“Hello.” I sat there and allowed her to kiss me some more, run her fingers through my hair, touch me. Endured it and kissed back and knew how hookers feel. Sweat broke out on my forehead. I wiped it on my sleeve.
She said, “Would you like water?” Got up and poured me some from Shirlee’s pitcher.
I used the time to clear my head. When she came back I said, “Was Paul treating you for anything other than unblocking the past?”
“Actually it didn’t start out as real therapy- just clinical supervision, the usual stuff about how my feelings and communications style affected my work. But as we got into it, he could see that I had… identity problems, a poor sense of self, low self-esteem. I felt incomplete. And guilty.”
“Guilty about what?”
“Everything. Leaving Shirlee and Jasper- they’re darling. I really cared for them, but I never felt I belonged to them. And Helen. Even though she’d basically raised me, she wasn’t my mother- there was always a wall between us. It was confusing.”
I nodded.
“That first year of grad school,” she said, “there was a lot of pressure, being expected to actually help other people. It terrified me- that’s why I broke down in practicum. I guess, down deep, I agreed with what the others were saying, felt like an impostor.”
“Everyone feels that way at first.”
She smiled. “Always the therapist. That’s what you were that night. My rock. When I saw your name on the party list I guess I thought history might repeat itself.”
I said, “Before you met Sherry- before you knew about her- did you ever fantasize about having a twin?”
“Yes, all the time, when I was a child. But I never gave much credence to that. I was the type of kid who fantasized about everything.”
“Was there one twin image that kept recurring?”
Nod. “A girl my age who looked exactly like me, but was confident, popular, assertive. I named her Big Sharon, even though she was exactly my size, because her personality loomed. Paul said I saw myself as puny. Insignificant. Big Sharon stayed behind the scenes but she could always be counted on to help when things got rough. Years later, when I took my first psych course, I learned that kind of thing was normal- kids do it all the time. But I was doing it even into adolescence, even in college. I was embarrassed about it, afraid I’d talk in my sleep and my roommates would think I was weird. So I made a conscious effort to get rid of Big Sharon and finally grow up. Eventually, I managed to suppress her out of existence. But she came out under hypnosis, when Paul was probing. I began talking about her. Then to her. Paul said she was my partner. My silent partner, hanging around in the background. He said everyone has one- that’s really what Freud was getting at with ego, id, superego. That it was okay to have her- she was nothing more than another part of me. That was a very affirmative message.”
“And in autumn he decided to introduce you to your real silent partners.”
She tightened. The glazed smile took hold of her face again.
“Yes. By then the time was right.”
“How did he arrange it?”
“He called me into his office, said he had something to tell me. That I’d better sit down- it might be traumatic. But it would definitely be significant, a growth experience. Then he hypnotized me, gave me suggestions for deep muscle relaxation, transcendent serenity. When I was really mellow, he told me I was one of the luckiest people in the world because I had a real silent partner- two partners, actually. That I was one of three. Triplets.”
She turned, faced me, took both my hands in hers. “Alex, all those feelings of not being complete- the attempt to fill the hole with Big Sharon- had been my subconscious mind not allowing me to forget, despite the repression. The fact that I’d been able to talk to Big Sharon in therapy was a sign to him that I’d reached a higher level, was ready to get in touch with my identity as one third of a whole.”
“How’d finding out make you feel?”
“At first it was wonderful. A wave of happiness washed over me- I was drunk with joy. Then, suddenly, everything got cold and dark and the walls started closing in.”
She wrapped her arms around me, held me tight.
“It was unreal, Alex- unbelievably horrible. As if someone was stepping on my chest, crushing me. I was sure I was about to die. I tried to scream, but no sound came out. Tried to stand up and fell, began crawling toward the door. Paul picked me up, held me, kept talking in my ear, telling me everything was all right, to breathe slowly and deeply, get my breathing rhythmic, it was just an anxiety attack. Finally I managed to do it but I didn’t feel normal. All my senses were stuffed. I was ready to burst. Then something came out, from deep inside of me- a terrible scream, louder than I’d ever screamed before. Someone else’s scream- it didn’t sound like me. I tried to step away from it, sit in the therapist’s chair and watch someone else scream. But it was me and I couldn’t stop. Paul clamped his hand over my mouth. When that didn’t work, he slapped my face. Hard. It hurt but it felt good, if you can understand that. To be cared for.”
“I understand,” I said.
She said, “Thank you,” and kissed me again.
“Then what?”
“Then he held me till I was calm. Stretched me out on the floor and let me lie there and put me deeper in hypnosis. Then he told me to open my eyes, reached into his shirt pocket- I can still see it: he was wearing a red silk shirt- and handed me a snapshot. Two little girls. Me and another me. He said to look on the back, he’d written something there. I did: S and S, Silent Partners. He said that was my catechism, my healing mantra. And the photo was my icon- he’d gotten it for me to keep. When in doubt or troubled, I should use it, fall into it. Then he told me to fall into it then and there and began telling me about the other girl. That her name was Sherry. She’d been his patient for years, long before he met me. The first time he saw me, he thought it was her. Meeting both of us was a miracle- miraculous karma- and his goal in life since then had been reuniting us into a functioning unit. A family.”
“How long had he kept her existence from you?”
“Just a short time. He couldn’t tell me about her until she agreed. She was his patient- everything was confidential.”
“But to get her to agree, he must have told her about you.”
She frowned, as if working on a difficult puzzle. “That was different. Ours was a supervision therapy- he viewed me as a fellow professional, thought I could handle it. It had to start somewhere, Alex. Breaking the circle.”
I said, “Of course. How did she react to learning about you?”
“At first she refused to believe him, even after he showed her a copy of the photo. Claimed it was trick photography, took a long time to accept the fact that I existed. Paul told me she’d been raised without love, had trouble bonding. Looking back, I realize he was warning me, right from the beginning. But I was in no state to consider negative input. All I knew was that my life had changed- magically. Triplets, the empty vessel filled.”
“Two out of three,” I said.
“Yes, a moment later I realized that and asked about my other partner. He said we’d gone far enough, ended the session. Then he served me herb tea and a light dinner, had Suzanne give me a massage, drove me home and told me to try on my new identity.”
“Home,” I said. “Who gave you the house?”
“Paul did. He told me it was a rental property of his that no one was using and he wanted me to live in it- I needed a new place for my new life. This one was perfect for me, harmonious, in synchrony with my vibrations.”