I do not own Split.
I do love Christmas.
The Light of the Casey
Casey Cooke and the Happy Holiday Horde
"Good afternoon, Mr. Dennis."
"Good afternoon, Casey."
She knows it is him.
The sternness of his expression gives right it away.
The clipped syllables of his words . . .
"Are you here to see Kevin?"
. . . verifies it.
And Casey Cooke smiles.
"Actually, I came to see several of you."
Mr. Dennis frowns, psychological walls reflexively going up.
He cannot help this; he will always be this way.
And Casey keeps her smile.
She knows her intentions. And by the time she is done, so will they.
She sets her large bag on the counter, open at the top so he can see in.
"I don't know if any of you ever got a Christmas present so . . ."
And since she knows he doesn't like to be handed things, sets the small wrapped gift on the table between them.
Dennis' confusion is clear.
He stares at it as if it is a poisonous pit viper.
Casey, having anticipated his wariness, calmly sets a cylinder of Clorax wipes on the table next to the box.
Dennis clearly relieved.
When the outer surface of the item is acceptably cleaned, the obsessive-compulsive man reaches into his pocket and removes . . .
Stay calm, Casey.
. . . a switchblade.
Neatly slices the ribbon with care and precision, the wrapping paper. And lays bare the box.
Clorax wiped, the box itself is now carefully opened.
And the ceramic item within lifted out.
With the aid of a Kleenex tissue.
And set . . .
"I know you like to drink black coffee before you clean. Merry Christmas, Mr. Dennis."
. . . on the table.
Mr. Dennis, You're An Amazing Cleaner. You Keep That Shit Up!
He reads it carefully.
Frowns further. If that's even possible.
"Is this a joke? Are you making fun of me?"
And Casey . . .
Stay calm. Stay calm.
"No, Mr. Dennis. Not at all. I just think you should be proud of what a badass cleaner you are."
. . . attempts to reassure.
He seems to muse on this, clenching and unclenching his jaw over and over again.
Calm.
And finally . . .
"Thank you, Casey."
. . . Casey Cooke watches on as Mr. Dennis, one of the first of Kevin Wendell Crumb's alters . . .
"I do think I . . . I like it very much."
. . . relaxes as many of his tense muscles as he is possible to relax.
And smiles.
"Casey, hello, dear."
"Hello, Ms. Patricia. It's nice to see you."
"Oh, it is always so nice to see you, dear. You look hungry. Have you eaten?"
"Yes. I had a sandwich."
And before the matronly alter can gently interrogate her further, Casey sets a box from the bag down on the table . .
"Merry Christmas, Ms. Patricia."
Exotic Teas of the World.
"Oh, Casey, what a thoughtful gift. You know how I enjoy my tea in the evenings. And so many flavors to choose from, how delightful. May I give you a hug, child?"
"Of course. I'm glad you like it."
"Oh most definitely, dear. Most definitely."
Handmade tamales from the food truck on the corner for Rakel.
"!Muchas gracias, mi amiga! Oh, Dios te bendiga!"
Sugar free candy for Jade.
"Oh my god, honey, I didn't even know they made this! Oh my god! I'm going to eat it all by myself when no one is looking!"
Waterproof paper for Barry.
"-case you get inspiration while you're in the shower-"
"-oh my god, can I tell you the number of times I've had to dive out of the shower to try and find paper, and then of course, Mr. Dennis yells about the water on the floor-"
An AuthaGraph world map for Orwell.
"Why, thank you, Casey. So refreshing to see that someone informed around here-"
A Scottish Pride plaque . . .
"We are Scottish, Not Because We Were Born in Scotland But Because Scotland Was Born In Us."
. . . for Mary Reynolds and Ian.
"Ooh, mi wee bonny lass, how did ye ever find-"
Texas Pecan Coffee for Luke.
"Now this is what ya drink first thing in the morning, wheww, I tell you what-"
A DVD copy of Wanted . . .
"I'm sorry, I don't understand-"
"You will."
. . . for the constantly apologetic Norma.
For several of the alters that not even Kevin can elaborate more on . . .
"-even talk much to me, I'm not even sure they can-"
She simply holds up a sign to them.
You are important to me.
And hopes they will allow them to venture a peek at the hearfelt message . . .
You matter.
. . . she is offering to them.
There's Hedwig.
"-gned poster of Snails, you know, that band that plays that song you like-"
"-Frogbass?! No way, Casey, that's so cool, etcetera! You're the best girlfriend ever-"
"Oh, well, uh, . . ."
And of course . . .
I can do this. He responds differently to me.
. . . The Beast.
She had not been able to think of a thing she may give him . . .
I can't afford a slab of Wagu beef.
. . . that would not move him to chew her head off like a human lollipop.
Instead, . . .
"Little Girl, what do you want?"
. . . she simply lifts her shirt.
Just enough.
Just enough to show her belly.
The white scarred flesh of self-multilation.
When it was all the control she felt she had.
Induce one type of pain . . .
I did not die.
. . . to survive another.
"I am still here. I am still alive. I survived. And I am free."
And sees the satisfaction, the respect . . .
"You will thrive. You will outlast them all."
. . . on the carved face of the . . .
"You will outlast them all, Little Girl."
. . . of the ruthlessly savage . . .
"Yes. I believe I will."
. . . creature from the pits of Kevin Wendell Crumb's splintered psyche.
And Casey Cooke believes she has done . . .
"Yes. You will."
. . . alright.
"You've made them all so happy!"
Kevin's usually drawn face is practically glowing with joy.
"I've never seen them all so happy! Even the ones that are still crying are happy!"
He looks free, he looks unencumbered.
Kevin Wendell Crumb himself looks . . .
"Casey, you're amazing!"
. . . happy.
And he spontaneously hugs her . . .
"I'm sorry-"
. . . before pulling himself back . . .
"I didn't mean, I just-"
. . . in abject embarrassment.
And Casey smiles.
"It's okay, Kevin. I couldn't think of what to get you for Christmas so . . ."
And Kevin relaxes.
". . . I just tried to make everyone happy. Maybe so you could have a little peace too. Just for a little while."
And cannot resist kissing his own hand . . .
"You did, Casey. You did so much."
. . . and transferring that kiss to her palm with a quick, furtive movement.
"Thank you, Casey. Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, Kevin."
God, remember Clorax wipes?! I have box under my sink, the family has to be in serious need in order to use one. Stupid coronavirus.
Anyway, this may be silly, but wouldn't it be nice to for everyone in Kevin's Horde to just be okay for a little while?
Just a little?
Anyway, happy holidays, whatever you celebrate.
Thank you to any gracious readers and reviewers of this story and supporters and followers as well.
I hope that you are safe and well.