up the remote and turns on the flat-screen TV on her wall.

“Are we watching another testimonial?” At first, it was interesting watching videos of other people with DID share what their experience has been like. The hardest part was listening to how their family members cope with it. Seeing the sacrifices everyone has to make makes me feel guilty.

“Not today,” she says, and I look up and see myself on the screen.

“Are we on?” The moment I hear the voice I know it’s not me. It’s him. He lets out a deep sigh and leans over his knees.

“It’s me. The guy you think made your life a living hell, right?” He laughs. “Well if you think that, you’re fucking delusional. Without me, Caylen and Lauren wouldn’t be in your life. You’d probably be married to that stuck-up bitch Jenna.”

“Cal, come on. You said you’d be nice.” I hear Helen’s voice in the background. He rolls his eyes and huffs.

“Okay, let me get straight to the point. I want to do right by Lauren. I left her once because I thought I was doing the right thing. I wanted her to have someone better than me,” he says solemnly.

“Well not better—because let’s be honest it doesn’t get any better than this—but more responsible, reliable. Someone who didn’t have the shitload of baggage we do.” He shrugs. “I never wanted Lauren to know you. It always seemed like everything in life came so easy for you. I thought you’d be easier for her to love than me,” he continues. It’s so strange to watch a recording of myself and not recognize my voice or remember saying the words, but to see it, to watch it myself really hits me and makes it all so real.

“I’ve been trying to fix things for her. Make things right, and give her everything she deserves. She doesn’t deserve us fighting against each other. Telling her to pick and choose all the time. Confusing the hell out of Caylen when she gets older. You are the responsible one. The selfless one. You could be a good dad. But God, sometimes you’re a fucking pussy, man,” he says with a groan.

He’s such an asshole.

“I mean you are, and I can’t leave my girls with someone who acts like a pussy. I want to give her something she always wanted. I sure as hell can’t do it by myself. But maybe both of us together. We can give her the Prince Charming she deserves,” he says. “Helen and I have been talking, and I’m starting to think maybe this integration thing won’t suck ass completely. So what do you say, Chris? You in or you going to pussy out?” he asks cockily.

I don’t care what he says, I’m not a pussy. The video goes blank and my eyes dart to Helen. She’s quiet, obviously waiting for me to respond.

“When did you take that video?” I ask her, trying to suppress the anger I feel coursing through me. She must be reading me correctly because her eyes dart away from mine, as if the second away suppresses any guilt she has.

“It was one of your first sessions…” I shake my head as realization comes over me and I shake my head in disbelief.

“I remember that day! It was when I felt like I blanked out and lost time and you lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie to you, Chris. I just didn’t inform you of what happened because I wasn’t sure what to make of it and I had to honor his request.”

“Honor his request? What about me, Helen? What about my requests?”

“I understand why you would feel upset, but you’re missing the bigger picture, Christopher. He’s offering you an olive branch,” she explains as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. I cover my face with my hands.

“And what—I’m just supposed to accept with open arms? Now he’s ready to play nice and I just go along with it because that’s what I’m supposed to do? I just go along with the program because it’s not like I have a choice right? What about my choice, Helen?” By the time I finish my sentence, I realize my voice has gotten louder than I wanted it to, but Helen hasn’t even flinched.

“You always have a choice, Chris. You don’t have to make a decision right now. No one can make you do anything…” she continues but then she leans forward in her seat and her eyes narrow on mine, studying me.

“And why now? What’s changed so much all of a sudden that he’s become a team player and not a selfish asshole?” I ask through a laugh.

“I don’t know,” she says evenly, and I can’t help but wonder what use has she been to me. Yeah, she’s taught me more about my condition than I knew previously but anyone could have done that. I still feel like I’m back to square one.

“I don’t think this is working,” I tell her with my mind made up. I stand up from my seat.

“I can help you talk to him.” Our eyes meet and I try to read her eyes.

“Why now?”

“Because he’s obviously susceptible to it. You can ask him all that I don’t have the answers for.”

I look toward the door and back at Helen. I imagine how satisfying it’d be to just walk out and leave her sitting here. It’s what I want to do, but I know it’s not helping anyone—not myself or my family. I glance over at the screen that my face is frozen on. His face… it all blurs together. We’ve talked about co-consciousness in our sessions, communicating with them… it all seemed impossible at the time—surreal even—but the air in here is different now. The way my heart has begun to race and my muscles have tensed makes this all different. In the tape he’s how I imagined him to be—smug and arrogant.

