This Is Me... Read online

  Anyway, after the ceremony my parents had a huge party, or I guess a ‘wake’ at my grandparent's house. I remember being so sad in my grandma's house because I didn't know what to do with myself or my tears without her there to comfort me. So I just wandered around until I stopped in my grandma's little solarium at the back of the main floor.

  We always loved that room. Well, she loved it first, but then as I got older I loved the solarium too.

  My grandma bought and discretely hid a TV for us in a chest near the glass doors, and she and I would sneak inside and watch movies together when my grandfather was out, or otherwise occupied in his study.

  It was our little secret, and I cherished it. I loved the fear I felt knowing we could be caught with something as 'common' as a television, but I always knew my grandma would protect me even if my grandfather found out or caught us. But we were never caught and I don't think he ever found out.

  God, I loved my grandma Tommy in our solarium during our special secret time together, hidden in the room under big comfy blankets watching funny movies alone.

  After a while, I remember the guests began leaving, and I made my way back to the main dining room where food had been laid out. With shaking hands, I picked up a little sandwich, just as I spotted my mother in the corner talking to some of her friends. When we made eye contact she subtly shook her head no at me, and I dropped the sandwich at once.

  Seconds later, my grandfather was beside me putting the same sandwich on a small plate for me with his back turned to my mother.

  Oh god, I was so scared. My grandfather didn't know about my mother saying no to me I don't think. Or maybe he did know and that's why he turned his back to her. Actually, I'm not sure if he knew, but I DO know I absolutely panicked at the thought of disobeying my mother and having her punish me for it later. I knew my grandfather wouldn't be with me at our house when we returned, when my mother could be really, really angry at me. And so I shook my head at my grandfather, refused the little sandwich, and just froze.

  Eventually, the room started to spin a little for me, and I remember my grandfather pulling me to his side as I started to breathe all funny.

  Within seconds my concerned mother was at my side pulling me from his grasp, while telling everyone within hearing distance that I hadn't been feeling well earlier, and that the day had taken its toll on me.

  Leading me from the dining room, my mother continued to coddle me until we entered a guest room upstairs. And as soon as we were alone I tried to apologize for the sandwich, but my mother shook her head no again, effectively shutting me up instantly. And then she slapped me across the face. Wham! I was absolutely stunned.

  She hit me so hard, I actually fell sideways and backward onto the floor, landing hard on my butt. I couldn't believe how much that slap hurt. And as I grabbed my cheek in my hand, completely shocked, my mother said calmly, 'that's for embarrassing me at the funeral. Expect much, much more punishment when we get home for that little near-fainting episode.'

  And that was it. After she sneered her awful threat she left the room, and I burst into tears again, alone, at my beautiful, charming, elegant grandma Tommy's wake, in her huge, awesome home, which I always loved.

  I remember I cried for my grandma that day, but I realize now I cried for me too, because somehow I knew my young life was over when my grandma Tommy left me.

  And now I know. I was never beautiful like Tommy, and no one ever thought of me as Tommy, but I wanted to be. I wanted to be just like my grandma. I wanted to be beautiful, strong, lovely Tommy, but I'm not. I'm still just Suzanne.

  I wonder why I'm remembering all these things now. What a strange way to dream, or to reminisce, or to feel nostalgic, especially now when I'm sleeping but kind of awake. Weird.

  CHAPTER 3

  MAY 4

  “Suzanne! Wake up right now! Seriously. I don't want to sit here just staring at you anymore 'cause I'm tired of it! Everyone is so fucking tired of it. It's ENOUGH!” What?!

  “Kayla, stop!” What the hell is happening?

  “No, Mack! Suzanne needs to wake up now!”

  “Kayla, Suzanne will come back soon. You need to just-”

  “Fuck that, Mack! Suzanne! I've had it with you! Wake the fuck up! NOW!”

  “Kayla! If you yell at Suzanne one more time, I'll bounce you from this room!”

  “Piss off, Mack! You wouldn't dare.”

