Rikki sat stiffly in a corner booth at The Border, a small, earthy restaurant with a lot of big windows that overlooked Little Lake a few miles from our house. She was wearing old blue jeans, a gray sweatshirt, and hiking boots. She hadn’t bothered to comb her hair or put on makeup. The restaurant was about half-filled with a boisterous crowd of people, drinking beer and margaritas and eating from big plates of Mexican food.
Across from Rikki, her friend Tanya was nursing a margarita on the rocks and looking placidly out the window at the frozen lake. The moon was almost full, and its light made the ice look like polished black onyx.
Tanya was pretty, with long thick dark hair, large brown smiling eyes, and a coppery complexion that showed her Latin heritage. She was wearing black silk pants, a black cotton T-shirt, and a red Toreador jacket. Tanya and her husband Eddie had lived next door to us before we moved to the stone house. Kyle had been best friends with their daughter Jessie for a while, and Tanya and Rikki were comfortable with each other from two years of chatting together over coffee while watching the kids play. Tanya was safe.
Rikki had phoned her and asked to meet, saying only that she was in the middle of a crisis and needed to talk. Tanya could tell that Rikki was struggling with something dark; since they’d arrived at the restaurant, other than deciding what to order, Rikki hadn’t said two words. It was time.
Tanya took a sip of her margarita. “You called me,” she said, looking at Rikki over the lip of her glass, “and I’m here.”
“Thanks,” Rikki said, meeting Tanya’s gaze for a second and then looking away. “You could probably tell I really needed to get out.”
• Tanya nodded, taking another sip. “Yeah. The part about the crisis—that’s what tipped me off.”
The waiter, a good-looking kid with a lot of earrings and platinum blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, came over and set an enormous plate of food on the table.
Tanya’s eyes got big and she straightened up the way people do when their order arrives. “This isn’t about crisis, Rik,” Tanya said, smiling. “This,” she spread her hands gesturing at the food, “is about nachos.”
Rikki was sipping her margarita when Tanya said that, and she burst out laughing and started to choke. She put the drink down without spilling it, and Tanya quickly reached over and slapped her on the back a few times. Some people looked their way and Blondie made a move toward the table, but Tanya signaled him that it was okay and he went away. Rikki got her breath under control.
“Smooth, huh,” she said, coughing and wiping her mouth with her napkin.
“It wasn’t that funny,” Tanya joked. “You all right?”
Rikki nodded, patting her chest and taking a deep breath. “Shit, that’s the first time I’ve laughed in I don’t know how long,” she said. “Thanks.”
“Sure,” Tanya said, grinning. “Later I’ll push ya down the stairs.”
Rikki smiled, picked up a huge nacho piled high with refried beans, chicken, green chilies, and cheese, and took a bite. So did Tanya.
“Mmm,” Tanya said with her mouth full, “eezer gray.”
Rikki raised her eyebrows and nodded in agreement. They ate noisily for a few minutes without talking. Tanya signaled Blondie for two more drinks and he brought them over and cleared the empty glasses.
“Nobody finishes those,” he said, gesturing with his chin at the half-eaten plate of nachos. “Well ... the bowlers do.”
“Leave ’em for now,” Tanya said without looking up. “Oh, and could you bring us a couple more napkins?”
“Sure,” Blondie said and went to get them. He came right back, set the napkins down near Tanya, and moved off to another table.
Tanya’s eyes followed him. “Nice ass,” she said, but Rikki wasn’t paying attention. She was poking nervously at the ice in her drink.
“So,” Tanya said brightly, “how’d you get out tonight?”
Without looking up from her glass Rikki said, “Kyle’s sleeping ... and for the moment, all’s quiet on the western front.”
“What do you mean, ‘for the moment’?”
Rikki didn’t answer. She shifted her gaze out the window. Across the lake a light popped on, and then another and another in a small cluster.
“Someone’s home,” she said to no one.
“Huh?”
“Someone across the lake just came home and turned their lights on.”
