If I make a trip out to the rocks where I found her, and her backpack is still buried in the snow by the side of the road, I might find some identification in it. Perhaps that would give me some kind of clue, but I’m not sure it would be enough.
The whole idea is insane, but little bits and pieces of strange, seemingly out-of-character behavior start falling into place. When she first woke up in the cabin, she was calm and serene. She called herself Netti and was emotionless and detached, just as she had been when she recited the story about her sister’s death. That was Netti.
The night she pulled the knife on me and every time she’s jumped me, shoved me on the bed, and fucked the daylights out of me—that was Iris.
And Seri…who was she? The woman in between who sometimes babbled nervously, played with Solo, and learned to cook on a fire and make coffee so she didn’t feel like she was imposing too much. Seri was the woman who held me when I lost my shit over my father.
More than one person lives inside of her.
I’m not much of a movie buff, but I’ve seen that old Hitchcock film with the crazy dude who killed people in his hotel. Didn’t he have multiple personalities? Am I actually in danger here? Nothing Seri or Netti or Iris has done has made me feel afraid, so maybe that’s just the sort of thing that’s only in the movies.
What has to happen to a person to have their soul split in half—or thirds? Are there more? Does Seri know about Netti and Iris? I remember something Seri said to me the second night she was in my cabin. Only now I don’t think it was Seri at all.
“She felt it you know. All cuddled up to keep warm. She felt it against her ass.”
If that had been Iris talking, Iris may know about Seri, but that doesn’t mean Seri knows about Iris. And Netti…how does Netti fit into all of this?
I rub my face with my hands, digging my fingers into my eye sockets, trying to sort all of this out and failing miserably. I’m just going in circles, and I have no idea how to comprehend what’s going on.
Like the mystery novels I read, I have a pile of clues and no idea how they fit into the bigger picture. I remember taking notes when I was reading an Agatha Christie novel. I came pretty close to figuring it out at the end because I made a timeline of the events in the story. Maybe that would help me now.
“Bishop?” The woman lying next to me turns her head and slowly opens her eyes. “Are you all right?”
“Me? I’m fine.” I’m not—I’m far from fine—but I’m doing better than she is, whoever she may be at the moment. “How about you?”
“Tired,” she mumbles. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“Got a lot on my mind, I guess.”
She blinks a few times before rolling over toward me.
“Anything I can do?”
Yeah, you can tell me who you really are. You can tell me what your name is right now. You can tell me how in the hell I’m supposed to cope with all of this.
“No. I’m fine. Really.”
“You look worried.” She reaches up and places her hand gently against the side of my face. “Is there another storm coming?”
I should be asking her the same question. Iris feels a bit like a storm—unpredictable and frightening. But I’m pretty sure I’m not talking to Iris right now. I think it’s Seri, but how do I know?
“Seri,” I say quietly.
“Yes?”
Well, that answers that. I take a deep breath.
“Do you remember going to bed?”
“Do I remember…?” She shakes her head at me, eyes narrowing as she takes her hand from my face. “That’s an odd question.”
“Do you?”
“Not really. I think I just kind of passed out after dinner. This weather seems to make me tired. Why do you ask?”
I’ve heard it said that waking a sleepwalker is a dangerous thing to do. I don’t know if that’s true, or even applicable in this case, but I fear I’m venturing into dangerous territory.
“No reason.” I slide down and place my head on the pillow. “Go back to sleep. I’m fine.”
Seri rolls back over. As she does, she reaches behind herself and takes hold of my hand, bringing my arm around her waist as she settles back down with a deep sigh. I don’t think she’s even noticed that we’re both naked.
It’s clear that Seri knows nothing about the others. How would Seri react if I ask her more about Iris? Something about her sister’s story doesn’t quite match up, and I don’t know what to think of it. Was her sister even a real person or someone she made up to account for the person living inside of her? If I don’t confront Seri with what I’ve come to understand, how will I ever know for sure?
Too many questions and not enough answers. I’m exhausted, and that isn’t good for logical thought. I snuggle against Seri’s warmth and take a few deep breaths as I close my eyes.
As I start to drift, Seri shifts in her sleep. She pushes my hand away from her and slowly gets out of the bed. I watch as she gathers her underwear and shirt in shuffling, zombie-like steps, and then dresses herself before climbing back into bed. She presses her back against my chest and reaches for my hand again.
“Seri?” When I get no response, I try again. “Netti?”
“Hmm?”
“What are you doing?”
The woman beside me is silent. I raise myself up enough to look at her face and find that her eyes are closed. She’s breathing easily and steadily, undoubtedly asleep.
Remembering what happened the last time, I slip myself out of bed and pull my shorts back on before crawling back in beside her, wrapping my arm around her, and closing my eyes again. I swallow past a lump in my throat and wonder how the hell I’m supposed to deal with this.
In the morning, I wake sooner than the woman in the bed. Solo immediately jumps up on my lap and demands food, so I get up to feed him. After he’s eaten, I build up the fire. The woman in my bed—whatever her name is—wakes shortly after.
“Good morning!” She sits up in bed, yawns and stretches.
