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.
“A beached whale, a broken-down Vietnam vet with a drug
problem, and a faceless boy?” she said out of my mouth. Milton’s head tilted askance.“Nobody wants to hear from them.And how can a mute be a voice-over artist?” She laughed.
“Holly, if you need my voice, you can have it,” said Ruffles inside my head. “I think that goes for the rest of us.”
“Well, well, look at you, my fat little saint,” said Betty Jane.“You forget that I decide who speaks. Me. Not you. Not them. Me. Nobody will speak unless I deem it so. I am in charge.”
“I can surmise from the words coming out of Holly’s mouth that there is a discussion about the other voices?” said Milton. My head nodded. “Let me be very clear with you, Betty Jane.” My body went taut with anger.“This agreement covers all the voices. Under the new terms, you will not decide if they may speak for training, work, or in therapy—or under any circumstances, for that matter—any longer. If any voice, including the Silent One, is needed, Holly may have it. If she or I request anyone, they may speak.You may continue to rule the Committee, but you will no longer decide who speaks.” Milton’s face was implacable, the tension in the room thick and the silence like fog. “Do you understand me, Betty Jane?” said Milton.
“Yes.” My voice sounded bored. “May I communicate my terms?”
Terms? Ruffles and I cast worried glances at each other.
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