Us: A If I Break (Her) Story Read online

  “Well there’s really no reason for you to have to deal with him is there? My dad said their marriage license was under Alana’s alias so…there really isn’t any loose ends to tie up right?” he says, looking up at me beneath his lashes. He’s right, there really isn’t anything else…once I tell him that there’s something more important than the way he feels, I feel, or Alana for that matter.

  “I just wanted him to understand that she’s not real so that he could move on, have a life with someone who isn’t sharing it, stealing it from someone else,” I tell him, determined. He shakes his head ever so slightly.

  “You’re a good person and I understand that you want to fix this thing for everyone but you can’t. If I was him the last thing I’d want is you trying to fix it. He needs space, for you to tell him without a doubt that what happened is over…maybe it should be me, actually.”

  My heart begins to thud against my chest.

  That could never happen.

  I never ever would want them to meet. The two worlds collided, two men who are stubborn and think their ridiculous, possessive behavior would be justified by love.

  “No. That won’t go well Kam. I’ll take care of it,” I promise him.

  “But you haven’t,” he corrects me. I push out a breath and glue my attention to the TV.

  “Is there a reason you haven’t Megan?” he pushes further. I know he’s not going to drop the subject, and he’s entirely within his rights not to.

  “How involved have you gotten with this guy?” Concern is climbing through his tone.

  “I’m not involved with Ian, I just know things would be easier if he was on the same page with me.”

  “Babe there’s a possibility that could never happen!” he says sternly, and I’m starting to feel stressed. The enormity of everything is starting to suffocate the optimism I began to have that this can all be worked out, cleaned up neatly. I remind myself that Kam doesn’t know about the baby and he won’t understand until I tell him, but I won’t do it here. I won’t have our moment ruined by all of this.

  “It will, I promise. Things have changed since the accident. I can feel it.” I’m hoping he’s reading my mood to drop it.

  “I’m going to let you get some rest and get everything ready for you to come home,” he tells me with a smile, but it’s forced. He gives me a gentle kiss on the lips and we let it linger. I want our kiss, our touch, to remind him that everything will be okay regardless of how it looks.

  “I love you,” I tell him.

  “I love you too sweetheart,” he says, this time with a real smile, before heading out of the room.

  Its only about a half hour after Kam leaves when I’m told I have another visitor, and Cal walks through the door. My brother and I have come a long way since the day I showed up at Lauren’s gallery.

  “Hi,” I say brightly, feeling really happy he’s here. To see someone who I haven’t been hiding things from, who I don’t have to fix things with. In a way he understands my predicament, maybe even better than myself since he’s come to terms with it way before I have.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks, taking a seat on the same sofa Kam had sat on earlier.

  “I’m a little sore. But you know, thinking of how things could have turned out, I definitely can’t complain. Although I’m really ready to get out of here.” I say the last part with a laugh and he nods and cracks a smile I don’t see very often.

  “That’s good, but how is everything else?” I feel anxiety start to creep out of my stomach again, but I remind myself what I tell him doesn’t fundamentally change his life. Then I wonder for a second if Dr. Lyce told him about my pregnancy. It’d be completely inappropriate since she is my doctor, and there is the assumption of doctor-patient privilege. But she’s his sister-in-law—one I’m assuming he’s close with seeing as he trusts her with his brain and mine.

  “What do you mean?” I ask him curiously. I don’t mind him knowing but I feel like it wouldn’t be fair for so many other people to know before Kam knows.

  “I met Alana,” he says easily, as if it didn’t faze him at all.

  I blink at him, unsure if I should apologize or cry. All I feel right now is embarrassed. I have no idea what she said to him, how she behaved. I peer up at him looking for clues to how the meeting went, but Cal is always so cool and almost unreadable that it’s useless.

  “Should I apologize?” I ask meekly.

  He grins. “No, I think we have an understanding of one another,” he tells me, getting more comfortable in his chair. I can’t help but feel a sting of resentment. They have an understanding of one another? She wasn’t even around that long from what Dr. Lyce told me. I still don’t think him and I have an understanding of one another.

