I awoke feeling surprisingly chipper and clear, although the left side of my face was raw and sore. Rikki kissed me warmly and then grimaced when she saw the nasty scratches on my cheek. She looked a little haggard, as if she hadn’t gotten much sleep.
Soon after Kyle left for school, we drove to our appointment with Arly—Rikki at the wheel, the pictures of Davy folded on the seat between us.
My calm state evaporated as we walked up the creaky stairs, and I felt like a thousand tiny soldiers were marching on my skin. Arly must have heard our footsteps in the hall, because when we got to the top of the stairs she was standing in her doorway waiting to usher us in. She took Rikki’s hand in both of hers, shook it warmly, and said it was a pleasure to finally meet her in person.
I sank down heavily in the chair opposite Arly’s, the incessant thud in my chest making me feel like there was too much blood in my veins. Rikki sat down, nervously clutching her purse in one hand and the pictures in the other. She leaned over and handed the pictures to Arly, who unfolded them and studied them for a minute without saying anything.
I gripped the arms of my chair as if it were plugged in and stared blankly at a spot on the wall to Arly’s left. There was sweat on my upper lip. Rikki watched Arly nervously, sensing something big was going to happen, but not knowing what. Arly rested her gaze on me, first on the scratches on my face and then at the red line encircling my right hand.
There was a prickly silence; we were an inch from the sleeping beast. Then Arly stepped on the twig.
“Davy?” Arly said. Suddenly my body shuddered and I was zipped off far away. Shudder, switch, gone. And Davy was there.
Davy’s head snapped back, his eyes wide with terror. His left hand grabbed his right wrist and yanked it up in the air above his head as if it were trying to pull him out of the chair, and he let out three piercing screams. “Aaahhh! Aaahhh! Aaahhh!” His right hand tried to twist free of the grip as his left hand pulled up, jabbing the fingers at some invisible target. The right hand pulled back, helpless against the stronger left. “Aaahhh!”
Rikki’s jaw dropped and she stared in amazement.
Arly said firmly, “Davy, can you hear me?” Davy panted, tears and sweat streaming down his face. Nothing. “Davy, can ... you ... hear ... me?” Arly asked again. Davy nodded.
“What do you see?” Arly asked, sitting forward in her chair.
“W—white hair. W—wet. Ugh,” and he began to gag, the left hand still jerking the right hand up and down. “Let go!” he screamed. Rikki looked on in horror.
“What’s happening with your right hand?” Arly urged.
“She’s got it,” he sobbed. “Yuchhh!”
Arly leaned forward. “Who’s she? Who’s got your right hand?”
“Grandma!” Davy cried. He screamed again, “Aaahhh!”
“What is Grandma doing with your hand?”
“My ... fingers ... in ... her ...” he gagged again and rocked back and forth, his eyes focused upward at some object only he could see. Now Rikki was crying softly.
“Where are you, Davy?” Arly said.
“Grandma’s house,” he said, sniffling.
“Is your grandma saying anything?”
Davy wheezed in and out, shaking his head.
“Davy, listen to me,” Arly said. “You’re not with your grandma. You’re not in her house. You’re remembering something that happened a long time ago. It’s not happening now. You’re okay. You’re safe now. Look around the room. Look around the room. Grandma is not holding your wrist. Let go of your wrist.”
Davy’s breath was coming fast and his hair was drenched with sweat. His gaze unlocked from the unseen figure in front of him, and he peered slowly around at Arly and Rikki. His left hand let go of his right and it dropped limply into his lap. He pushed at his groin, trying to make his erection go away. And then his shoulders began to shake and he closed in on himself and cried a desperate wounded cry.
Suddenly his look of terror returned and Davy bolted upright again. He raised his right hand, and with the first two fingers of his left hand he made a scissors and, grunting with effort, attempted to cut off the fingers of his right hand.
Rikki gasped, “Oh, my God!”
“Davy!” Arly snapped. “You don’t have to cut your fingers off. Look at your hand. It’s all right. You don't have to cut your fingers off.”
Davy’s hands dropped to his sides and he slumped back in the chair, exhausted and whimpering, his breath coming in spasms. He started scratching at the wound on his left cheek.
“Don’t scratch yourself, Davy,” Arly said firmly. He continued scratching and Arly jumped up, took his left hand, and put it at his side. “No scratching, Davy,” she said. “You’ve been hurt enough.” She sat back down. “You’re all right, Davy,” Arly said soothingly. “No one’s going to hurt you. You’re safe now. Just relax and take a deep breath.”