“Morning.” I watch her out of the corner of my eye as Solo paws at her feet until she picks him up. She cuddles him briefly before placing him on the bed and excusing herself to the bathroom. Solo scratches at the door until she comes back out.
“Silly thing!” She laughs and picks him up, rubbing her cheek against his head. She walks back to the bed and sits on the edge, still cooing at the cat.
“Seri?” I watch closely, hoping my guessing skills are up to par.
“Yeah?”
“Uh…do you want to finish off the eggs for breakfast?” It’s the only question I can think of off the top of my head. I really just want to confirm who she is at the moment.
“Sure! Shall I cook?”
“If you want.”
“I do! I saw some red peppers. Is it okay to use those in the eggs?”
“Of course. Use whatever you like.”
Seri cooks while I rearrange firewood. I’m getting low on the dry stuff inside, which means I need to make a trip outside to bring in snow-covered wood today so it has a chance to dry out a bit before I have to use it. I relay this information to Seri.
“How far away is the barn?” she asks.
“It’s only a few hundred feet. It just takes a little time to get the wood on the sled and haul it back up here.”
“Could I help?”
“I suppose so,” I say. “I don’t have an extra pair of snowshoes though. I’d give you mine, but you’re lighter and less likely to drop into a snow bank. If you do, I can haul you back out. If I fall in, I’m more likely to get stuck.”
“I might not be able to get you out,” she says with a nod. “I could use a shovel maybe, but it’s probably best you keep the snowshoes.”
“We’ll wait until afternoon when it’s warmest, and I’ll go outside first to see how stable the drifts are.”
“Sounds good.”
The morning passes quickly. I haven’t seen any signs of Iris or Netti all day, and I
’ve been watching closely. I listen for cursing or emotionless recounting, but I hear neither. During the day, it’s all Seri.
Is Iris a vampire, only coming out at night?
I shake my head to clear the ridiculous thought. The actual situation includes more than enough insanity, and I don’t need to add any more to it. What I do need is more information about Seri’s sister so I can try to determine if she is or was a real person. As Seri sits down beside me by the fire, I decide on a somewhat straightforward approach.
“Can you tell me more about your family?” I ask. If I pose more questions about her sister, maybe I would be able to figure some of this out. “You didn’t talk about your parents much.”
“Not a lot to say,” Seri replies. “They were good to us. They made sure we were taken care of and went to school and all that.”
“So why did your sister act out so much?”
“I don’t know. Just the kind of person she is…was. She just balked at authority. She wasn’t a bad person, simply wanted to live her life her way. Sometimes that ended up in an argument with Dad, but it was never malicious or anything. Normal teenage rebellion.”
“I can’t even imagine not doing what my parents told me to do.”
“Because you’d be punished?”
“Yeah.” I hadn’t meant to bring the attention back to myself.
“Did you ever tell anyone what he was doing?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It didn’t really occur to me, I guess.”
“You thought it was normal.”
“Yeah.”
“When did you figure out that it wasn’t?”
“Sixth grade, I think.” I lick my lips and dig into the back of my brain for the memory. “I was in the library at school. I think it was one of those days that we were supposed to pick out any book we wanted to read and just spend our time reading it. I found a book about child abuse.”
“Wow. Did you read it?”
“Some of it, yeah. At first, it didn’t really register, but eventually it did. There was this page in the back with phone numbers you could call, but I wasn’t going to chance doing something like that. There were a lot of references in that book about kids telling their teachers but no one believing them or doing anything about it. Some of those cases were mild compared to what I’d seen my father do, and I figured no one would ever believe me if I told them. If I snitched, and he caught me, he’d kill me.”
“I’m sorry, Bishop.” Seri reaches over and places her hand on my leg.
“Sorry about what?”
“That you grew up that way. No one should have to live like that.”
Again, I seem to have completely derailed myself. I want to talk about Seri’s sister, not myself.
“What did you sister look like?” I ask.
“A lot like me,” Seri says with a laugh. “Some people thought we were twins. Not identical or anything, but the same age. I was the tall one in the family, so I never looked like a ‘little’ sister. Her hair was a little darker than mine, and I have more freckles. Our eyes are the same though—just like Mom’s. Green eyes are the rarest color, but they say it’s still a dominant genetic trait over blue eyes. Isn’t that weird?”
“I never really thought about it.” This information isn’t getting me anywhere. “So, what did you and your sister like to do together?”
“I dunno,” Seri mutters. “Girl stuff? We talked about boys and clothes and hair. Oh! She did dye my hair once. That was a disaster!” She laughs. “She really wanted to dye her own hair but conned me into doing it first. It was supposed to be purple, and it was supposed to wash right out, but it didn’t. It only faded. I ended up with pink hair for months. It was not a good look on me!”
I shake my head, and she laughs again. We go quiet for a minute as Seri looks at me.
“How often do you get your hair cut?” Seri suddenly asks.
“I don’t know.” I glance at her sideways. “Why?”
“Just curious. You seem like a short hair kind of guy, but if you’re here all winter by yourself, what do you do when your hair gets long?”
“Nothing.” I run my hand over my hair self-consciously. “It usually doesn’t get too unruly, and I’ll go into Whatì in the spring to get it cut. I had it cut short about a month ago.”