“Can you play it again?” I watch him, his mannerisms, and it hits me hard that this guy is really me. I’m on that TV, but it’s not me. Is this how it is for Lauren? Because I’m confused, and my emotions are all over the place. I ask her to play it again, trying to get used to the fact that it’s me. Hearing his message has an eeriness to it times ten. But there is something that I recognize in both of us—in our eyes and our expressions—everything changes when we talk about Lauren.

“What would I have to do?” I ask her keeping my eyes on the screen. She turns off the video.

“Hypnosis therapy.”

“Ha.” I clasp my hands together and slouch back in my seat. The thought of Helen playing in my mind doesn’t give me any comfort.

“Contrary to what many believe, hypnosis doesn’t allow me to control you or learn all of your secrets. It’s a state of focused concentration. My only role is to be your guide.” I wipe my hand across my face. At this point I can’t think of anything I have to lose.

“Okay,” I nod. A glimmer of a smile shows on her face as she approves of my response.

* * *

“I want you to relax, Chris.” We’ve moved to a different office, and Helen is not behind her desk but in an upholstered chair across from me. The lights are dim, and there’s some type of candle burning.

“I am,” I try and assure her but my heart is beating fast and my body feels stiff.

“I’d like you to take a deep breath for three counts and then push out the air for five.” I do as she says and after about the fifth time, my heart rate starts to slow down.

“Feel your muscles relax, and your thoughts leave your mind, and focus in on my voice,” her voice is calm and low and a different tone from what it usually is.

“If you feel your eyes getting heavy, let them relax.” A few moments after she says this, they feel like bricks are on top of them.

“I’d like you to imagine a place—”

“What type of place?” I ask, but my voice comes out in a whisper.

“Where you’d like to meet.”

My eyes are closed now.

“I don’t know how,” I tell her honestly.

“Think of a place you’re familiar with. A place you know so well that you could mimic its design from the ground up.”

In less than a second, I’m in my house. My parent’s house. I’m in the living room. It’s so weird, almost eerie. Everything in its place as if I’m actually there. But I am there, and no longer in Helen’s office but standing right in front of my dad’s big arm chair.

“Do you see it? Are you there?” Helen’s voice sounds like it’s playing on a TV or a radio in another room.

“Yes.” I say, but there’s no one in the room but me.

“Good. Call him,” she instructs. “Just say his name.”

I look around my surroundings, and I’m at home—the one I grew up in. I’m no longer in Helen’s office in Chicago but in Madison, Michigan. I swear I even can smell fried pork chops. How is this possible? My stomach feels like jelly, not because this seems impossible or stupid anymore, but because it feels real, right down to the picture of Caylen sitting on top of my mom and dad’s fireplace. I swallow hard.

“Cal,” it comes out quiet, a little over a murmur and then I clear my throat.

“Are you here?”

“Look who it is.”

My stomach drops when I turn around and see me, standing in front of me. A version of myself. My hair longer, and I’m in dark denim jeans and a black T-shirt. A silver watch on my wrist gleams as the sun from the window pours in. Leaning in the doorway, his arms are folded across his chest and he’s wearing a condescending smirk.

“Chrissy boy. How are you?” he asks and I feel my face go hard. He puts both of his hands up in some sort of mock apology.

“Just kidding. You’ve got to take the stick out of your ass.” He walks past me and collapses into my dad’s chair, resting his feet on the coffee table.

“You’re quiet. I thought you’d be more talkative.”

“What is this place?” I ask still trying to get over the fact that I’m looking at myself in the flesh. He lets out a half-laugh and tilts his head at me.

“That’s the first question you ask me? Out of everything?” His face twists up in disbelief and amusement. I cross my arms and he shrugs.

“Our twisted up mind obviously,” he answers simply. He gestures to the seat across from him. “Why don’t you have a seat?” he says with a mischievous grin. I frown at him and sit across from him. “It took you long enough to get here.”

“Why did you pretend to be me?” I ask him as this is the immediate question that pops in my head. One of his brows shoots to the sky.

“I didn’t pretend to be you,” he chuckles low.

“Oh, so you tricked her?”

