I had to act like I believed him, so that tookactuallybelieving him on some level. It was about a month in that I felt myself slipping more naturally into the latter than the former. It was easy to want to please him, and watching his language and actions made it clear what he wanted from me. He wanted submissive Perrin that worshiped the great Holden Davis; the kid in awe.
So, I gave it to him.
Truth was, I would give him anything if it got me back to Jack. But having to give him that version of myself was incredibly exhausting.
“Oh, I haven’t really celebrated or anything in years,” I said to him when he had asked about the holidays.
“Because of your parents? That’s awful,” he said.
One of the great things about Holden was that his ego was such that he telegraphed what he wanted to hear, all I had to do was listen to it. At this point, I had figured out that he blamed my parents for me being in Europe for five years. He thought they sent me there to protect me from my “mishandling” of the case. I had been cleared, by court order, something I had to remind myself of, but yet, in Holden’s world, that blood was on my hands, and I had let him take the fall.
“Yeah, they sent me over there, but I didn’t really see them,” I said. That part was true, and whenever I could retain a little of the truth, it helped, but it now also started to get hopelessly tangled with everything else.
“You aren’t spending the holidays with friends here?” he asked.
“Oh, I work too much for that,” I said, not missing the look in his eye at the information that I was still the loner he knew. It wasn’t untrue. I was so terrified of Holden stumbling upon Jack, that all I did was I worked and I went home, that was about it.
“Well, what about the guy you were seeing? You told me about him,” he said, sending ice in my veins.
I never talked about Jack. Not ever, I reminded myself. I would catch Holden in that particular lie every time, because I would die before Jack Mann’s name came across my lips to Holden Davis.
“Oh, well, that wasn’t really serious,” I said. “Well, I thought it was, but he, uh, you know,” I shrugged. I knew he would like that part of it.
“That’s okay, babe. Happens,” he laughed, moving closer to me, all the way into my personal space.
“Yeah,” I agreed, trying to move the conversation off of Jack.
“What was his name again?” he asked and I was caught. I would not give him Jack’s name, but if I lied it could undo all I had tried to accomplish, assuming he might know the truth of it. If he had heard about me and Jack from someone in town, then he would know I was faking some of this if I made up a name. So, I did something that had worked a few times before to get me out of a question with him. I stared at his eyes for a moment, dropped my stare to his mouth then back up. And, in doing so sliced off another part of reality.
I could see the interest flare, lust in his eyes, and I looked off, as if I was embarrassed.
“S-sorry,” I said. “Did you ask me . . .” I trailed off, looking down from him.
He laughed a self-satisfied laugh, then put his hand on my knee. I closed my eyes, in what I hope came across as a look of confusion or maybe desire, but certainly was not.
“I, uh, need to go,” I said as awkwardly as I could manage, hoping he read my fumbling as interest, and used the excuse to leave.
That was the last conversation I actually remembered fully. After that, I remember a few things, dim memories that often don’t make sense, or seem like a dream. Iremember the cold, always there, no Jack to make it better. I quit sleeping at any point past two in the morning, and every night I dreamed of Jack, but not the sweet bliss of lover’s dreams. These dreams were dark and left me even colder and damp and afraid.
But, beyond the cold was a third consciousness that emerged. Not the Holden-Perrin Holden wanted me to be, that I had to believe in during work hours, and not the Perrin I actually was, which stayed buried and only pulled out at night to relive Jack memories. This third entity was some sort of overreaching, omniscient narrator watching it all. Watching someone who looked like me try to switch from one to another, tied to keep up, and tried to get the information Bishop needed so I could get back to Jack.
Sometime around then I noticed Jack’s pillow only smelled like him if I shoved my face in it all the way. I had boxed up his things, just in case Holden ever came to my home, but I prayed he would never be there. So, when the pillow smell was gone, it was like the last bit of Jack I could hang onto left. And I sliced off another piece of me, but I still held that pillow every night with my face shoved into it as far as it would go.
A battle started, that I watched from the 30,000 foot view of the narrator. I wanted back with Jack so badly I tried to believe harder, be better in my role, believing it would work. Believing Bishop’s plan. Bishop was the only person who knew Holden better than I thought I did. And, although hearing Bishop’s theory about what Holden was truly doing was terrifying, theonlyway his plan would work was for me to get closer to Holden. And every night, it became harder and harder to pull myself back from that.
The Jack memories started to burn, and almost became unbearable to even have. They lost their earlier comfort. So I became afraid that at some point they would feel wrong, and that would literally shatter me.
I was definitely drinking too much, because I could go to sleep that way. But, I couldn’tstayasleep. So, I quit fighting it, and I watched the 3:00 a.m. battle of who Perrin actually was. And I started to wonder if I really even knew.
It began to snow again with force, and soon I could ski everyday. I might not have been wholly one or the other version of myself on the mountain, but I could definitely fall into that space in-between. But, I hadn’t taken care of myself, and that left me worn out and lethargic, instead of the burst of energy and newness I usually felt after skiing.
For the first time in my life, I was skiing just to survive. And I sliced off another piece of myself.
I was halfway down the mountain on a short run one afternoon, when I knew someone was following me. I stopped, knowing it was Jack. Sure enough, faster than anyone else could get there he wasdown the mountainfrom me, planted in my way, making me pull up short. Within touching distance, but not touching.
I had to grip the poles not to reach for him, and I kept my goggles on. If I saw him open like that, with no barriers between us, I would lose my shit. I eyed the rest of the mountain before Jack could say anything.
“I’ll fucking chase you, Perrin. You know I’m faster than you,” there was an angry edge to his voice, and concern. My heart couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t handle him. If you had told me a year ago I could be torn down so easily, I would assume you knew nothing about my life. But, here I was. I couldn’t get past the fact that he chased after me, found me. No one had ever come after me before. My heart lurched, reminding me that it wasat capacity to what it was going to be able to handle. Just looking at him was enough to slowly start ripping my heart out.