  “She’s the reason the accident happened. I was in the middle of the street and I could hear her. More so than I ever had before. It was almost piercing shrieks. She could have killed us,” I say, recognizing the bitterness in my tone.

  “But you’re here,” he says, his voice even. I feel myself frowning. Is he on her side? How could he dismiss that she literally attacked me in the street?

  “No thanks to her,” I say, slightly defensive.

  “I mean you’re here, not her. What happened?” he asks bluntly. I’m at a loss for words for a second. I’m slightly relieved that Dr. Lyce didn’t tell him about my news, but I don’t know what to tell him that would make sense.

  “I’m the one who should be here, she’s the one who should just go away.”

  His expression is impassive when he hears this and I wonder what he’s thinking.

  “How did you deal with this when you first realized you were sharing your body with someone, that another person was interrupting your life and causing chaos beyond measure? How do you just get past it?” I ask, hoping for some real words of wisdom, some instructions that I can implement to get through this. I hope with everything in me she’s gone. How I’ve tried to convince myself I don’t hear her anymore. But I need a failsafe plan now more than ever, especially with another layer added on to this.

  “I was the one causing chaos, Megan.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was the one who picked up the pieces of Chris’s breakdown. I guess you could say most people would consider me the alter,” he explains, with an added shrug. My heart begins to pound.

  “Wait, what?” I ask, my eyes narrowing in on him, hoping this is some sort of joke.

  “I didn’t say I was, I’m just explaining why I have an understanding as to what Alana is dealing with.”

  “But I don’t get it. You have the life—the kids and family and wife—so how could you be…” The realization slams down on me like a house of bricks.

  “It’s not just me anymore. It can’t be and it will probably never be,” he says, looking me directly in my eyes

  “So…Christopher is who’s real?” He looks mildly irritated and I feel on the verge of a panic attack, my throat starting to constrict. I’ve never met Chris and that’s terrifying because it means that Cal—who is telling me he’s an alter—is the equivalent of Alana, who is in control most times.

  Purple.

  White.

  Beige.

  Green.

  “All integration is compromising. Coming to an agreement, accepting all the parts of yourself I guess. Helen can explain it a hell of a lot better than I can, but since I live it and it seems that you both are so fucking far on the spectrum that you almost got yourself killed, that I’d give you the real deal about this. I don’t know what your plan is or if you think you can keep her away or figure out how to stop her from taking over, but it’s not going to work. She’s in there and the best thing you can do is try to connect with her so when she does resurface, she doesn’t blow your fucking life up.”

  He says all of this so casually, like I’m supposed to take it all in and accept it. I don’t know how he’s dealt with things but he’s never dealt with someone like her. I’m sure Chris
was much easier to deal with, to compromise with.

  “You don’t understand. She’s not wanting to compromise. She hates me! She doesn’t want the life I want. She’s the total opposite of me, and she won’t even talk to me!”

  “She may hate you but without you she can’t have a life either, and it seems like you’ve coexisted for over twenty-something years together. Then something changed. What pissed her off so much?” he asks directly. I remember the words she shouted at me, that Ian was hers, that she wouldn’t let me have him.

  “I…I think it was me being with Ian,” I tell him quietly. He looks at me and lets out a deep sigh. I see the slightest shake of his head.

  “I don’t even want to be with Ian. I’m going to be with Kam. I think she’d leave me alone if I just let Ian go, which I am,” I say optimistically. I can tell he’s not sold on my theory but he doesn’t voice his skepticism, even though it’s pretty obvious.

  “Also, I’m pretty sure Alana doesn’t want anything to do with being a mother.” I say this quietly and he looks at me puzzled at first, then his eyes widen.

  “Are you saying you’re…” He trails off.

  “Yes. I’m pregnant. That’s why Alana let me come back.”

  For the first time my cool and collected brother looks genuinely shocked. And then I see it. He looks a little scared; it’s nice to see him not be so blasé about things.

