I heard the door close. I shifted my eyes from the pink armchair to the green sofa. I couldn’t decide which I wanted today. New Agers say that pink is love and green is healing. I
wondered what color is lobotomy. Milton settled into his chair. It faced both choices. I remained fixed in front of him. I pressed my hand against my chest in an effort to slow my breathing.
“Try the couch,” said Milton. How can he always be so calm in a crisis?
I sat down and said,“I got fired and I have a chance to audition as a voice-over talent for an animated show on television.”
“Interesting,” said Milton, seemingly unfazed. “How did this happen?”
I wanted to throw a pillow at him.
“Betty Jane made friends with someone who works for a producer and the friend taped her talking; then the producer came in and wanted to hear this great Southern voice I do. I didn’t know he wanted to hear it, but Betty Jane knew, and he heard it.” My tone climbed several octaves, but Milton’s face remained unchanged. “Betty Jane did a hostile takeover even though you’ve told her over and over not to. She started speaking and the producer said they’d pay for classes and give me an audition in a month or two. I don’t know when, but soon.” My voice trailed there at the end.The changes in Milton’s face told me that he’d connected all the dots and knew there were plenty missing.
Milton made a steeple with his fingers. I hated it when he did this because it reminded me of a church, and he knew how I felt about church and anything religious; and he knew I thought this pointed gesture was meant to mock me. But now wasn’t the time to bring that up. Milton continued to stare at me.
“I guess you want to know how the first guy heard Betty Jane’s voice.”
Milton raised his eyebrows and nodded.
Inside my head, Betty Jane sat ramrod straight on the couch, fiddling with her sunflower pin. She never took that damn thing off. She even pinned it to her nighttime negligee so I’d see it
when she slept. I expected the nail file to be out at any moment. When Betty Jane wanted to pretend she wasn’t paying attention, she attended to her manicure.We all knew she was listening, and she knew we knew, but the game went on anyway.As soon as this conversation got interesting, she’d start filing her nails while that sunflower jeered at me.
“Well, I let her speak from time to time in the diner,” I lied sheepishly. Milton’s eyebrows shot up a bit farther.
Nice arch,
I thought.
“Pay attention!” snapped Ruffles inside my head.
Oh
. I closed my eyes. Ruffles sat on her pillow shoveling in chips at an accelerated pace, which meant she was still mad. Last night I had told her not to blame me for this mess with Walter, Mike, and their TV show. She was just as culpable, because she had spoken in the diner too.
I opened my eyes again. Milton’s face remained unchanged. “Okay, well, Betty Jane and sometimes Ruffles . . .” I saw Ruffles narrow her eyes because I’d just thrown her under the bus. Although, if that were truly the case, given her massiveness, the bus would fold up like an accordion on impact if she were lying in front of it. So, technically, I didn’t throw her under the bus.
“Goddamn it, Holly,” said Ruffles.
See what I mean? Never allowed a private thought.
“Betty Jane started taking over to get better tips.We did get better tips, and, well, I tried to fight it, but I couldn’t.Then Ruffles offered to pitch in and it kind of became a competition of who could get the most tips. It helped when I was really behind and I needed to make people laugh or smooth things over.They’re both really good at that. And then this guy came in and Betty Jane flirted with him. . . .” My voice trailed off. Betty Jane might be good at making people think what she wanted them to, but I wasn’t.
“You were too lazy to work and I saw an opportunity,” said Betty Jane. She smiled at me and I swear I saw that sunflower shake and cackle. But she was half-right.
“Holly, how can I trust you when you’ve been keeping things from me?” said Milton.
“A few minor things,” I said. His face remained impassive. “She wouldn’t let me tell you.” I left out the part where I never tried.
“Holly—”
“Okay, but now I’m in a real mess,” I said.
“Let me think a moment,” Milton snapped.
For a normal person, snapping conveyed irritation. For Milton, it meant the whistle on the kettle was about to blow. I’d seen him this angry only once, when I brought coffee to a session and then accidentally kicked it over on his pink Oriental rug. Apparently, it was a family heirloom. I thought it was just old. Since then no liquid of any form made it out of the waiting room.
