Just Me, Him, and Ten Others - (Ruth Harris Series)

Chapter 22

'Ruth, I want you to sit down.'
               I looked around the office, hesitant to move. I knew this place well. I hated it.
'Can't I go home yet?' I begged. 'Please, Dr Westone. There's nothing wrong with me. This morning somebody introduced himself to me as 'King Rajesh of Scotland'! Seriously, I am not like these people. Half of them think they're on another planet, and the other half of them are hostile for no reason! I can't get better in a place like this.'
'Now, why would you need to 'get better' if there's nothing wrong with you?' Westone asked equivocally.
'What?'
               He didn't answer. He knew I'd heard him. 'Okay, fine, I'm crazy. Happy now?' I said after a minute's thought. 'But I'm not like these people. I'm not delusional.'
'So what are you?' Dr Westone leaned back in his chair and eyed me up and down, as if he didn't know the answer to that yet either.
'I'm...I'm me. I'm more of the always-losing-control,-depressed-and-anxious-with-low-self-esteem type of crazy. I'm only here to please my family, but I can do just fine on my own.'
'Can you?' Hailey and Westone asked together. I sighed.
'Look, being here, and seeing how delusional some people are, it's shown me that I'm not as bad as I thought. So can I go home now?'
               And that was the first honest thing I said to Dr Westone. It took a week.
               'Everyone's deluded to some extent, Ruth.' Westone replied, wistfully. 'And 99% of the time, our delusions are created by ourselves. I like to think I'm not quite bald yet, but that's simply not true. Whenever I look in the mirror I notice that the hair up there is getting slightly thinner, but when I look away again, I begin to think it's not so bad.'
'Cool story. Can I go home now?' I asked again, still standing by the shut door.
'No, you can't. Sit down, please.'
               I glared at him, but obeyed. I chose the armchair opposite his and folded my legs into it. 'Thank you, Ruth. Now, I've told you how I delude myself. Tell me what you tell yourself that isn't true.'
'Why?'
               Silence. 'I don't delude myself, Doctor.'
'You just did.'
'No, I didn't!' I argued. 'I don't lie to myself. I'm not crazy! I don't think I'm the Indian King of Scotland, and I don't think I'm balding or whatever you said.'
               Westone paused for a moment.
'You tried to kill yourself.'
'No. I've already told you, Blaze tried to kill himself.'
'Because you asked him to?'
               I didn't respond to that one. I just stared out of the window on the other side of the room.
               'What's that writing on your arm?'
'Names.' I grumbled. I knew follow up questions were coming, so I added, 'The names of my alters.'
'Why did you write them on your arm?'
'Because I felt like it.'
'No, it's because you wanted to know what order you think of us in, and how many of us there are. Also, why the hell is Hailey on the list before me?' Julie hissed into my ear.
'I thought it was because she wanted a list so she could tick us off as we came out? So when Hailey inevitably takes over tonight when it's time to take our sleeping pills, Ruth can tick her off and keep track of who has come out.'
'Fischer, you really think all of us will come out at some point?'
'We're going to be in this hospital a while, Julie. We may need a way to pass the time.'
               'Read the names out to me.' Westone said, his silky voice cutting through our internal conversation. It wasn't a question. He readied his pen and notepad.
'What?'
'The names, on your arm. Read them out, in order.'
'No.' I fidgeted. 'Why?'
'Because I want to know how many people are in this room right now.'
               I took a deep breath and tried to keep myself calm. I couldn't expose my selves like this. Only a handful of people in the world knew the names of my alters, and fewer people had met them all. Only one person loved them all, and that was Hunter Brookes. He was the one who had made all the difference. His commitment and love and sincerity was the one thing that made me want to live forever, even when every other person in my head wanted to die.
               Westone was losing hope that I would deliver the list of names, when I mumbled something under my breath.
'Sorry, Ruth?'
'Emilia.'
'That's the first name?'
'Yeah. Emilia. Charity. Hailey, Julie, Monika Fischer. January, then X, -'
'X? That's the name of one of your alters?'
'Yeah. Don't ask my why, she chose it. Then Jim, George, and, er, B-Blaze.'
'Ten altogether?'
'Eleven.' I said.
'Oh, I only have ten -'
'Because you missed one: Ruth Harris.'
               Westone glanced up at me and I smiled. He did too, although it was small and soon vanished.
'Of course, how could I be so silly. Have you written Ruth on your arm?'