Arly took a deep breath to show him, and he followed. So did Rikki. After maybe a dozen deep breaths, Davy’s breathing became more regular and the spasms became less frequent. Arly spoke again.
“Why were you scratching your cheek, Davy?”
“Fingernails on my cheek,” he said softly.
“I don’t understand. Your fingernails on your cheek?”
“Grandma’s,” he said, “like this.” Davy crossed his right hand over his face and stroked his left cheek with the back of the fingernails. Arly exchanged a glance with Rikki and turned back to Davy.
“She scratched you?” Arly asked.
“No.”
“But you remember the feel of her fingernails on your face? Is that it?”
Davy nodded. “I don’t like it,” he whispered.
“Do you know where you are, Davy?” Arly asked. He shook his head. “Do you know who I am or who she is?” she said, pointing at Rikki. Davy looked over at Rikki. Her eyes were red and puffy and her mascara had run.
He shook his head again. “No.”
“My name is Arly Morelli. I’m a psychologist. I help people with their problems. I'm Cam’s psychologist. Do you know who Cam is?”
Davy shook his head again. “How old are you, Davy?”
He held up four fingers. Rikki looked on in stunned silence, beads of sweat covering her upper lip. Arly held up the pictures and pointed to them. “Did you draw these, Davy?”
“Yes,” he said in a scared, small voice.
“Look at your right hand, Davy,” Arly said. “Do you see that the fingers are still there? Can you wiggle them?”
He wiggled his fingers.
Arly said, “Davy, did someone make you do something with your hand that you didn’t like?”
Davy nodded and said softly, “Grandma. Sweaty Grandma. She put my hand in her wee wee.”
“She put your fingers in her vagina?” Arly asked. Davy nodded. Rikki cringed.
“Then she took me into the bathroom and kissed my wiener and gave me two cookies.”
Arly said softly, '“I’m sorry that happened to you, Davy. That shouldn’t have happened. And it will never, ever happen again. I promise.” Arly looked at Rikki. “Right, Rikki?”
“No,” Rikki said, with an aching sadness in her eyes. “That will never happen again ... Davy.”
Arly sat back in her chair and said, “Davy, look down at your body ... all the way down to your feet. Do you notice anything?”
Davy slowly looked down at his body, his gaze wandering down his shirt to his thighs and his knees. Then he leaned forward and peered over the edge of the chair, down at his feet.
“Wow,” he said, incredulous, eyes wide. “I’m big. I’m a giant.”
Arly chuckled, “No, you’re not a giant, Davy, but your body is all grown up now. You’ve been inside somewhere for a very long time, and while you were inside, a lot of time went by. Remember when I asked if you knew who Cam was?”
Davy nodded.
“Cam is you, all grown up. And Rikki is his wife.” Davy looked at Arly and then over at Rikki.
“I’m not kidding,” Arly said. “They have a house and even a little boy of their own named Kyle, who’s about your age.”
Davy leaned forward trying to look past Rikki to see Kyle.
Rikki smiled and said, “No, Kyle isn’t here. He’s at school now.”
“Oh,” Davy said, leaning back in his chair.
“Cam comes here to talk to me, Davy,” Arly said, “and you are welcome to come out and talk to me, too ... anytime. Okay?”
Davy nodded again.
“I want you to know that you are safe now, completely safe. I’m going to ask you to close your eyes now and think of yourself in a very comfortable place, maybe a place with lots of stuffed animals and a blanket, and I’m going to ask for Cam to come back. All right?”
“Okay,” Davy said gently, closing his eyes.
Arly took a deep breath and said, “Cam?” She waited. “Cam? I want you to come back.” And then ... shudder, switch, and I was back.
I opened my eyes and the room came into focus. I shook my head hard, trying to clear my mind. I looked at Arly and over at Rikki, and then a wave of emotion flooded me and I burst into tears.
Rikki sprang off her chair and knelt by my side, throwing her arms around me, holding me as if I was going off to war. And we cried. For Davy.
After a couple of minutes Arly said, “We’re getting a little tight on time.” Rikki and I let go of each other, and she sat back down on her chair and reached for a Kleenex. We both looked at Arly expectantly.
Arly leveled her gaze at me and said, “How much of what just happened do you remember?”
I spoke slowly, piecing together what had taken place. “We came into your office ... I sat here, where I’m sitting now.” I tried to clear my throat a couple of times; it felt hoarse and raw. “You looked at the pictures and asked for Davy, and I kind of disappeared in a swirl ... somewhere. I was barely aware of what was happening. My body felt tight and there were screams and ...”
Arly nodded.
I looked out the window. “This is embarrassing,” I said.