“We both know I don’t have to trick Lauren to do anything,” he says his tone low and his face hard even though it’s accompanied with a smile. “Look let’s not get into conversations that we’ll never agree on.” His expression goes serious. “I’m offering you a truce,” he says bluntly.

“Which means integration?” I ask him hesitantly. He shrugs one shoulder leaning back in his seat.

“Or co-consciousness. Has Helen told you all about that?”

“Where we share?” I ask him, and he laughs.

“Something like that.”

“You’d be willing to share?” I ask him skeptically. He throws his hands up and laughs.

“Why does everyone think I’m the problem child?” he asks, feigning innocence.

“Lauren said Collin wants us to integrate, so if he did say that, I’d assume that you are the problem.” His face immediately turns to stone.

“Collin is a manipulative, egotistical little prick,” he says, irritation cutting through his words. It’s my turn to laugh.

“Oh I see, so you’re switching teams?” I ask and his eyes narrow in on mine. “From my understanding, you and Collin have had some sort of agreement to keep me in the dark and that’s not working for some reason… so I’m guessing you need me now?”

“I don’t need either of you,” he says his jaw flexing.

“You must or I wouldn’t be here. I’m not that daft, Cal.”

“Collin could take over,” he says evenly, and I feel my blood go cold.

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. He’s been in practice a lot longer. He knows more than we do and he’ll be in a perfect position if we don’t work together,” he says casually but there’s an edge to his tone. I give him a disbelieving look.

“You two are the alters. If we integrate, I’ll be the one left,” I tell him, but my voice gives away my unsureness and he shoots his body forward with a wide, sarcastic smirk on his face.

“Really? And why do you think that, Chris?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you think you’re the host? Because your parents told you?” he asks with a laugh. “After all we know how forthcoming and honest they’ve been.”

I sit quietly and swallow my nerves allowing him to say everything he needs to say.

“Has Helen ever told you that you’re the host?” he asks cocking his head to the side. “Let me ask you something. If I blocked out the memory of what supposedly caused our dysfunctional little trio… wouldn’t that make me the host?” I feel my heart starting to pace unevenly in my chest at all of his questions. “Or to be completely unbiased—if Collin remembers the most out of the three of us—wouldn’t he be? If we’re adding up reasons as to who was the first, the original will be the last one standing, my bets wouldn’t be on you Chrissy boy.” An amused dare is in his tone.

“You aren’t taking bets on yourself obviously or I wouldn’t be here,” I counter.

“Maybe I’m just tired of fighting. Have you ever thought of that? Ever thought that I might like to get to spend time with my wife and daughter without being on a time clock?” he asks again. “Wouldn’t you?” he asks this time with no sarcasm in his voice. My eyes trail to the photo of Caylen.

“One thing I’ll say—I know we love them.” For the first time, his voice sounds completely genuine.

“Collin doesn’t love. He borrows emotion from me, mimics parts of both of us, and that’s as human as he gets. If he somehow managed or decided that he doesn’t need us, that’s it. We’re gone. Not only that but the girls we love will be living with a psychopath—unfeeling, calculating, and only worried about his self-preservation regardless of the consequences.” His tone is ominous and I feel my nerves spike.

“Lauren said he wasn’t that bad,” I tell him and he laughs.

“Are you listening to me, Chris? I just….” He lets out a long frustrated breath. “Keep it up, farm boy. He’s the great pretender. You remember we saw that movie where the guy kills the rich dude and takes over his life and keeps knocking other people off to keep up the façade?”

“You’re saying he’s a serial killer?” I ask sarcastically.

“Hey, I’m not going that far but without us, who knows?” I’m starting to think Cal is paranoid, and this seems to be going nowhere.

“Then what are you saying? Because as far as I know, Collin didn’t interrupt my life just to screw with me. You did!” I ask him angrily and his expression turns venomous.

“There you go again. Thinking that I interrupted your life, that you’re the golden child and I’m the ugly step kid. Every good thing that you have now is because of me. Lauren, Caylen, and the money you so sanctimoniously wanted to hand over to your half-brained friend. If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be living paycheck to paycheck married to that frigid bitch Jenna!”

It’s so strange. The anger in the room, my defiant face staring at me. His expression is hard, and he looks like how I feel. A few moments pass between our stare off. He’s me, or I’m him. This proves it even more how out of touch I am with myself. Being here is bizarre but it is another nail in the coffin to how real this is.

