29. The Lie
Jenkins, you’re going to pay for this if it’s the last thing I do, Callie thought over and over as she sat slumped in the metal chair.
A rectangle table sat in front of her, and she brought her knees up to her chest, pushing against the table to knock herself backwards. Neither budged. She looked down and saw that the legs of the table and chair were anchored to the ground.
The room was similar to where she slept each night.
This was the second room she had seen since she arrived.
All her meals were served to her through a flap in the door.
A toilet, sink, and shower were all that resided in her room.
The walls were lined with square pads, and the lights above her kept flickering randomly.
In front of her was a camcorder on a tripod. Behind that was a darkened reflective mirror. She recognized it from cop movies. Someone on the other side was observing her. Her back instinctively straightened, preparing to put on the performance needed to get out of here.
Her thoughts were desperate as she waited. I need to switch with someone. I need to convince someone to want to be me. Who is going to want to switch with someone incarcerated or, worse yet, in a psychiatric hospital? I need a new plan quickly!
“I just need to be my same charming self,” she whispered. “I’ll be out of here in no time.”
Suddenly, the light behind the window flicked on, and she could see a brunette woman facing her. She smiled, and the woman on the other side of the glass stared back at her, mimicking her smile.
The woman’s long, wavy brown hair cascaded around her face and sat perfectly against her white shirt. She tilted her head to greet the woman, and the woman mirrored the head tilt back to her.
“Wait. Is that my reflection?” She recognized the tired and sunken eyes, but her hair was completely different than when she arrived. “What did they do to my hair?”
I chopped it all off to prevent Sam from grabbing my hair, she remembered, her hand instinctively reached up as the confines of the white straight jacket pinned her wrapped arms around her waist.
I’m not sure why this is even needed. I’m not the real enemy. Jenkins is. She pulled against the fabric harder.
The door to the room opened, and she turned to look at a smartly-dressed woman who entered.
She was wearing a white button-up shirt under a gray vest with a matching gray pencil skirt.
Her curly blond hair was short to her ears, and it bounced with each step.
The woman crossed the room to the video recorder and pushed a button.
The once-flashing red light disappeared.
Odd. All of the conversations I’ve had in this room were recorded. Who is this person?
“Hi, Mary. My name is Sue. How are you today?” The woman straightened the manilla folder that lay on the table.
Callie shifted in the metal chair, which was stabilized with bolts into the ground.
“I see that question has made you uncomfortable. Why is that?” Sue smiled sweetly as she asked the question.
“My name’s not Mary.”
“Hmmm. That’s very interesting, because in my file, it clearly says your name is Mary,” Sue replied before writing something on her notepad.
“Look, I don’t know who Mary is. I just want to get back to my life.” Callie squared her body to show a sign of power and control.
“Who even are you?” I know I should be trying to charm this person, to trick her into switching with me, but there is something about her I don’t trust. She narrowed her eyes at the young woman sitting across from her.
“I am your psychiatrist, Sue. We have been meeting twice a week since your arrival when you were sixteen years old.”
Callie shook her head. “No, you’re wrong. I arrived just last week. I’m an actress. I need to get out of here and back to L.A. This is all just a misunderstanding.”
First, they changed my hair, and now they are telling me I have been here longer than a week? Since I was sixteen? No, I know I’m not crazy.
“Okay, Mary. Walk me through it. Who are you supposed to be right now?”
“Well,” she huffed, “I’m Pamela Shaw and I’m a world class actress. I accidentally switched bodies with this person.” She raised her shoulders trying to wave her arms over her body, but her arms remained tied to her sides. “Can I please get out of this?”
“No. But please continue.” Sue flipped some pages in the file to reveal some medical paperwork on one side and blank, lined paper on the other.
“Fine. I have this ability to switch bodies with people. I was born in 1841 as Jane. I was able to switch bodies with people to exist until now. I was tricked by my ex-son to switch bodies.” Callie’s chest tightened as she regarded Jenkins as her ex-son.
I need to be careful with telling lies; they add a layer of complication, and I need this woman to trust me. I’m the victim here. I just need to remember that. Who am I kidding? The police brought me here for a reason.
Sue finished scribbling and looked up at Callie. The width of the table prevented her from reading what Sue was writing. After a few moments of silence, Sue finally put her pen down. There is something familiar about Sue—like I’ve met her before.
Sue flipped up one of the pages and dragged her finger across the page until she found what she was looking for.
“Well, you were Pamela, and before that you were Darla, and then a man named Richard, which we all found quite strange. Then before him, you were a woman named Ellen, Theresa, Abigail, Jane, and then Mary.” Sue clasped her hands together, her tone serious as she waited expectantly for Callie to respond.
“STOP!” Callie screamed out with guttural desperation. Sue jumped and let go of the pages she was holding up.
Callie’s breathing came hard and her lungs pushed against the white jacket. It felt like the material was clawing at her throat. It threatened to strangle her. Each face hijacked her field of vision and guilt coursed through her.