Tanya turned to have a look and then turned back. “Mmm,” she said. “What do you mean ‘all's quiet on the western front’?” Rikki hesitated, aware that she and Tanya had rarely had a conversation that didn’t center around their children. Rikki was an extremely private person and never really opened up to anyone. This was hard. She rotated her glass slowly, staring into it.
“Talk to me, will ya?” Tanya prodded.
Rikki pushed her glass away. “All right,” she said. “It’s about Cam. He’s been having problems. Serious problems.” Tanya folded her hands, waiting. Rikki shifted in her seat.
“Mental problems,” she said. Tanya raised her eyebrows. “He’s been seeing a psychologist for a few months, and some bizarre things have been going on.”
Tanya gazed at her intently. “Bizarre things?”
“Tanya,” Rikki said, “Cam’s been diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder. DID. It’s the new name for Multiple Personality Disorder.”
“What? Oh, my God,” she said, placing her hand on her chest. “Are you kidding me?” She searched Rikki's eyes. “You’re not kidding me.”
Rikki shook her head slowly.
Tanya looked around the room as if everyone in the restaurant had heard. She leaned in and said in a loud whisper, “You mean like Sybil?”
“Yeah.”
“I ... I don’t ... know what to say.” She smoothed her hair. “Jesus. Cam?”
“Yeah, my Cam,” Rikki said, staring out the window. “I’ve known him for fifteen years, we’ve been married for thirteen.” She shifted her gaze back to Tanya. “And the whole time he always seemed so stable ... so together.”
Tanya nodded.
“Not one time,” Rikki said, raising a finger, “did he ever raise his voice to me. Or treat me with disrespect. We’ve never even had a fight. He’s always been so gentle and sweet ... the best dad and my best pal.” Rikki looked absently out at the lake. “You know, he did have this weird side of him, though, that would come out whenever he had to do something difficult ... anything. He’d just change into somebody totally intense, I mean totally driven. He was ...” she searched for the word, “fierce. His brother used to call him ‘Killer.’”
Tanya thought about that. “You know, I think I saw him like that once ... when I stopped by his office. It was kind of scary.”
“It didn’t scare me,” Rikki said, “but it was weird. And the second he was done with whatever it was ... building something, moving something, making a big deal go down ... whatever,” she snapped her fingers, “he was back to the same lovable, easygoing Cam, and everything was okay again.”
Rikki took a small sip of her drink and set the glass down. “Another thing I never really understood was that Cam said, more than once, that if people really knew him, they’d have him locked up. ‘I’m right on the edge,’ he’d say. I’m a crazy person.’ That always seemed odd to me ... didn't make sense. And he couldn’t really explain what he meant. It was just a feeling he had.”
Tanya leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table, and rested her chin on her hands. “Rik, you’re talking about him like he’s gone.”
“Oh my God,” Rikki said, her voice full of emotion. “But, you know, it’s like he is gone. And there are all these other people in his place.”
“You mean they look different? Do they dress different? What?”
“No, they don’t dress differently. And of course they look like him. But not really. Their mannerisms are different. The way they talk. They’re all different ages. There are girls.”
“Girls? Whoa. Back up, okay? You’re talking to somebody who had one semester of intro psychology.” Tanya leaned in and rested her chin on her fist. “Exactly what is Dissociative Identity Disorder?”
Rikki took a deep breath and let it out gradually. Then she told Tanya the tale. When she got to the part about my mother Tanya gasped, “His mother!” She made a face like she’d just tasted an old penny. “Ugh,” she said, “that’s sick.” She hunched her shoulders up and shivered.
“Yeah.”
They both sat silently for a moment.
“So exactly where did the personalities come from?” Tanya asked. “And don’t forget about the girls.”
“They were created during different episodes of the abuse.” Rikki thought for a bit. “It’s like this,” she said, picking up a fresh napkin and holding it in front of her. “When Cam was abused as a child, his mind couldn’t accept it, couldn’t register it. He wasn’t capable of reconciling how someone who took care of him could also do something so terrible.”
“Who could?”