  “Try me!”

  “Oh, fuck you... I'll call Kayla tonight and see if she lets you bounce me from the room. How'd you like that?”

  “Kayla, I don't think you want to go there with me- Not right now. Listen, I know you're stressed out, and I know you want Suzanne to wake up, but-”

  “Mack. Don't you dare try to shrink me right now. I don't need a Shrink. I need Suzanne to Wake. The. Fuck. UP!”

  Jesus Christ! Why is she so mad at me? What the hell did I do wrong? Honestly. I mean, I'm sleeping here, kind of, and this woman just keeps yelling at me. Yeah, like I'm really gonna wake up for YOU. What a bitch!

  “Suzanne, I'm just going to give you a manicure, alright? Yeah, I'm sure you'll like that. You just lie there all relaxed, and I'll paint your nails for you. How does that sound?”

  What the hell? Is this woman bi-polar or something? I can't keep up with her words or her moods.

  “Kayla, DON'T!”

  “It's fine. Shut up, Mack.”

  “Kayla, I mean it. You're acting very irrationally right now. Can you please talk to me? I would really like to know what's bothering you, besides the obvious of course. Kayla, please- just talk to me.”

  “I'm fine Mack, honestly. But Suzanne isn't, is she? You're not fine, are you Suzanne? What's the matter SWEETIE, cat got your tongue?” What?! I don't know what the hell this woman is talking about.

  “Kayla-”

  “Hey, SWEETIE, I'm just going to paint your nails now, okay? Would you like that?”

  “Kayla, THAT'S ENOUGH! I know what you're doing, and it's not working. STOP. Now!”

  “Suzanne, I'm painting your fingernails now, blood RED! Do you like that?! Awful, bloody, dark RED! Did you hear me? I said your nails are RED, like Whore's RED!” What?!

  Oh god, I swear my heart is pounding through my chest. And I feel kind of funny, like scared or desperate or something. What’s happening?

  “Kayla, stop this. Kayla, look at me. Now, Kayla. Look at me, right now. Look what you're doing to-”

  “No, Mack.”

  “Kayla, NOW! I want you to turn and I want you to look at me, right now.”

  “No, Mack...”

  Oh, now she sounds all sad or something. What a Psycho this bitch is.

  “Kayla, turn and look at me, right now.”

  “Mack, I can't.”

  “Kayla, look at me...”

  Oh, now he sounds all sad too. What the hell is going on?

  “I'm so tired, Mack.”

  “I know. Come here and sit with me.”

  Yeah, take a load off, ya Psycho!

  “Mack... I can't really deal with all this shit anymore.”

  “Kayla, I'm leaving your apartment in the morning. I'll be out of your apartment, and you can have all your space back. You can have some time to yourself again. My stay was supposed to be only temporary back then.”

  “That's not it. You're fine. I kinda like torturing you for Kayla. It's just, I'm tired of all the Suzanne Shit all the time, you know?”

  “I understand. And you've been a very kind and generous host, but I'll be settled tomorrow morning into my rental, and you'll have your own space again, and you can take a break from all this for a while. Maybe take a few days for yourself. Maybe you should stay away for a few days. I know how tired you are, and it’s okay, Kayla. It really is okay to be tired of all this Suzanne shit.”

  What Suzanne shit? What did I do? Who the hell is this woman? And why the hell is she so mad at me?

  In the silence that follows I just try to breathe. I'm not sure what the problem i
s, but I feel like I should know. I wish to god I could wake up, but I'm just so tired from all this sleeping.

  It’s like I’m trapped in my body somehow. I feel so awake, but so damn tired. I feel too awake to keep sleeping, but way too tired to wake up.

  “All we do is wait. That's it. We wait and wait. We've spent almost 3 months just waiting, and I can't stop wondering what we're all waiting for? What if it’s bad? What if nothing is the same again? What if she really is gone this time?”

  “Kayla, I honestly don't believe that to be true. I believe she's here just taking her time so she can come back to us fully recovered.”