No, this was a gift given to me. I can’t look at the past. I just need to look to the future. She closed her eyes and started rocking back and forth.
“I have never met you before this day. I came here last week, because I switched bodies with a diabolical person who stole my life. I tried to get back to my body and my life, and she refused me.” Callie stood from her chair and paced.
“It worked so many times before,” Callie whispered to herself as she crossed between the two corners of the room. She turned to tell Sue off, but was met with an expression full of amusement.
Is she mocking me? she thought, as guilt was replaced with rage. She stormed over and leaned across the table, bringing her face close to Sue’s.
“I don’t know how you have all those names, and I’m completely freaking out right now. And you are going to sit there and mock me? Because I think you’re the crazy one. How do you even know those names?” Her voice filled the space between their faces.
“But you aren’t denying you know all these names.”
“Of course I know them. I told you I have been around since 1841 and have switched with a lot of people.”
“But they each meant something to you, right Mary?” Sue leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, her chin against her fingers.
“No,” Callie started through gritted teeth, “but I had to learn about them, because I was them.” Callie stared at Sue; she hated how this beautiful, well-dressed woman held so much power over her. Sue had the upper hand, and they both knew it.
“My name is Pamela, not Mary,” she said with as much venom as she could spit out. Sue just responded with a half-smile, leaning back in her chair, ready to take on any abuse Callie would dish out.
“It’s Pamela, not Callie? Are you having a hard time keeping up with whose body you are in?”
Callie tried to harness the power inside of her.
Hearing Theresa’s name reminded her of that night on the train when she could visualize the power extending from her body and wanted badly to mimic it.
It originated from jealousy, and she tried hard to be jealous of Sue, but all she felt was disgust and resentment.
Then she thought of Richard and how she had the same feelings toward him to summon her tether. Focusing hard, she tried again to pull the mystical hand from inside her.
It isn’t enough. I need her to want to be me. Why have you failed me? Why now? Oh, how I wish it could be the same as it was in the beginning! She rocked her head back and forth in the corner where the walls met.
“Why isn’t it working?” Callie whispered to herself.
“Half-Life.” Sue leaned forward, flipping all the way to the back of the folder.
“What is that?” Callie, intrigued by the sudden shift in conversation, relaxed her posture slightly. Sue motioned for her to come rejoin her at the table to continue the conversation.
Callie obliged, mainly because having her arms in the jacket was not comfortable while standing. She shuffled her feet across the tile and sat back in the metal chair.
“Half-life explains how much time passes before a radioactive isotope falls to half its original value,” Sue began, excited to finally have this conversation.
“Okay, and what does that have to do with me?” Callie wanted to smash Sue’s beautiful face through the window just to end the mocking.
“You really don’t remember, do you?” Callie’s hair stood up on her body.
Something inside of her screamed out in terror, way down in her cells.
She could feel it all now: the tension, the awareness.
Sue hadn’t flinched when she had admitted her darkest secret, and for the first time since Sue entered the room, Callie sensed the very real chance that she was in danger.
“Remember what, eighth grade biology?” She tried to sound like she was calm and collected, but her voice strained and threatened to expose her. Sue’s expression, a mix of exhaustion and irritation, just gave a curt nod and an equally curt, “No. Nothing like that.”
Sue stood, now to be the one to walk behind Callie, her reflection very clear on the window in front of her. Callie was now thankful they were being watched and recorded.
Recorded. Callie remembered that Sue had turned off the camera. None of this was going on the record. No one was behind that glass window. She shifted again in her seat.
I’m all alone with this crazy person.
“Okay, fine. You’ve only been here a week. I was lying before. So, now I can tell you the truth.”
Sue’s hands rested heavily on Callie’s shoulders, causing Callie to jump slightly, as Sue leaned down to whisper in her ear.
“We’ve met before. Back in 1804.” Sue’s mouth was so close, the air escaping felt especially hot against Callie’s ear. Sue stood back up, allowing her words to fully sink in.
“Impossible. I was born in 1841.” Callie violently shook her head back and forth. None of this made any sense: the names, the dates. I was born Jane. It’s that simple.
“Yes, Jane was born in 1841, and you were Jane,” Sue replied curtly. “You really don’t remember?” Sue came back around to face Callie. “Nothing about me and our conversation?” Callie shook her head in response.
“Wow, okay.” Sue sat back in the chair opposite her. “Let me guess. You just thought you were born with this special gift?” Sue overemphasized the word special in air quotes.
Callie bore her stare into Sue’s; embarrassment flooded her body. “Of course, I thought I was born with it. That was all I ever knew.”
Sue dropped her arm on the table in astonishment. “Well, I owe Nick five bucks now,” she said, more to herself than to Callie.
Callie’s clenched jaw ached.
“Let me tell you the full story, and then you can finally understand how you ended up in this mess and what is going to happen next.” Sue sat back, as though she was settling in to hear a story and not be the one to tell it. “I’m going to tell you the whole truth about who you really are.”