“So,” Rikki tore a thin strip halfway down the left side of the napkin, “a piece of his mind split off like this, taking with it the memories of the abuse and the feelings about it. That way, Cam didn’t have to remember what had happened—he could go on being a little kid. This protected him from the horror of the abuse.”
“You mean he knew he was doing this?” Tanya said.
Rikki shook her head. “No. It was an unconscious strategy—a defense mechanism. Pretty creative, if you think about it.”
Tanya raised her eyebrows. “I guess.”
Rikki continued. “The next time something terrible happened, either that same part came out again to deal with it,” Rikki wagged the torn section, “or another one was created.” She ripped another strip halfway down the napkin. “And the next time, and the next time.” She ripped two more strips. The separated pieces of napkin draped loosely over her hand. “The way I understand it, when certain parts were called on a lot, they started to develop a sense of themselves as being separate from Cam.”
“And Cam didn’t know about any of them?”
“No. Not until recently. He had no memory at all of having been abused. Then all of a sudden, these personalities just started coming out, and they relived the abuse—like flashbacks—right in front of me.” Rikki was talking excitedly now. She grabbed one of the loose strips of napkin. “This one got it from the grandmother.” She grabbed another. “This one got it from some strange man.” She grabbed a third. “This one got it from his mother. It was amazing.” She took a deep breath to try to calm herself down and wiped some sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.
Tanya looked at her, astonished. “And the girls ...”
“Cam’s mind couldn’t cope with being abused by a male. That could only happen to a girl.”
“Right,” Tanya nodded. “So, what are the personalities like? Do they have names? Do they know who you are? Who Kyle is? What does he know about this?”
Rikki started to explain, but was interrupted when Blondie came over and asked if they wanted more drinks. Rikki shook her head no at Tanya.
Tanya looked up at Blondie and said, “No thanks. And you can take the nachos.” She looked at Rikki to double-check. Rikki nodded. Blondie cleared the plate.
“Not bowlers, huh?” he said.
“Not bowlers,” Tanya repeated impatiently. When he was gone, she sat forward and said, “Continue.”
Rikki told Tanya about each alter, the memories they had, and how they communicated with each other and with her. She explained that we’d managed to shelter Kyle from most of what was happening, but that he was just now beginning to be aware that something was wrong.
“Is this going to go away, or what?” Tanya asked. “I mean, if these guys are going to be sticking around you’re going to have to tell Kyle something, right? I know he’s a peanut, but kids aren’t stupid. It’s going to come up.”
“I know that!” Rikki snapped. “Sorry. It’s just that ... kids aren’t supposed to have to deal with this stuff. He’s little. He thinks he can touch the moon if you hold him up high enough. How’s he going to deal with this? A little at a time, that’s all. I’ll tell him a little at a time.”
“As much as you think he can handle.”
“Right.”
“What about the mother?”
“Her,” Rikki grunted. “She’s not coming to my house again. She’s not seeing Kyle again. No way.”
“What’ll he think of that?”
“I don’t think he’ll care, except for the presents. She always brings him something. Too much. Buying his affection. Goddamn her!”
“What about Cam’s father? Oh, right, he’s dead. Where the hell was he while all this was happening?”
“Cam said he kept to himself. His therapist said in abusive families there’s usually a triangle. The perpetrator, the victim, and the one who denies it. Cam’s father was the one who denied it. I guess he was looking the other way.”
Rikki slumped against the back of the booth and took a sip of her drink, which by then was mostly melted ice. She put her hand on her chest. Her heart was racing. A delicate thread was dangling off the spool of her tightly wrapped emotions.
“Does the mother know about this?” Tanya said. “I mean, of course she knows about this—oh, shit, I don’t know what I mean.”
Rikki’s breathing got heavier and her face turned scarlet, the tension mounting inside her.
Tanya drilled on. “What about Kyle? If she abused Cam, could she have—”
Rikki exploded. “Goddammit, Tanya! I don’t fucking know!”
Everyone in the restaurant stopped what they were doing and looked over.
