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“There is a concept,” Cecil says, “of a self. There is usually one of these, and that is often self defined as one self.”
“Go on,” Carlos said, listening intently. Cecil went on like this often, but it seemed important this time.
“And in some cases there are several selves confined in one body. This can be self defined, finding parts of the one self and separating them into new parts. And sometimes it’s very sudden and jarring, waking up one morning to find a lipstick note on your mirror and you wonder… when did I buy lipstick? To feel yourself suddenly not be one but two or three or four. Knowing there are people with you not physically in the room, but in your head. It’s terrifying and the concept of self seems to fade a bit. There is you, of course, and you have always been you, but where do you end and the other begin? Where are your outlines when you physically can’t see these other people?”
“Are you talking about yourself?” Carlos asked, placing his hand on Cecil’s knee. “Honey, I know this helps you cope but sometimes you need to be more direct. I can’t understand you if you’re being vague. It’s not my fault, it’s just literally how my brain is wired.”
“Your brain is wired?”
“No,” Carlos said, his hands flying to his lips as if he could take the words back. “No, of course it isn’t. I mean, not all of it of course but not wired in a way that other people can hear your through my brain, bar myself of course, and not wired like I’m a robot. That was poor choice of words, I’m sorry, Cecil.”
Cecil let out a breath of relief, leaning his head on Carlos’ shoulder and staring straight ahead. He had to move onwards with the conversation, he’d pulled a drain and now the water had to leave the tub, even if it wanted to stay. Maybe he should have waited a few more months into the relationship.
“I am not one man,” he said, “ but instead several men - several beings - inside of one man shaped body. I was ripped apart before I could remember, and I know I was torn because of the jagged edged between me and the others. I don’t know what did this to us, what or who did this to me but we are all very much real and here.”
“Do you want to change?” Carlos asked, which took Cecil by surprise.
“Why would I ever want to change?” Cecil asked. Carlos shrugged.
“Some people would be afraid of living like that.”
“Carlos, I’m not most people.”
Carlos smiled and mimicked him, “I’m Cecil and I’m not like other guys.”
Cecil tapped him playfully, sending his voice high, “I’m Carlos and I’m… super sexy?” He laughed, his voice going back to a regular tone, “I’m sorry, I can’t make fun of you.”
They laughed together, then fell into silence again, both thinking. Cecil found himself lost in the universe where Carlos had reacted badly to this. He could feel the split in the universes and could see him and Carlos standing in the middle of his partment fighting, the word ‘crazy’ being tossed around like a heavy boulder. That didn’t happen, though, right? He was resting his head on Carlos’s shoulder and Carlos had his arm around Cecil, they were together and close and in love, very, very much in love.
Carlos wouldn’t change him for the world, Cecil realized.
“Do they have names?” Carlos asked, taking his arm back from Cecil long enough to take his glasses off and set them on the coffee table. Cecil took his off too, leaning in for a kiss.
“I don’t know,” Cecil said resting back down on the couch, Carlos’s arm going back around him. “Well, yes I do but they have titles and not names.”
“Can you tell me them?” Carlos prompted, accompanying the please with another kiss. “Only if you want.”
“There’s me,” Cecil began, holding up a finger to represent not only himself but everything he stood for. “I write the show. Then there’s the Voice, who performs them. We’re friends and he’s the only one I’m in contact with. We write notes to each other, which, of course, are read by the government.” He held up another finger. “Then there’s… Well its name is STATIC.” Cecil held up another finger, three in total now. “It was on the radio when the woman from Italy was here. It… I don’t know much about it but it scares me.”
Carlos nodded. “Has the Voice talked to me? You know, this actually makes a lot of sense. I knew you dissociated and that influenced behaviors but it never occurred to me it might be as severe as dissociative identity disorder.”
Cecil stared at him helplessly, trying to understand. “Severe?”
Carlos backtracked again, hitting his hand out of frustration. Cecil grabbed his hand, holding it back, a silent ask for him not to hurt himself anymore.
“Right,” Carlos said, shaking his head instead, stimming enough to calm himself. “No I don’t mean severe, I’m just a scientist.”
That seemed to be enough of an excuse for Cecil, who said, “Oh.”
“I’ve seen the difference between you,” Carlos went on, trying to move away from the topic. “The Voice is a bit more prim and proper than you. STATIC is… obviously, it’s very much itself.”
Cecil pushed himself closer to Carlos, trying desperately to stay present. He nodded, holding Carlos’s hand maybe a bit too tight. Carlos didn’t push him away, though, the pressure felt nice on his sore joints. This time the silence was filled with less thinking and more pleasure in each other’s company.
“I love you,” Cecil said. “We love you.”
“You do?” Carlos asked. “I mean, I mean… You love me of course, but…?”
Cecil smiled. “We do.”
Carlos kissed him. “Good, because I love each and every one of you.”