“You can think whatever you want about me but I love Lauren and Caylen. I’d never do anything to hurt them. We’d all go before they would.” The promise in his tone should scare me but it doesn’t. “If for some reason I knew that we were a danger to them, I’d end it all without a second thought.”

I clear my throat. “So if what you’re saying is true… wouldn’t Collin be aware of all of this?”

“Don’t let the pretty face fool ya. I’m smarter than I look,” he laughs and I hold mine back. “It’d be easier if you were on board.”

“And what do I get out of this?” He looks both amused and shocked by my question. “I’m already used to being left out—being ping-ponged between the two of you. How do you help me?”

“Look at you, graduating from checkers to chess!” He has a proud, twisted grin on his face. “Okay, we can start off with me sharing my memories with you—if you can handle them.”

“I don’t want to be caught off guard anymore. I want to know if a transition is going to happen,” I tell him. He nods.

“Just so you know the clinical terms you don’t have to use with me,” he winks.

“Deal or not,” I reiterate. He stands up.

“Deal.” He says, and I almost feel this is too easy.

“How would we—I don’t know the schedule for this…” I search for the words to ask.

“What do you think is fair?”

“I don’t know…” I didn’t really consider this.

“Every other month?”

“That seems like a long time,” I say scratching my head.

“Every week…” he sounds slightly annoyed. That seems too frequent.

“Every two weeks. And if there’s an event one of us has, we agree to let the corresponding person attend without interference.”

“That sounds fair,” he says. “But one thing—this stays between us. We don’t tell anyone—not Helen, your parents, and especially not Lauren.”

“Why not?”

“There are some things that are not quite sitting right with me that I have to find out answers to. I’m not entirely sure what role Helen plays in all of this,” he says, and I’m surprised by this because you’d think they were best friends the way Lauren describes it.

“And these things are?”

He glares at me then shrugs casually. “When I find out you will.”

“Fine…But my parents are pretty obvious, but why can’t we tell Lauren?” I ask.

“Because she should think we’re integrated. It’s what’s been hammered into her about us being ‘cured’ I don’t want her worrying about us.”

“You may be able to lie to her…”

“It’s not lying!” he says defensively. “I don’t lie to Lauren,” his voice drops dangerously low, and I wonder what he thinks this is.

“Us working together is a form of integration,” he reasons. I try to think how Lauren would react if I told her that Cal and I were decided to switch out…. co-exist would be a better word. I think she’d understand.

“Don’t puss out on me, Chris. We can discuss telling her at a later date. Let’s gauge her reaction first,” he relents. That I can go for. “And we allow access to each other’s memories and thoughts.”

“Don’t you already have access to mine?”

“Things have been a little different since I kicked Collin out of the club.” He shrugs. So he does need me.

I never imagined a day when we would sit down… or I would sit down with myself and talk. Cal explains how I can summon him if I need him. It sounds ridiculous, but this whole thing is. I let him know what he’s missed out on in the missing weeks he’s had. Still, something just doesn’t sit right with me.

“Why should I trust you?” I ask and he smiles.

“You don’t trust yourself? Look I’m you, and you’re me, and we have to act in our own best interest.”

“You thought killing someone was in our best interest?” I remind him.

“Okay, I was probably a little hasty about that… but I wouldn’t have gotten caught,” he says.

“Okay. So… how do we do this?”

“We shake on it.”

“That’s it?” I ask, and his eyebrows rise. “Okay.” And we shake on it.

“What you thought there’d be a rainbow or something?” He’s such a smug…

* * *

“Christopher?” Helen asks when I open my eyes. Her gaze is speculative.

“Yeah?”

“How did it go?” she asks.

“It was okay I guess,” I say nonchalantly.

“Were you able to speak to him?”

“Yeah, he said he’s willing to integrate for Lauren,” I clear my throat. I’ve lied more this year than my whole life, and I still don’t feel like I’m getting any better at it.

“Really?” she sounds surprised, and that makes my stomach twitch.

“Uh…why wouldn’t you think he’d want to integrate?”

“The same reason you never wanted to, Chris. But I always guessed if anyone would bring you together, it would be Lauren. Let’s go back to my office, and we’ll wrap up.”