  “Does Helen know about this?” he asks. His voice is calm but I can hear the anxiety underneath it. I nod. He lets out a deep breath and runs his hand through his thick hair. The fact that what I’ve just said has frazzled him is making me nervous.

  “That’s why I think she’s going to stay away…for good. I know that didn’t happen in your case but even though our situation is similar, it’s not the same.”

  “You’re a grown woman and I can’t tell you what to do. I can just say, if you’re going to have a baby it’s more important than ever that you come to some type of understanding with Alana.” He sounds more serious than I’ve ever heard him before.

  “But…” I start and he leans forward now, his hands clasped together as if to brace himself.

  “Listen to me. I know you think you have it all worked out. And who knows, maybe you fucking do. But if you’re wrong, this can end up being a catastrophe.” He locks eyes with me, and in this small moment I don’t like him. I hate him for trying to burst my bubble, rain on my parade. Maybe he’s even jealous that I have a way to fix my life, that it doesn’t have to be as screwed up as his. Then I remember he’s not who I should be talking to anyway, he’s the alter. Maybe he’s on Alana’s side.

  “I appreciate your concern, and I’m going to take it into consideration. I promise,” I tell him, but from my tone he knows this conversation is over. I want him out of my space. I hate the rush of uncertainty he’s caused to pass through me. He glares at me and I can tell he’s pissed but he seems to be having an internal conversation with himself on how far to push. He gets up and heads to the door, but before leaving turns around.

  “It’s not just about you anymore. There’s another life, separate from yours, that’s innocent that you need to think about,” he says, an edge to his voice.

  “I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about this. It’s still early and no one else knows, not even Kam, so please…” I say, ignoring his previous statement.

  “Yup,” he says, his voice clipped, before leaving the room.

  Ian

  Family is fucked up. No one cares about you. They say they do but they don’t. Family just fucks you over like strangers do. They lie, and cheat you, and at the end of the day apologize like it’s supposed to mean something—but it doesn’t mean shit. Blue lied to me, Alana lied to me. They’re liars and not to be trusted.

  I stare at the picture of Alana’s face, one I haven’t looked at in so long. I should have known she’d destroy my life, with those big soulful eyes, her angelic voice, her warnings that she was fucking nuts. But nope, I didn’t listen. And here I am. I take the portrait and run my finger across her face before throwing it across the room and watching it shatter. I’m a crying mess, a complete little bitch. I take another swig from the bottle of Jameson I picked up on my way home from finding out my cousin—and best friend—is the worst kind of traitor, maybe even a psychopath, because how the hell could he pretend and lie how he did? I shuffle over to the broken portrait, getting on my knees so I can try to piece it back together.

  “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me the truth!” I shout to no one. She could have just told me the truth. I would have loved her, accepted her. We would have figured it out. She trusted Blue with the truth but not me, her damn husband. I’m proud of myself. I’ve come a long way on this little fucked up journey I’ve been on. Since Megan showed up and Blue lied to my fucking face about knowing my wife. He let me cry like a little girl, walk around like a confused lunatic thinking I was going insane, when he knew all along. But I didn’t slam his head into a wall or choke him out. No battery or assault. I’m not in jail so it’s progress right?

  I look at the bottle of whiskey in my lap. It’s half empty…or is it half full? This is the truth: whiskey doesn’t lie to you. It doesn’t break your heart or fuck you over. It heals you, makes you feel better about the shitty life that’s become yours. It’s consistent and honest, which is exactly what I need. Just me and Jameson against the fucking world.

  Boom Boom Boom. Fuck, my head. The booms don’t stop. I force my eyes open and hear the noise repeated. I don’t have any idea what time it is. I attempt to push myself off the couch. My stomach wavers like it’s on a fucking ocean. My head feels like it’s in a vice-grip. The noise doesn’t stop. And that’s when I hear him.

