Soulmates
23
Rethinking
Jaime and Keira and Angus
ON SATURDAY, Jaime and Keira went to the ballet they’d intended to go to the previous week. They’d been feeling pretty down since their Wednesday non-encounter with Trayce. Friday night, they played games with David and Olivia, then Jaime took Keira home. Their kisses were slow and less passionate than usual, both wanting simply to be held.
Instead of scanning the audience for anything other than signs of danger, they simply sat and held hands as they were swept away by The Nutcracker. Like the rest of the audience, they were caught up in the music and the beauty of the dance, thinking of nothing at all but the performance.
Their parting after the ballet was more loving and caring than passionate. They sank into each other’s minds and let that deep connection carry them through the night. On Sunday, both teens awoke refreshed and still in contact with each other. They headed for their usual Sunday walk in the park.
«Calling Mr. Angus,» the two united their minds. «Are you in the park today?»
«You kids? Not yet. Is it important?»
«We kind of need some help about a guy who is stalking head talkers.»
«I’ll be there in twenty minutes,» Angus said. «Don’t broadcast any more.»
The two just walked around the perimeter of the park, holding hands, and talking quietly. It was only fifteen minutes when they saw the bearded old man in a utility kilt, carrying a silver headed cane. They didn’t call out to him, but walked toward him.
“Tell me about it,” he said shortly.
«There’s a guy who has…» Jaime began.
“Use your voice.”
“He doesn’t have a voice,” Keira said. “He signs. I’ll interpret.”
“A guy has been close to me twice who has spotted me and intends to grab me,” Jaime signed. “He’s convinced that if he has enough of us together, he can use a gestalt of some kind to force people to do his will.”
“The last time he was approaching Jaime, he said he needed three and knew the third would come when he grabbed Jaime,” Keira continued.
“What have you done?” Angus snarled, stepping back, and clicking the release on the dragon head that would free the sword from the cane sheath. “He wants three, so you conveniently lead him to the third so we’re all together?”
“He doesn’t know we’re here. We surveyed all around before you got here. He’s not here.”
“He could be shielding.”
“He’s not one of us,” Jaime signed. “He thinks he can identify us, but he can’t hear.”
“I don’t think he knows me, either,” Keira said. “But we have a girlfriend who could be in danger because she doesn’t believe in her ability. She thinks we’re all just characters she’s writing about. She wouldn’t recognize if he was near.”
“Let’s go to my place and smoke a bowl. It will help me think.”
“We’re only eighteen, Mr. Angus. We don’t smoke.”
“Course you don’t,” he sighed. “Where were you when he identified you?”
“Grocery store,” Jaime signed and Keira interpreted.
“Where’s the girlfriend?”
“We don’t know where she lives. She goes to Rose Community College two days a week.”
“There was a guy a few years ago—well maybe twenty—who advertised for telepathic research studies. I decided to investigate. He matches your description. Wanted to use a command voice to force people to follow him. Grandiose picture of himself as the governor and then the president in his head. He had a girlfriend at the time who could hear and he was looking for more. No matter what they did, she couldn’t make him hear. I thought they’d given up. If he still has her and has found a way to make him hear, he’ll be dangerous.”
Angus thumped his cane on the ground a few times, relatching the sword. Then he looked up at them from beneath bushy eyebrows. He pulled a business card from a kilt pocket and gave it to Keira.
“Use the number on the card to call me next time. Don’t clutter the airwaves. The girls and I will do a little investigating. Send me a text message so I can reach you if I find something serious. Just try not to go shouting to everyone you see. And if you’d like to get into the stripping business, let me know. The girls will help you and it’s good experience. Develops confidence.”
“I’m uh… I’m not… You’re really a dirty old man!” Keira said in shock.
“Ass if,” he replied, being sure to project his meaning. “Butt not everyone has the wind in her sails for it. You could do well. I’m off to hunt and gather some treats for the lagomorphs.”
Angus turned and ambled off toward the raspberry bushes that still had a few green leaves. He began pulling off the leaves and putting them in a plastic baggie.
«Wow!» Jaime said. «He’s sure a strange guy, isn’t he? Inviting us to share a bowl? Are you sure we should have contacted him?»
«He’s a dirty old man obsessed with butts. But he’s basically harmless,» Keira admitted. The two headed back to her house.
Trayce and Rose
The weekend went painfully slowly for Trayce as well. She had an itch between her legs she desperately wanted to scratch, but resolutely ignored it for fear she would not be able to control her encounter with the characters in her head.
Monday, she cautiously looked out a second floor classroom window at the college to try to spot if it was clear. Something told her to just stay put for a while and take the next bus. She never saw anything suspicious, but she waited just the same.
