Read Online Web of Angels by Lilian Nattel - Free Book Online Page A

Brigitte picked up her pen and clipboard to make notes.
    “Different how?”
    “A sudden change in mood that seemed to come from nowhere. Or doing something that struck you as out of character?”
    “Isn’t that a woman’s prerogative?”
    Brigitte didn’t laugh. She just waited, letting the silence do its work.
    “Sometimes,” Dan said, “especially before we had kids, she’d get scared at night. Like a little kid, you know, making those noises. I didn’t mind. I’d pat her back until she went to sleep. Was that wrong?”
    Brigitte smiled at him. “That was right. Patting her back is such a small thing and yet so significant because you showed her a gentleness she had never known.” She had a warm smile, like an apple doll or a kitchen witch. Callisto watched the smile, wondering how the muscles of the face would feel around such an expression.
    “Okay then.” Dan leaned back, relieved.
    His relief was somewhat premature in Callisto’s estimation. People often reacted quickly to the word or gesture of a moment, without considering that something else might follow that could cast a rather different light on it.
    “You know that she was abused.”
    “Yes,” he said. “Her father molested her and her mother was critical.” Sharon had told him the same thing she’d told Eleanor, just that much—a piece of the truth. It explained the nightmares and the flinching when she and Dan first made love. It was enough to stop them from visiting her family; enough to keep their children safe.
    “When a child experiences excessive trauma,” Brigitte continued, “the mind can split into pieces and each part becomes a separate person. Imagine it as if these people were locked in different rooms. On the outside at least Sharon could grow up and learn normal functioning. But those others are still there, suffering, reliving the trauma over and over because they don’t know any different life exists. They don’t even realize it’spossible. What used to be called multiple personalities is now referred to as dissociative identity disorder, also sometimes as DDNOS, dissociative disorder not otherwise specified. We don’t need to bother about the technical differences.”
    “But she has post-partum depression. She had it after Josh was born, too.” He turned to his wife. “Hon, maybe you should see your doctor for a prescription.”
    Callisto looked away, her hands clasped in her lap. It was as she’d thought—he’d never understand.
    “People like your wife are often misdiagnosed,” Brigitte explained patiently. “You see a depressed new mom, and you assume PPD. But in your wife’s case, hormones weren’t the cause. She has DID, though I don’t like the term ‘disorder.’ It would be more accurate to say that it’s an adaptation to early childhood trauma.”
    They could hear the therapist’s cat howling like a beagle upstairs. Brigitte had said that when he made this sound he was lonely. Dan looked around, willing to be distracted by a cat leaping into his lap, but it was locked out and there was nothing for his hands to do but intertwine over a knee. He glanced over at his wife’s expressionless face. “What kind of trauma?” he asked.
    It was up to Callisto to reveal now the extent and nature of what they’d hidden from him—she was the only one who could say the words. As she spoke, her voice slightly hoarse as it always was, the others inside waited for Dan to see that they were tainted, disgusting, repellent and loathsome.
    “That happened to you?” He looked from his wife to the therapist, who was nodding.
    “Unfortunately it isn’t as rare as people think. I’ve had a number of DID clients over the years. Many of them experienced this.”
    “Good God.” His foot jiggled more, hands clenched over his knee, jawline hardening.
    “You sound angry,” Brigitte said.
    “Of course I’m angry!”
    Callisto held back the lils from bursting out.
Don’t be mad. I’ll be good. Promise.