  “But will she ever be fully recovered? I mean really- look at her.”

  “I hope so. I believe so Kayla. I think she's going to come back again stronger than ever.”

  What am I recovering from? What happened to me? God, I wish someone would say one friggin' thing that makes sense for once.

  “Do you think I'm a terrible person, Mack? Am I a bitch for being tired of all this- this Suzanne drama all the time?”

  “No, I don't think you're a bitch. You're a mean, sadistic, nasty, man-eating woman, but you're definitely not a bitch.”

  Wow. I think she's laughing. Laughing?! What the hell? Who makes someone laugh by saying such awful things to them? This is just so twisted.

  “Thanks, Mack. You're always so nice to me. When you dump the other Kayla, make sure you give me a call, okay?”

  “Give me a hug, and go home. You're totally exhausted. But I'll see you later, and I'll be out of your hair in the morning. And by the way, if I ever dump Kayla, another Kayla is the last person I'll be hooking up with. Just an FYI.” Is he smiling? He kind of sounds like it.

  “Fair enough, Mack.”

  When there’s nothing but silence, I think I kind of exhale. It's weird to be here, but not here. I feel like I'm intruding on these people, though they’re here in my dream. I don't know them and I don’t understand what's happening, but I feel kind of desperate to get away from them.

  I wish I could just wake up because I'm really tired of all this shit, too.

  “Mack, I really have enjoyed you being around. You're a great guy to live with. Actually, you hold the title of being the only man I've ever lived with. And though it’s only been 2 and a half months, I'm gonna miss your Mackness around my apartment.”

  “Kayla, please don't get all soft on me. Crashing at your place for the last 10 weeks has been absolute hell,” he laughs. “Go home and relax. I'll see you later.”

  “I'm sorry about earlier, Mack. I just thought I could scare her awake or something.”

  “I know exactly what you were trying to do, and it was a good thought. But I don't think scaring Suzanne is the way to get to her. Increasing her heart rate won't bring her back, but at least it IS proof that there's more going on now than there was before. We'll figure this out, and we'll have her back soon. I know it. You have to be patient, Kayla.”

  “I'm trying... But time is running out.”

  Times running out for what?

  “I know, but I won't stop fighting for her. Just be a little more patient and she'll be back with us soon, okay?”

  Where am I?

  “Okay. See you later, Mack. Did you want to have Chinese at midnight? You know, our last hurrah or something?”

  “Sounds good. I'll call it in and pick it up on my way back to your place. Just go home and relax. I need you to relax, and I need you to stay healthy for me.”

  “You know Mack... Suzanne was right about you. You really are the most amazing man, certainly, that I've ever known. I’ll see you at home. And thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  “Um, Suzanne… I’m really sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, or to be mean to you. I just want you to wake up so badly, I sometimes forget to be nice. But I'll see you soon- maybe in a few days. I just need a little break now, and I hope you understand. I’ve got to go for a few days, but I'll be back soon. I miss you, Suzanne.”

  When there is only silence I wait for more, and then...

  “Jesus, Suzanne. You just couldn't wake up and stop all THAT insanity, could you?”

  Ooops, sorry.

  CHAPTER 4

  MAY 5

  Am I awake? Honest to god, I can't figure out what's happening to me. I can hear people talking all the time. I hear that guy talking nonstop, but I'm just so cold and dark and alone.

  I can't understand what's happening here. I can't even figure out what I'm doing here. But I feel completely trapped.

  It's like I'm in a little crawl space, or maybe in a cave somewhere. It's like I'm a little girl hiding in the dark again, in the little hidden broom closet past the guest bedrooms.

  Oh! I remember my hiding spot. I remember staying in there when I was young when my mother would be calling out my name for my punishments.

  Ugh, I remember the smell of the closet where I hid. It was so gross in my little girl memory. It was like I was surrounded by lemons AND alcohol or bleach, or something chemical like that. It always smelled so potent and strong in the space where I hid. God, the smell used to burn my eyes and nose when I was little.