Her Wednesday class at the college was just as uncomfortable, but it was the last class of the term and she was confident she’d done well. All her end of term papers were complete and turned in. The last week before Christmas was almost a formality. No one would probably even know if she didn’t show up for high school classes the rest of the week, but that just wasn’t Trayce’s way of doing things. Even if all they did was sleep in class, she’d still show up like a good little girl.
Once she got home and had dinner with her mother, she sat in her room idly surfing the web. She decided to prove to herself that Keira and Jaime were fiction by looking up the psychiatrist Keira had suggested. Of course, there wouldn’t be such a one because she’d undoubtedly made up the name on the fly.
‘Rose Edmonds, young women’s counseling,’ she read. Well, she must have spotted the name at some previous time when she was thinking of counseling. God knew her past year was reason enough for counseling, even if she hadn’t started hearing voices. That was probably how the name entered her subconscious as a possible character name.
As unhappy as Trayce was, she decided anything was worth a try. She called the office and left a message requesting an appointment. She was surprised to receive a return call just fifteen minutes later.
“This is Rose Edmonds,” the caller said. She sounded nice. “I wanted to get back to you quickly because your message sounded stressed. How can I help you?”
“Um… Hi… um… Dr. Edmonds. I… I’m… just confused and sad and lonely. I hear voices in my head and I’ve been trying to block them out, but it just makes me sadder,” Trayce said, suddenly sobbing.
“Are you in a safe place right now?”
“I’m at home.”
“That didn’t answer the question.”
“Yeah. I mean, no one’s going to hurt me here. Mom and I already ate. I didn’t expect to reach you so soon.”
“I can imagine. My office hours are later than most counselors. Most of my clients are students and they find they don’t have daytime hours for appointments. Would you like to come in right now?”
“Now? It’s, like, seven o’clock.”
“I’ll be in the office until nine and have no appointments scheduled this evening. Later if necessary.”
“I guess. If it’s not too much trouble.”
“I assure you, I’m happy to see you.”
They exchanged the office information and details. Trayce was surprised that it wasn’t far. Much more convenient than Dr. Schwartz. She’d had to cut an afternoon of school to see him.
Trayce was instantly comfortable with Dr. Edmonds—Dr. Rose as she asked to be called. Her voice was gentle and everything about her was calm. There were no negative vibes in her office. And Trayce was ready to just unburden herself of everything that had happened recently. A woman was much better to talk to than a man.
“What’s funny is that they are the only characters who will talk now,” Trayce said. “I used to have so many characters talking in my head I had to concentrate to focus on just one or two. Now all I can think about is these two. I decided to write a new story this weekend, but I couldn’t think up a single good character for it.”
“When did you start hearing characters talking to you?”
“Oh, I’ve always had a pretty active imagination. Only child, you know. I’d make up people to play with, have tea parties, talk to my stuffed animals. It was around eleven that I started recognizing that the characters could be completely independent from what I was trying to play. Then they would take off in unexpected directions. I started participating in a writing contest that let participants talk to each other online and discovered having characters take over a story and go a different direction than the writer intended was pretty common. So, I just went with the flow.”
“Get some interesting stories?”
“Sort of. A lot of characters seemed to disappear quickly as far as having conversations or talking in my head. Usually, I had plenty of insight into the character by that time to finish writing the story and sometimes, the character would pop back with something interesting to include.”
“That was a past tense statement. What changed?”
“My teacher in creative writing challenged me to come up with an original story that wasn’t based on a fan fiction. It was hard, but I sort of heard… not a conversation exactly, but I had a glimpse inside the head of a woman who had just received word her husband had died. She took her little girl to a movie to laugh and have fun while she decided how to tell her that her daddy wasn’t coming home. It triggered a lot of my own feelings about when I found out my father was killed by a drunk driver. I sort of poured myself into the little girl.”
“That sounds very intense and very healthy.”
“I got a good grade. Then I had this completely off the wall idea of an old man who thought he was a great detective and two strippers who followed him around making sure he didn’t get hurt. It was a good story, but my teacher said it wasn’t appropriate for school because it was pretty ribald.”
Rose laughed at the thought.
“These sound like healthy expressions. What has you worried?”
“My two new characters, Keira and Jaime, told me that those were all real people they’d encountered and read the minds of. I mean, not only are they characters who are talking to me, they’re taking credit for two of my best stories ever!”
“Ah. And when you discarded the characters, suddenly the story ideas dried up. Is that the case?” Rose was quietly scribbling notes on a pad of paper. At the mention of Keira and Jaime, the problem came into sharp focus.
“Wow! I feel like I’m getting writing counseling from a good editor,” Trayce chuckled. Dr. Rose’s office was really peaceful. It was like an underlying hum in her brain had been silenced. “Well, I usually listen to characters for a while and find out a lot about them, then I go away and write a story. But… I mean… The characters have always been separate from me. Like I’m just listening in on them. These two… They talk to me and act like they hear me answering them! That’s not logical. Dr. Schwartz said it was a factor of the bicameral brain and that it is really one side of my head talking to the other.”