* * *

Collin

Something is wrong. My temples are throbbing, and I know I’ve missed time. I’ve missed events before but this does not happen. Not with me. I stare at Helen who just asked something about Lauren, and then look at the screen and see my face. But it’s not me… I’m not sure who it is. How did I get here?

“What is that on the screen?” I ask, and her eyes narrow in on mine.

“C-Collin?” she asks with a bit of hesitancy. “You, don’t know?” I feel myself losing the little patience I have.

“Play it,” I tell her. She picks up the remote on her desk and plays the video. It’s Cal of course, and whatever is going on has his fingerprints all over it. As I watch I feel something I never have before. My chest is tight, and I’m on the verge of a headache.

“When did he do this?” I ask, my voice low and shaky.

“You don’t remember, you haven’t been aware?” I swear Helen is a genius. I rub my hand across my head. I remember when Chris cut all of our hair off, but now it’s longer and I can wrap it around my thumb. It’s been more than a few days—maybe even a few weeks.

“Are you okay? You don’t look like yourself?”

I press my knuckles together. “Calvin is out of control. He’s up to something, and I need to know what they’ve talked about.”

Helen displays a smile to comfort the pathetic, but it only arouses my suspicions.

“You know how it works, Collin. I only share what I’m given permission to.”

I clutch my knuckles that look paler than I recall them. “The last thing I remember…” I try to think…“Christopher was here with Lauren….” I gulp down my budding nerves because there is definitely something to be very nervous about.

“You still have not communicated with Cal?” she asks, attempting to conceal her surprise.

“He is a lot more childish and stubborn than I initially thought,” I admit. “And I want to know how he’s been able to block me out.”

“Cal shouldn’t be able to do that Collin. You’re co-conscious,” she begins to explain and I slam my fist against the table in front of me.

“I know what he should not be able to do but he is doing it. I have no idea what has been happening or what day it is.” I growl.

“Collin, this isn’t like you.”

“That’s what I mean! Something is very off.” I try to remain calm but stress the importance that she helps set this right. I don’t know what’s going on with these two. Cal thinks he’s so smart, but I’ve been at it a lot longer than he has.

“Would you allow me to speak with him?” she asks, and I laugh.

“I’m not letting him out,” I scoff. Her lips press together in a tight line.

“Then this is where the problem lies, Collin. You are supposed to be the neutral party, the level-headed presence, unbiased…” she trails off. “Would you like to talk to me about what has changed?”

I suck in a breath trying to maintain my composure. Life happened. Calvin went on the fritz, and then Chris wouldn’t function right and I had to man the ship longer than I imagined doing. Lauren happened. She cared for me, loved me, and desired me, and I realized I could make things better than either of them. They made things worse, and Calvin’s selfish antics only highlights the fact that I would be the best father to Caylen and husband to Lauren. They are incapable and ruin all they touch.

“I want to start Naltrexonel…”

Her eyebrows rise. “Last I checked I’m the doctor, Collin.”

“Okay, let me put it this way. You write my prescription, or I decide to let Calvin walk through the door…” I tell her, meeting her eyes. “The door to the room, Helen. The one your employer wouldn’t want him to go through… the person who writes your checks, who this entire empire stands on.” I watch her gulp.

“What are you referring to, Collin?” She studies me as I search her expression and wonder does she know… maybe she doesn’t. After all, she’s just a limb, not the brain.

I stand from my seat. “Never mind. I’ll have your boss make the call,” I tell her, throwing her a dismissive glance.

“Collin, don’t you think we need to talk about this?” She stands and walks toward me.

“I think we’ve talked enough,” I tell her before closing the door to her office. I pull out my phone and see that I have a text from Lauren asking me to meet her at the gallery. She's just the person I want to hear from.

* * *

“I’m up here,” Lauren calls out as the security system announces that I’ve entered. I look around and take in my surroundings. After finding out the date, I’ve realized I’ve been shut out for weeks. The gallery, already in pristine condition when I bought it, has come a long way. Paintings are hung, lighting fixed, floors buffed. There are boxes and equipment for the opening everywhere. I head up the stairs and am reminded of what a vision she is when I see her. Her hair is piled in a knot on the top of her head. Her eyes are bright in the way I imagine angels would look.

“This morning was rough. I wanted to apologize again for everything that happened,” she says, and I look at her curiously. What exactly happened this morning? She lets out a soft sigh and hugs herself.