  “Ian. I’m not going anywhere until you open the door!” he shouts. I laugh because it has to be a joke. I know Blue—my cousin, who just sent cracks down my already broken life—isn’t at my door pounding on it like he’s a police officer demanding to be let in. Adrenaline sooths my pulsing headache enough to bring me to the door; I swing it open, then grab him by the throat before he can say anything. I attempt to slam him to the floor but the whiskey has my coordination off and I end up tripping over myself. He stops me from falling hard on my ass, but I still fall.

  “Your stupid ass still went and got whiskey?!” he says, sounding disappointed. If I could just get him to stop swaying I’d kick him in the nuts. Yeah, it’s a low blow, but I’m at a disadvantage. He pulls me by the shoulder and starts to help me up.

  “Let me go!” I say, trying to push him away. I wobble and stumble as I do.

  Shit, I am fucked up. I manage to make it to the couch, and before long he’s in front of me with a cup of coffee, forcing it in my face.

  “I know you’re fucking mad. You deserve to be. But you won’t be able to punch me until you sober up, okay?” he says, forcing it in my hand. I take it, too exhausted to protest, and force the hot liquid down. It makes me want to throw up but it stays down.

  “Get out,” I growl at him, but it sounds weak and pathetic.

  “I’m not leaving bro. Not until I know you’re okay.”

  “Don’t fucking call me bro. You’re not my brother, you’re not my friend, and you sure as hell can’t be fucking family,” I tell him tightly.

  “I fucked up man I know, I know I fucked up!” Now he’s shouting.

  “Sorry man,” he says, obviously seeing me flinch.

  “It all happened so fast. I tried to think of how to fix it, how to make it better, and I couldn’t figure it out.” He’s sitting on the chair in front of me. I’m cursing myself for drinking so much because this is the part where I want to beat his ass, but I can’t muster up the energy. I’m pretty sure I’d lack the coordination anyway.

  “Fast? It happened fast…you said you and Alana were friends so you fucking knew what she had. You knew about Megan before she left me. Before you came and said you wanted to put the past shit behind us. You knew then. It’s been over a fuck
ing year since that. What dimension are you fucking living in for you to try to say it happened fucking FAST!” He only looks away from me guiltily.

  “Aly was my friend Ian. She was my friend when you and I weren’t even talking. She was my best friend before I had a clue that you were the dude she was head over heels for.” My stomach clenches at hearing him call her Aly. He has a nickname for her, my wife, the woman he’s been pretending not to fucking know.

  “You’ve got to understand—”

  “I don’t have to understand a fucking thing asshole!” I growl and he lets out a frustrated groan.

  “Then just fucking listen for a minute, and by the time I’m done maybe you’ll be sober enough to fucking hit me okay?” he fires back, and that’s the only thing that shuts me up. I down the rest of the coffee and summon all my willpower to get myself together so I can do just that—punch his fucking face in.

  “When Alana told me about her condition, about Megan, I told her to tell you. I told her it wouldn’t have mattered to you. That I knew you and if you’d married her nothing would have been big enough to keep you guys apart. That you’re the most loyal, protective guy I know.” I sneer at him, hoping my look says he’s a fuckin traitorous bastard.

  “She told me she was going to tell you! Before you guys were supposed to go road tripping. She said that she’d tell you…” He’s up now pacing the room, and I have to stare at my lap because he’s making me dizzy.

  “She was going to try to get help, from her brother…”

  “She knew about Cal? He fucking knew about Alana!” I say, sitting up on the couch, rage bubbling inside of me. That piece of shit knew all along…

  “No. Not him. Dexter Crestfield,” he says. I try to swallow my contempt.

  “He had found out about her and wanted to help her, said her brother suffered from a form of the disorder and he could help,” he continues to explain, and I’m wondering how the fuck it ended up going so wrong. If he told her to tell me and she had this rich fucking brother to help her, why the fuck did she leave? Why the hell am I sitting here brokenhearted and shitfaced? He must sense my patience running out because I want him to get to the fucking point—why I should forgive him, how he thought he was looking out for me, why he sided with Alana when she was being irrational and stupid as fuck!