'No, because it's Ruth's arm. I'm the host, this is my body. January or Julie, or maybe Hailey, might tell you it's theirs, but they're wrong. It's mine, they just share it with me.'
'I see. Can you tell me about them?'
'My alters?'
'Yes. Maybe just one fact per alter, or whatever you think is most appropriate.'
'I-I -'
'I'm not trying to expose you, Ruth, or shame you in any way.' Westone said, his voice and face reassuring. 'But the more you tell me, the more I can help you. Think of it as preparing me for the next time I have the privilege of meeting one of your alters. It would be nice to have an icebreaker or two!'
               Westone's friendliness eventually resonated with me, so I took a deep breath, and answered,
'Okay. Emilia is three years old - she doesn't age. She thinks I'm her mother, I've never understood why. It was weird, having her call me 'mummy' when I was a kid too. Charity is somewhere over seventy, religious, American. She's always telling me I'll go to hell if I don't trust Jesus, and still she's the loveliest person I know. Hailey is a typical teenager: rebellious and rude, and loves making trouble because she's insecure, deep down. Julie speaks in my head, but turns mute when hosting. She's hot-headed and loves spending money. Fischer is a doctor, and German. She's the sensible one. January pretends to be me, and she has OCD. I can always tell when she's been out because whatever room I'm in is suddenly spotless.' I took a second to catch my breath. Westone's left hand appreciated it.
               'X,' I sighed, 'X is a sex addict. She'll throw herself at anyone I'm not related to, regardless of their age, gender or hygiene. She does seem to prefer tall men, though. She's humiliated me many times. Jim is a six year old boy from London, and he talks posh, like a Victorian. He has depression. He hates coming out because he's shy and terrified of everything, but sometimes he takes bullets for me when I can't cope. Who's next? Oh, George is a veteran. He fought in World War Two. He loves cigars and his grandkids and chess, boring stuff like that. Oh, and he needs glasses. I - Ruth - am twenty two years old. I like watching old films and playing board games and cooking and spending time with people.'
               'There's one more.' Westone prompted after a moment's silence. I lowered my gaze. 'Ruth, tell me something about Blaze. Just one thing.'
'He exists.' I grumbled.
'Stop deflecting the question.' Hailey said. 'Blaze ain't nothing to be ashamed of!'
'Thank you.'
'Huh? That's it!? He's gonna eat that up?'
'You - you don't want any more information?' I asked my therapist, bewildered.
'Not today. You've been very open and honest with me, Ruth, and I appreciate that.'
               Uncomfortable, I checked the clock behind me and saw that our session was nearly over.
'Hey, Doc?'
'Yes?'
'I felt like screaming yesterday. Everyone in the West Wing is so dull, and off with the fairies most of the time. They're so drugged up they can barely swallow their own drool.'
'Did you scream?'
'No. But I really, really wanted to. I wanted to see what would happen if I just stood in the common area and screamed at the top of my lungs. I wonder if anyone would react.' I said. 'Just, please, promise me I won't end up like that. I don't want to lose myself in here, I want to find myself.'
'Okay.' Dr Westone nodded kindly at me. 'I promise, that's what we'll do.'

*

'With everything that's happened: Mike going back to Southampton, you coming out of the hospital...I - I want you to live here.'
               'Ruth, did you hear me?' Hunter asked. I looked up at him, adjusting to being back in his flat. I was holding papers, for some reason. I put them down on his desk, beside a bra.
'Yeah, I heard you.' I gulped. He looked even more nervous than I did. 'A-Are you sure that's what you want, Hunter? Because I-I'm not just a girlfriend: I'm a responsibility. I'm a lot of work, and I've only just found myself again -'
'Ruth, I love you.' Hunter said assuredly. 'I love being close to you and spending time with you. When you're not here, it's horrible. I miss you constantly and I, I worry.'
'I don't want you to worry about me.' I said. 'You shouldn't.'
'I know. I'm working on it.'
               We both smiled at each other as much as we could, and relaxed.
'Okay then, Hunter Brookes, I'll move in with you. I would be honoured.' I said, walking over to his wheelchair. 'As long as you're only asking because you love me, and not because you worry about me.'
               Hunter smiled and reached out his good arm.
'I love you more than anything, Ruth. I know I don't have to worry anymore. I know that. And, you're right.'
'About what?'
'You're not just my girlfriend. You're my whole world.'