“Perhaps. You spoke to Dr. Schwartz?” Rose made more notes on her pad. “The fact that you are seeking help and are questioning the existence of your voices tends to override any breakdown of consciousness that would lead to paranoia or schizophrenia. Bicameral communication is typically not challenged. It is also referred to as command communication. You are told by an outside voice to do something and you simply obey. You don’t ask why.”
“I guess that’s a relief in one way, but it still leaves me with voices who insist they are real people. And I really wish they were.”
“Tell me about that, Trayce. Why do you want these individuals to be real?” Rose asked.
Trayce stopped to consider the situation and how much she was willing to admit.
“They’re… good people,” she finally answered. “I don’t mean they’re perfect, but they’re in love and…” Tears welled in Trayce’s eyes. “I think they love me. And I love them! How can I be in love with a couple of characters I haven’t even written about yet?”
“Now tell me why you don’t want them to be real.”
“Oh! I mean… That would be crazy, wouldn’t it? If they were real people just walking around, and I was having these conversations in my head with them, then that would be impossible! I’d be making everything up.”
“Isn’t that what you want?”
“To mean I was making it up? I mean… um… If I was making them up, then they couldn’t be real, right? But then… I’d really be alone… They wouldn’t love me!”
“Trayce, you have obviously developed an intense emotional bond with these people. And if they are real, they’ve developed the same kind of bond with you. But keeping them away is causing you pain that finding out they were imaginary couldn’t match. What would you do if you found out they were real people and the three of you could talk to each other in your heads? No one has ever been able to prove that was possible, but people have reported various levels of having a mental conversation with another for centuries. It’s not beyond the realm of reason in our world, where we communicate so freely with complete strangers. How many of your online friends—say, in your writing group—have you actually met? Yet you have no difficulty considering them real, even though social scientists estimate that nearly half of our online friends are made up—some by a person and some by an AI.”
“How would I know they were real and I wasn’t just hallucinating them?”
“You don’t seem to have a disconnect from reality in any other sense. You go to school and do your work. You write your papers and go to a college class. You write stories and you know the stories are made up. You would have to trust your external senses as well as your internal senses. In other words, touch them, listen to their voices, look them in the eye…”
“Make love,” Trayce whispered.
“What?”
“We always have the best connection when we are being… intimate.”
“You have sex with them in your mind? That’s a pretty common fantasy for teens.”
“Sort of. Only they talk about needing to go slow so they can preserve their individual identity. I thought just getting to an orgasm was the whole purpose of the fantasy, but they set up rules for how far they would progress at any one time. Then they’d do things I never imagined and I could feel what it felt like for them, even though I knew it was my own fingers that were actually touching me.”
“What do you really want to do, Trayce?”
“I want… I want to sit down with them and have a proper date where we eat dinner and talk like normal teens. I want to touch them and have them touch me and make love with them.”
“Both of them?”
“Yes.”
“So, why don’t you make a date? Invite them out and if they don’t show up, you’ll know once and for all it was just your imagination and you can relax about whether or not you are crazy. It was just a vivid fantasy.”
“What if they do show up?”
“That’s what you really want, isn’t it? Think of it as a dream come true.”
Dr. Rose was so sweet and caring that Trayce left feeling better about herself, whether she was crazy or not. When the subject of a date came up, Trayce immediately jumped to having Christmas dinner together. But Dr. Rose questioned whether a first meeting should have the pressures of family all around them. Trayce agreed that her mother would probably freak out.
The whole idea was proving once and for all that they either did or didn’t exist. Then Dr. Rose said something that slowed Trayce down significantly.
“When you ask a question of your lovers—or of anyone for that matter—you must be prepared to accept the answer, no matter what it is. And understand there are more possibilities than you have considered—even when you’ve considered all of them. One possibility, we agree, is that they don’t show up and you prove they don’t exist. The experience is one of loss because you have already convinced yourself they’re real. The second is that they exist and you have been telecommunicating with them. In that instance, you will know that things you have shared with them, believing they were imaginary, were actually shared with real people.”
Trayce thought immediately of having brazenly stood naked in front of a full-length mirror to ‘show herself’ to Jaime. Somehow that act seemed more intimate than their sex games and orgasms.
“A third possibility,” Dr. Rose continued, “is that you discover they are real, but you are not talking with each other mentally. In that case, they might not even recognize you and you will know you have simply been fantasizing about two other people and they are not a part of the equation.”
“Wow! That would be extreme!” Trayce had said.
“There may be other possibilities,” Dr. Rose had said. “What I am saying is that before you ask the question, be sure you are prepared to accept the answer.”
Trayce contemplated that on her way home, determined to accept any answer, but deciding to write down all the possible answers to the question she could think of. That might mean she’d have to talk to them to complete the list. If she did this, she wanted to be prepared.
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
