Chapter Eighteen

Cherie

"Cherie?"

This was Elliot. The intensity of his gaze just moments before had disappeared, replaced by curiosity. Perhaps a bit of fear, too. While he was trying to find a reaction on my face, I was searching for one inside myself.

"Say something," Elliot urged. "Please."

I was at a loss for words. How does one properly respond to information like this? All it did was spur more questions.

"Who was that?" I asked.

"It's…hard to explain," he replied, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Do they have a name? Something you call them?"

Elliot hesitated for a moment. "Mr. Robot," he said finally.

I held Elliot's gaze for a moment longer, wishing he had told me about this Mr. Robot. It would have made this moment less awkward. I was warned not to ask too many questions. Whatever Elliot would (Could?) tell me would have to be self-volunteered.

"Listen," I said. "This whole night has been really…" What was the right adjective? "…unexpected."

Elliot nodded in agreement. "I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to leave."

"Yeah, I'm…going to go," I said. Then quickly added, "For now."

"OK. I'll…see you later, then?"

"Well…yeah."

He nodded. "Just…think about it."

"Think about what?" I asked.

He shook his head as he shrugged. "Everything."

I could see in his face that he was searching for reassurance. He was scared. Afraid that me walking out the door would mean the end of any relationship with him. I put my hand to his cheek and his gaze met mine.

"I will see you later," I assured him. Then I held up the pill bottle. "Thank you, again. You don't know how much this means to me."

Elliot said nothing, but he nodded. Then I stepped out into the hall. But as I turned towards my door, I stopped. There was so much more that I wanted, and needed, to know. So, I took out my phone and sent a text to the one person I could trust to give me straight answers.

1001110

A short time later, I was sitting in a booth at a nearby diner. I'd started putting sugar into my second cup of coffee when Darlene arrived. There wasn't a greeting or any pleasantries. She placed her bag beside her as she slid into the booth, and she ordered a short stack of pancakes before she spoke to me.

"So," she said, crossing her arms on the table and leaning in close. "What's the sitch?"

"Does the name 'Mr. Robot' mean anything to you?" I asked.

Darlene's face went blank. Her chest rose with an inhaled breath before she answered. "Yeah, it does."

"I thought so."

She sat back in her seat. "So, you must have some idea as to what it's all about."

"Well…some."

Darlene gave me a sideways glance, intrigued by my reply. "What do you know about D.I.D.?"

So, I told her. I had taken psychology in school, but it was during a stay in the psych ward (my third visit) that I had encountered it firsthand. One of the other girls had the disorder and was committed after one of her multiples physically harmed her.

D.I.D. stands for Dissociative Identity Disorder, formerly Multiple Personality Disorder. It usually results as a defense mechanism for coping with severe childhood traumas. Darlene nodded when I said this. Just then the waitress arrived with the pancakes. Darlene smothered them in syrup before we resumed our conversation.

"Here's what I can tell you," she said. "There are…sometimes…when Elliot checks out. Something gets…too stressful, too emotional. Something sparks a really painful memory. That's when Mr. Robot steps in."

I nodded, because that much I understood. Elliot had been standing in front of me, physically, but my conversations were with Mr. Robot. Even though he was a part of Elliot, his tone of voice, his mannerisms and even his body language were entirely different from that of Elliot's. It was these differences that finally clued me into the possibility of D.I.D.

"You know," I said. "When I asked you if I needed to be worried about anything…"

"This isn't it," Darlene interrupted.

"Really?"

She cocked her head to one side. "How different would it have been if you'd known from the start?"

I tried to picture it. But I knew exactly how it would have been. If I had known from the start, I never would have gotten involved. At least, not to the point that things had evolved so far.

"Look," Darlene said. "They've battled with each other in the past, but this isn't something you need to be too concerned with. You know, unless…"

"Unless what?"

She gave me a coy smile and set her fork down. Then she placed her hands on the table, one on top of the other.

"What are your intentions with my brother?" she asked.

I couldn't help but blush, a silly smile forming on my lips. "We, um…we did kiss earlier."

Darlene's smile widened. "OK. And?"

I shrugged. "It's just…I don't think he likes me."

"Mr. Robot doesn't like anyone at first. It's only because he's looking out for Elliot."

Don't. Hurt. Elliot. I kept hearing that phrase over and over in my head. No, I did not want to hurt Elliot. I didn't have all the information, but suddenly my own mental problems seemed to pale in comparison to that of Elliot's. So, I had to ask myself; am I strong enough to handle a relationship with him? Is he strong enough to handle a relationship with me?