I sat on the couch breathing hard. I wanted Milton to be on my side and help me. I hated it when he was mad at me. It made me feel stretched across a middle that was more like a chasm.
“You have a real dilemma here,” said Milton. That brought me back.
“Never one to miss the obvious, are you?” I said. Tears threatened.
“So, what do you propose to do?”
“Well, if I knew, would I be here?” I crossed my arms and sat back.
“Holly, you have placed yourself in a serious predicament,” said Milton. His voice at least sounded kind.
“I didn’t. Betty Jane did. Now you have to fix it.” The tears
broke through. I pulled a tissue from the box on the end table and blew my nose.
“Let’s start with the most important question,” said Milton. “Do you want to do this?”
“No!”
I said.
“No?” said Milton.
See what I mean? Never one to miss the obvious.
“Well, I did think about it, but only because I got a call from an agent yesterday. Turns out the director made an appointment for me.We’re supposed to meet tomorrow.”
“Holly!” said Ruffles. For the first time I felt a spark of anger toward her. So what if I lied about the call? So what if there was no meeting? I was tired of being so incapacitated. I wanted a better life. Why didn’t she? “Not like this, Holly,” said Ruffles. And with that, the spark went out and I felt deflated again.
“Well, it sounds like you’re committed,” said Milton.
“Not really. I can cancel. I mean, to even try to do this, I’d have to give Betty Jane control.” I didn’t have to tell Milton how frightening that thought was. I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s not really something I can do. Right?” I whispered.
“Well, if it is something you want to do, then let’s talk about how you can.”
My jaw dropped and hung in an astonished gape.The entire Committee froze inside my head as if put on pause. Milton had just taken an unexpected turn off the road of
no way
, crossed
maybe
, and veered onto the road of
let’s see if we can make this happen
.
I inhaled and the Committee sat down. “Uh, okay. But, I mean, how? It is not like the Committee speaks on demand.You know that. They won’t even talk to you. Well, all right, some of them will, but
she
doesn’t talk to you unless
she
wants to. I’ve
never been able to make her do anything I want. And neither have you.” I was referring to the time when Milton, through me, had subtly suggested that Betty Jane ease off just a bit. In response, she eased off and out completely. At first we were all relieved. Her departure felt like having the bullying boss go on vacation. After a couple of days, though, everything went wrong. It reminded me of the summer I graduated from high school—a time of my life I didn’t want to relive. Ever. When Betty Jane returned declaring she’d been on a shopping trip, we welcomed her back with open arms. Admittedly, the hugs, kisses, and presents she brought for us made the open-arms part a lot easier. She had something for everyone but Milton. Obviously, the delivery of any gift to Milton would have been a challenge, but that didn’t make Betty Jane’s slight any less calculated or intentional. They hadn’t spoken since that time, though. So, technically, Milton never had to deal with her return.
“Holly, one hurdle at a time,” said Milton. Inside my head I saw Ruffles’s chip-filled hand hanging midway to her mouth, and I knew she and I had the same thought—Milton actually meant it when he said, “Let’s talk about how you can do this.”
Milton and I both stared at his finger church. Finally he said, “I have an idea.”
“Uh ...” Unable to speak, I finished my thought with a nod.
“To be a voice-over artist, you need to be able to speak in the Committee’s voices on demand, correct?” said Milton.
“Yes.”
“Betty Jane controls the Committee, correct?”
“Yes,” I said,“she’s the chairman. Or chairwoman, as she likes to call herself.”
“Then I want to speak with her,” said Milton.
“I do not speak to him,” said Betty Jane inside my head.
“She won’t talk to you,” I said.
“Then there is nothing more to discuss.” Milton sat back in his chair. “I recommend you cancel the meeting.”
“Okay,” I said, relieved and awash with guilt over my earlier anger at Ruffles.
“Now, wait just a moment.We are all being too hasty here,” drawled Betty Jane inside my head. “‘Forgive and forget’ is my motto. I have always been happy to speak to Milton. The need just has not arisen until now.”
“You’re telling me there’s been no need to talk to Milton for the past three years?”