Tanya was shocked. “Shit,” she said, taken aback. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
“No, Jesus, I’m sorry,” Rikki apologized, embarrassed that she’d blown up at Tanya and caused a scene. The spool of emotion stopped for a second. “I’m a total wreck about this,” she said. “She spent some weekends with Kyle. Arly, Cam’s therapist, said if Kyle shows any signs, any weirdness, to take him to somebody ... not to go hunting for something that may not be there, but ... oh God, I’m really sorry I yelled.”
Tanya put her hand up. “Stop,” she said. “It’s okay.” She looked down at the torn napkin still in Rikki’s hand. She gingerly took it and ran her fingers over the ragged strips.
“Poor Cam,” she said shaking her head. “Do you think he’s going to be all right?” She glanced up at Rikki and saw tears welling up in her eyes.
The thread started unraveling again and nothing could stop it now.
Rikki bit her lower lip. “I don’t know,” she said softly, putting her face in her hands. Her shoulders started to shake and she began to weep uncontrollably. Tears pooled in her hands and ran down her wrists, turning the cuffs of her gray sweatshirt black. “What about me?” she cried. “What about Kyle and me?”
Several people glanced over curiously from the next booth. Tanya gave them the eye and they quickly looked away. Blondie was talking with the bartender, who was pointing at Rikki. Blondie made a move toward her, but Tanya spotted him and shook him off.
Tanya stood up, slid into the booth next to Rikki and put her arm around her. Rikki buried her face in her friend’s shoulder and for the first time let the pain, the fear, and the anger cascade out of her. Tanya covered Rikki’s hand with hers and Rikki gripped it tightly and wept. She gasped for air several times, her shoulders shaking from the torrent of emotion. Tanya gazed silently at the lights across the lake, not knowing what to say.
After a few minutes Rikki’s sobbing died down, her chest stopped heaving, and her breathing became more regular. She lifted her head from Tanya’s shoulder, sniffling, her hair matted against her tear-stained face.
“I’m sorry I soaked your jacket,” she said, smoothing out the soggy lapel. She took a deep breath, composing herself.
“Rikki?” Tanya said, smiling.
Rikki sniffled. “Yeah?”
“Can I have my hand back?” Rikki let go, embarrassed. Tanya held her hand up. “The claw,” she said, and they both burst out laughing, relieving the tension.
Tanya got up and slid back into her side of the booth.
Rikki grabbed her purse. “I’m gonna go clean up,” she said and headed for the ladies’ room.
While she was gone, Tanya had Blondie bring two glasses of water and some more napkins. In a few minutes Rikki returned with her hair combed and a little makeup on. Her face was still red and her eyes looked puffy. She slid into the booth and took a sip of water.
For a moment Rikki and Tanya sat in uncomfortable silence, avoiding each other’s eyes, no longer in that protected lane where it’s safe to take your hands off the wheel.
Then their gaze met and Tanya spoke.
“Cam’s a good guy, Rik,” she said. “No matter what happened to him ... no matter what he’s like now. Don’t you give up on him.”
Rikki felt the tears coming again, but forced them back. She picked up the torn napkin, carefully fitting the ragged strips back together, and shook her head slowly. She looked Tanya in the eye.
“I won’t,” she said.
Rikki signaled for the check and Blondie quickly brought it over. He handed it to Rikki, but Tanya snatched it and insisted on paying. She gave Blondie some cash and told him to keep the change. The two women put on their coats and walked out, stopping in the parking lot to hug each other and say goodbye.
“Thank you,” Rikki said softly.
Tanya smiled at her warmly. “No charge,” she said and walked off toward her car.
Rikki climbed into the Volvo, turned the key, and sat for a moment with the motor idling. She reached for the shift to put the car in drive, stopped herself, and placed her gloved hand back on the wheel. Startled by her hesitation, she sat back and stared pensively across the lake at the darkened houses, imagining all the husbands and wives asleep in bed, feet touching, their struggles suspended for the night. She sighed deeply, slipped the car into gear, and eased out onto the road toward home.
“For better or for worse,” she thought.