“This is still new to me, and confusing at times, and I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt any of you,” her voice breaks, and I don’t know what I’ve just walked into.

“It’s hard dealing with this sometimes. It hurts me when you hurt—or when any of you hurt. I just want everyone to be happy, and I don’t know how to do that and am trying so hard.” She covers her face with her hands, and I wrap my arms around her and kiss her head.

“You’re not mad at me anymore?” Her voice sounds childlike.

“No, I’m not.” I feel her relaxed body become stiff in my arms, and she leans back to look up at me.

“Collin?” She asks with a guess in her voice, and I nod. Her chin drops to her chest. I release her from my embrace.

“You’re disappointed?” She looks up at me—she’s smiling but there are tears in her eyes.

“None of you disappoint me.” She’s exasperated and walks to the other side of the room to collapse onto the couch.

“Nothing ever gets settled or fixed. When it’s a problem to solve, you run away—not you but—you know what I mean.” She laughs, but it’s mirthless.

“What happened?” I ask as I sit beside her. She sniffs and looks at me curiously.

“I thought you know everything that happens?”

“Yeah, I thought I did.”

She finally sits up and wipes her eyes. “Cal came back and he didn’t let me know it was him. Chris was upset that I couldn’t tell them apart so now he’s mad at me. I’m so annoyed with Cal for not telling me and now… you’re here, and I’m sure I’ll get blamed for that too,” she says.

This is why they have to go. This isn’t a happily married woman—this is a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown. When I was here she was never like this—she was happy, productive, and loved. They’re both too selfish to deserve her, and to deserve this life. I hook my arm around her and she rests her head on my shoulder then curls her body into mine. This is what they’re supposed to do—bring peace—but all they bring is the war. And it’s why they should be extinct.

“Everything is going to work out fine,” I promise her.

“No it’s not! You guys hate each other.” She laughs miserably. “And I’m stuck in the middle of this.” I take her face in my hands and turn her towards me, her big hazel eyes full of sadness and uncertainty.

“I promise you… things are about to get a lot better.”

“You mean the gallery opening?” she asks.

“No, I mean we’re going to be integrating,” I tell her and her eyes go wide.

“What?” Her eyes crinkle in disbelief or maybe confusion.

“We’ve all agreed. We want what’s best for you and Caylen.”

“I-I don’t know what to say.” She’s so stunned that she begins to pace the floor.

“I thought that it took years, that you all had to agree…and this morning Chris was just furious at Cal and now you all agreed to be one?” she asks skeptically.

“I explained to them what this is doing to you. We talked it over, and we don’t want to be a hindrance to your happiness. We want Caylen to grow up with a normal father and for you to have a normal husband.” I watch her brows draw together. “I thought you’d be happy,” I ask a little shocked. She gives me a small smile.

“It sounds good, but I want you all to know that I don’t care about normal. I’ve never been ashamed or embarrassed of you, and I never will be. I’m just tired of the fighting—of being the bad guy.” Her sadness takes over her beautiful features.

“There won’t be any more,” I promise her. “I know this is a lot to take in, especially before your opening, but I have to say it’s an honor for me to be here for it. I’m so happy to see you be the woman you were always capable of being. We never wanted to hold you back.”

“You didn’t hold me back.” She gives a slight shake of her head, but we both know the truth.

“I’m still a little in shock over what you just told me that I can’t even think about the opening right now. How will this integration work? When is this supposed to happen? I-I’m just...” she sounds more bewildered than relieved. I tilt my head and look at her, studying her reaction.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” I ask her, and for a moment her face goes blank.

“It’s never been about what I want,” she mutters. I feel my skin heat up, and I walk to her but she doesn’t look at me.

“I’ve never asked you but… if you had to choo.—” Her furious glare makes me stop mid-sentence.

“Really, Collin?” she asks in disbelief. “You of all people should know… I thought that you got it,” her voice is strained, and I immediately regret asking.

“I’m sorry. I know. I do understand.” I tell her. I did understand once upon a time. It seems so long ago, and now I feel like I don’t understand anything. I do feel that she owes us some sort of an answer. If she had to choose, why wouldn’t it be me? I bought her this gallery. I’m the most stable one. I’m not as weak as Chris and not hot-tempered and unreliable like Cal. It should be me. She’s right, there isn’t a question because the answer doesn’t matter.

It will be me.