“It’s okay,” Arly said soothingly.
“I had tight pockets. Still do, sort of. Then I heard my name called, and I kind of swooped down into my body, like a bird diving after its prey ... and then I was back.”
Arly sat silently for a moment with her hands clasped together, her index fingers making a steeple against her lips. She put her hands in her lap. “Do you know about Davy?”
I shook my head. “Not really. Just the pictures, and my face got scratched ... and something weird happened here, I can tell. I’m sweaty, my throat hurts, I’ve been crying, and you’re eyeing me like I’m a bug under a glass.” I was sweating and my pants were sticking to me. I shifted in my seat to try to get comfortable, but it didn’t work.
Arly said, “Davy is a part of you, Cam. It looks to me like your grandmother might have sexually abused you, if what Davy said is accurate. At any rate, Davy just abreacted, or relived, an experience of being forced to masturbate a woman with his right hand, specifically with the four fingers of his right hand. Do you have any memory of that having happened to you?”
“No. I never knew my grandmother,” I said. “She died when I was about four and a half.” I had a big knot in my stomach. “I don’t remember being sexually abused ever … by anybody.”
“Well,” Arly said, “Davy does.”
I looked over at Rikki and she nodded.
I bit my lower lip and tears welled up in my eyes. “Well, this isn’t too good, now, is it? This isn’t too good at all.” Rikki leaned over and grabbed my hand and held it tightly. I looked at Arly. “What does this mean?”
“Davy is a dissociated part of you,” she said. “You, when you were probably around four years old. But not entirely you. Just the you who experienced some trauma at the hands of this woman. Davy split off and went inside your mind somewhere in order to protect you from knowing what had occurred. For whatever reason, he’s surfaced now.”
We were all quiet for a moment.
“Cam,” Arly continued, “Davy didn’t know who you were, who I am, or that you’re married to Rikki and have a son.”
“Well, did you tell him?” I asked. “Does he know now? Jesus, what am I talking about?”
“Yeah. I told him.” We were quiet some more and then Arly spoke again. “Have you ever heard voices talking in your head—not like a conscience—but commenting on your actions?”
“Well, yeah. I hear voices. Doesn’t everybody? They’re not outside my head. Nobody’s telling me the CIA is after me. I’m not schizophrenic, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
“Do you ever experience feeling separate from your body, the way you described leaving when Davy came out?”
I nodded. “Sometimes. Sometimes it feels like I’m there but then I’m not there. Like I’ll be in a store or somewhere, and I’ll just start to feel very distant, like I’m looking down at myself, watching myself glide down the aisle or talk to a clerk or whatever. Or I’ll be tying my shoes and then just forget how to tie them and have to figure it out.” Rikki looked at me with surprise. I shrugged.
“Do you keep a journal?” Arly asked.
“No.”
“Go out and get one. I think you should start keeping one.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Write in it every day and just let whatever happens happen. Don’t try to stop it.”
“Arly,” I said carefully, “was I sexually abused as a child?”
“What do you think?” she asked. Rikki squeezed my hand. I looked at her and back at Arly.
“I don't know what to think. Davy? What the hell is all this? What the—”
“From what I saw here today,” Arly said calmly, “I have no trouble believing that you experienced sexual abuse.”
I shuddered. “Well I do. You’re talking about me here, about something that might have happened to me, except I don’t know anything about it ... don’t remember anything. But we’ve got Davy here, and he knows all about it, and oh yeah, he’s scratching me up and trying to cut my fingers off, and ...” I squirmed in my seat, “getting a stiff one talking about my grandmother.” I let out a big sigh. “Sorry.”
“Denial is the first reaction people have to this kind of thing,” Arly said.
“Well, at least I’m doing it in the right order.”
Rikki said, “You’ve seen this kind of thing before?”
Arly nodded. “Yeah, I have.”
“Then you know what to do?”
Arly nodded again. “Mm hmm.”
“Thank God,” Rikki said.
“So what now?” I said.
“You get that journal and start writing in it, and we keep working together. Oh,” she added, “and get Davy his own teddy bear. If he comes out, make him feel comfortable and safe.”
Rikki and I nodded tentatively. I sat back in my chair, still holding Rikki’s hand, looking out the window. Down below, a group of maybe fifteen young children flanked by two women watched while a fireman, in full dress, pointed out the features of a fire engine. The kids looked like Christmas candies in their colorful winter coats, hats, and mittens. My mind flashed on Davy. Good enough to eat. I looked at the red mark on my right hand and shook my head in disbelief.
“I never even knew my grandmother,” I said softly.