“Holly, dear,” said Betty Jane sweetly,“you misunderstand and misjudge. I simply did not want to interfere. Besides, Milton never asks for me.” She sniffed.Talk about rewriting history.
“Well, he did now,” I said. I steeled my body for her takeover. Milton sat observing me. Even though he heard only my side of the conversation, we’d been together long enough for him to understand when a Committee discussion was taking place. He knew I’d convey the particulars to him upon its conclusion.
“Holly,” said Betty Jane, “do I have your permission?”
“Milton,” I said, “she’s changed her mind and she’ll talk to you if she has my permission to take over.” Milton nodded his head.
He’s going Switzerland on this one
, I thought.
He must still feel burned that I let Betty Jane and Ruffles speak without telling him.
My chest ached a bit. I needed Milton on my side and not neutral. This new stance scared me. “Before I do this, though,” I said, “what’s the deal?”
“I want to discuss a new set of rules with Betty Jane. If she and I can agree on these, then we can consider your taking the job.”
“I thought we said cancel? I’m not sure I like this idea.”
“Holly,” said Milton,“I am going to ask you to trust me.” His eyes locked with mine. Milton had not steered me wrong in five
years, but I wasn’t sure that counted, because based on our lack of progress, technically he hadn’t steered me anywhere.“A leap of faith, Holly, that’s all I’m asking for.”
Well, I was no worse off than when I started with Milton. “Okay,” I whispered.
“I want her to speak directly. Please allow her to come forward.”
You may, I thought.Then I closed my eyes and let myself drift backward so that Betty Jane could take over. My body straightened and my legs crossed demurely at the ankle.
“Why, Milton,” came out of my mouth in a breathy Southern drawl.
“Ah, Betty Jane.”
My chin did a dainty drop.
I sat on the Committee’s couch inside my head and fingered the nail file Betty Jane had left while the kind of dread you feel when you realize you’ve just made a bad decision but you’re powerless to take it back spread throughout my body.
“Let’s get straight to the point, shall we?” said Milton.
I heard Ruffles say,“Why did you do that?” through an angry mouthful of chips.
My eyes narrowed. Betty Jane giggled and from my mouth she said,“Because she wanted to.” From my vantage point on the Committee’s couch, I saw Milton’s brow crease. A snicker escaped my lips. “That was for my fat friend in here.” My hand tapped my head. “Certainly not for you, Milton.”
“I understand you want Holly to be a voice-over artist?” said Milton sternly.
“Now, Milton,” came out of my mouth in a silky Southern tone, “I recall a very dull lecture at NYU in which you said that people with dissociative disorders can work and function, hold down jobs, and attend to their daily lives like normal people.Why,
I only remember it because my neighbor left the house without a shower.” My hand smoothed my hair. “The smell overpowered me so that I could not sleep like I normally would during a tedious lecture.” My mouth smiled. I didn’t remember any body odor and wondered why Betty Jane needed an excuse other than the truth for the reason she had listened to that lecture. “Now, if you tell me that I—or, I mean, Holly—is not ready for a real job, then it might be time to start questioning the job you are doing.”
Here we go.
I had to hand it to her, though, because I’d never have the guts to say something like that to Milton, even though the thought had crossed my mind. More than once.
“Betty Jane,” said Milton,“if we are even going to discuss the possibility of Holly pursuing this opportunity, then the first thing we have to agree upon is a new set of rules.”
Inside my head, we all waited for Betty Jane to tell Milton what he could do with his rules.“And what would those be?” she said.
Milton was not surprised by her response. He didn’t miss a beat. “For starters, you and the rest of the Committee will have to limit yourselves to taking over and speaking through Holly only to train as a voice-over artist and in therapy,” said Milton. “Only in these two places. Under no other circumstances may you take over. Do you understand?”
“I do,” Betty Jane said with satisfaction.
“And if she gets the job, this agreement extends to include work. So, you would initially be limited to training and therapy and, if all goes well, ultimately training, work, and therapy.”
The corners of my mouth dropped to an irritated line.
“What about the other voices?” I asked Betty Jane from inside my head.