  The smell would sometimes even stick to my clothes and hair. Sometimes, after leaving my hidden closet I could smell that awful closet stench in my nose for a while, even after I changed my clothes and sprayed perfume on my hair. I know I didn't actually smell like lemons and alcohol anymore, but I still smelled it in my nose afterward when I was finally free. It was such a gross smell for me. It used to make me gag, even hours after I left the closet.

  God, I remember the little hidden broom closet where I hid. My mother would always pass the little closet on her way to our side of the upstairs; the side with our bedrooms. But sometimes she'd wait there in front of the door, maybe just thinking or waiting for me to surface. I don't actually know why she would just wait there, but she always did.

  Maybe she would wait in the hallway for me to show up suddenly because I stupidly thought she'd stopped looking for me... But I never thought that. I always knew she was still looking for me, and I never came out. I was never as stupid as she said I was.

  I remember sometimes hearing her talk to herself. I remember holding my breath while waiting, almost crying with my fear because I didn't want her to find me. I remember the bad things she would say about me when she didn't know I was in the little closet listening. I remember all her bad words about me, all the time.

  And I remember learning what some of those bad words meant afterwards. I used to try to remember what she called me when she was angry, so I could find out later what the words actually meant. I remember so many bad words from my mother, all the time.

  It was so sad for me to finally understand the words she called me, especially when I knew they weren't true. I knew I wasn't what she called me, and I knew I didn't do what she said I did. But she would still mumble the bad words about me to herself while I waited in silence, desperate to get free of the stinky, hidden, little broom closet on the guest side of the upstairs.

  For years, I remember desperately trying to wait her out. I remember counting for so long, sometimes even counting all the way to five thousand until she stopped waiting for me. I remember once even counting to ten thousand until I stopped hearing her call my name- I was really scared that day. That day she was extra angry at me for hiding, and she said lots and lots of bad words about me that weren't true.

  And sometimes even my father would call for me when my mother was very angry at me. But again, I just held my breath and waited for him to stop calling for me as well. I never came out of the closet for my father. And I NEVER came out for my mother when she was angry with me.

  After a long time, they usually gave up looking for me. Usually, they went away. Usually, I could wait them both out. Usually, if I was real quiet, counting silently in my head, crying silently in the dark, my parents would go away eventually.

  Usually, if I was really quiet they would stop looking for me,
and I would be safe for a while. Safe from the punishments and safe from all the bad words.

  It's funny that I was so afraid of her back then because my mother was just so small. She was so skinny all the time; it's like she stopped growing at 12 years old or something. Actually, I remember my mother was always sickly skinny.

  Why was I so afraid of her when I was little? Huh. It's kind of weird now, because I think I probably out-weighed her adult body when I was 12 years old myself.

  Why did she like looking like that? Who wants to be shaped like a little girl?

  My mother was just so skinny and small, and she always wore dark clothes to make herself look even skinnier. She told me I should always wear dark clothes to look skinny because she looked good and she was skinny. She told me we had to be skinny so men liked touching us.

  So my mother was super skinny like a little girl, but she had awful wrinkly hands like an old lady. God, my mother's hands and arms were so skinny and bony when I was little, she always looked like a little girl skeleton to me. I didn't know why she wanted to be that skinny. I didn’t know why she wanted her bones to push out of her skin, but that's what she wanted, so that's what they did.

  I remember when she bushed my hair when I was young I hated seeing her hands touch me through the mirror. My mother would hum quietly while staring at my eyes through the mirror, just as I watched through the mirror her lovely face while she hummed and brushed my hair.

  I remember always closing my eyes during this quiet time with her, and I remember my mother always kissing the back of my head once my eyes were finally closed.

  I think she thought I liked her brushing my hair when I was little, but I really didn't. My mother's skinny skeleton hands scared me so badly I used to have to try very hard not to shake from my fear of them.