“Who cuts it?”
“One of Margot’s friends.” I tense a little, not really wanting to bring up the name of the last girlfriend to the woman I slept with last night. Then again, I’m not talking to Iris right now.
This is just fucking confusing.
“Does she have a salon in town?”
“No, Amanda is a nurse at the clinic, but she cuts hair out of her house for people who need it. Friends and family, mostly.”
“I suppose in a small community, a lot of people have double-duty.”
“True. Most have a summer job and a winter job, but there are a lot of people with more consistent jobs as well, like Amanda.”
“You said Margot has a fishing lodge. Does she do that all year?”
“She doesn’t own it, but she manages the place. In the winter, she focuses on getting equipment repaired if it needs it, mending nets, and keeping up the lodge in general. A lot of the people who work for her have other jobs in the winter.”
Again, we’ve gotten off track, and I try to think of a way to steer the conversation back to her sister again, but I fail. I’m not used to having such extensive conversations with people, and I don’t know what kind of questions to ask.
“I was thinking about taking a bath,” Seri says, “but maybe I should wait until after we get wood. Do you think the weather is good enough for that?”
“I think we’re low enough that it might have to be.” I get up and look out the window. The sun is shining through thin clouds. “It should be okay.”
“Shall we, then?”
“Yeah.”
It occurs to me that I just said “we” were running low on wood, not “I.” When did I start thinking about her in that way? I’ve always been a very solitary thinker, and probably a little on the selfish side because of it. I never thought of Margot and me as “we,” and we were officially a couple. What is Seri to me, and what am I to her?
What am I to the others?
I’ve grown used to Seri’s presence here. I’ve even started to enjoy it. I’m not sure how I feel about the other two. Netti is somewhat unsettling, and Iris is kind of frightening. I’m pretty sure when I said “we” that I meant just Seri and me, but where does that leave the other two?
How am I supposed to keep it all separated in my head? As I gather up my outdoor gear, I try to sort out my relationship with each of the three and come up with the simplest description that I can.
Seri is the woman who lives with me. Netti is the woman who only appears when the situation is too intense for Seri to handle, and Iris…Iris is the woman who fucks me.
I stare at the solitary figure by the fire, feeling completely outnumbered.
Chapter 15
“It feels good to be outside!” Seri smiles broadly from inside her fur-lined hood. I can barely see her eyes behind the goggles.
“It is a lot warmer than I thought it would be.” I smirk. “I’m just glad I didn’t throw out my old parka. Once you’ve been outside for a few minutes, you’ll appreciate the cabin more.”
“I’m sure that’s true,” she says as she looks around. “Right now, I’m enjoying the view from out here.”
“Just watch your step,” I tell her. “The top of the snow is pretty crunchy, and you should be able to avoid falling through it as long as you walk slowly, but you never know. The snow drifts a lot, and you can’t tell from the surface just how deep it is. You could be on top of six feet of snow or just a couple of inches with ice underneath.”
“Step carefully. Got it.”
I lead Seri back to the barn, walking slowly and purposefully. It’s bright outside, and I squint my eyes against
the whiteness. I only have the one pair of goggles and figured Seri needed them more than I did. I look over my shoulder to check on her progress, and she’s smiling and looking up towards the bright sky. When we get to the barn, I notice that the sunny side of the roof has a long row of icicles. Below each icicle is a pile of wet ice.
“It’s a lot warmer than I thought.” I point at the dripping icicles.
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“Yes and no.”
“What do you mean?”
“The melt can actually be just as dangerous as the cold,” I say. “A lot of the land around here is marsh, and it freezes and thaws quickly since it’s not very deep. Great for the birds looking for water, but it can be hazardous to people walking over it. Like I said, you can go from solid ground to snow-covered marsh and not even know it. If the ice breaks and you fall in, you’re going to get very cold very quickly.”
“How far away are the marshes?”
“Small ones are all over, really. There’s a big one east of the cabin.”
“So, keep stepping carefully.”
“Yes.”
I head into the barn and haul the sled over to the woodpile, which is completely covered in snow. After brushing loose snow from the top of the pile, I go back into the barn and get a large bucket of bluish rocks and haul it outside. I start tossing the crumbled minerals over the woodpile.
“What is that?” Seri asks.
“Copper sulfide,” I say. “It’ll melt the snow about as fast as hot water does, and I can use a little bit I bought in Yellowknife to grow crystals.”
“That’s cool!” Seri smiles as the blue crystals start melting a bunch of the snow on top of the pile, revealing the wood beneath.
As I start grabbing logs from the top, Seri comes over to help. She pulls a few small logs off the pile, but the larger ones are covered in ice and stuck to each other. I kick at the pile a few times, loosening some, and Seri loads them onto the sled carefully.
When the sled is half full, I find a whole new layer of ice on the woodpile. It’s thick, and the wood is really stuck. Seri tugs at a piece of wood, but she’s getting nowhere. It’s too frozen, and she doesn’t have the strength.
“I’ve got an ice shovel in the barn,” I tell her. “Let me go grab it, and maybe that will help you loosen some more pieces.”