A million years ago, I wrote this chick litstory about a girl with a built-in alter ego. This is the first and shortest chapter.
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“Poor people give me hives,” Vidi said as she scratched at her neck. Or maybe it was me who said it, or maybe it was my neck she scratched. I can never tell these days.
I was named after my father’s friend who was a nun– Sister Mary Elizabeth Rose. Everyone called me Rosie. She was named after my mother’s friend who was a witch– Lavitia Lex– and I called her Vidi.
In my youth, Vidi was a whole separate person. Sure, when we looked in the mirror we stared back at the same face through the same eyes– but that’s where the similarities ended.
While I practiced my schoolwork at my mother’s encouragement, Vidi thought of the best ways to spend a million dollars.
While I took a bath, Vidi thought about what people looked like inside out.
While I said my prayers to God, Vidi questioned his very existence.
I was accustomed to her and had always known better than to mention her presence to anyone else.
People struggled enough with everyday life. If I told them there were two souls in one body, they would choke to death on their own worry, skepticism, and confusion. I didn’t have time to do the Heimlich Maneuver all day.
I grew up, and Vidi grew with me.
I was poised and lady-like, and she was dark and dirty. Every once in a while, I would meet someone who seemed to see her the way I saw her. They’d peer at me very intently, as if wishing to comment on the secondary presence. No one ever mentioned it, but still I hold my breath whenever I get one of those looks. I don’t know what would happen if I was found out. Maybe I’d explain, maybe I wouldn’t.
I’m not as bad as Vidi, but there’s a little bit of unpredictability in me.
Today, we were at Nordstrom Rack.
Earlier that day, I tried Nordstrom first, asking about two red coats on page 16 of their January catalog. It was August now and a very petite, well-painted girl informed me that if I really wanted something so terribly out of fashion that I’d have to go to the Rack.
“If she’s worried about being trendy, she should drop the hooker look.” Vidi lashed. “That went out with Madonna.”
I forced a smile for the girl, noticed the name on her tag and thanked her. “Thanks, Candy. I’m very grateful for your help.”
I could sense that Vidi was in a difficult mood.
Normally I had full control over our body, so long as I let Vidi roam free in our mind. It was a relationship that suited us both, but it was hard at times. If she was being especially catty, my mind automatically shut her out and she would fight back by taking over my body.
I’d lost count of the awful things Vidi said or did.
It was the shoe aisle at Nordstrom Rack that riled her again. People were pacing in the small aisles and taking up more space than was needed to review shoes. Someone had let their child loose and he was trying his best to balance shoes on his head.
I tried not to sneeze as I moved past him, but an older woman wearing a strong perfume kept me trapped in an awkward position just long enough for my senses to reel from the lack of air and the scent of artificial flowers.
Sure enough, I was getting hives. But I disagreed with Vidi. I was not allergic to poverty.
She was getting worse every day, ever since I met Nick last month. For just a handful of dates, it had become pretty serious and I knew I was going to marry him. Vidi was not so ready to settle down.
It hadn’t been spoken between us yet, but the tension was palatable. There was a struggle for existence happening and one of us was bound to be disappointed.
I didn’t find either red coat or consolation shoes, so I decided it was time to go home. Vidi sighed with disappointment. “It’s too bad,” she said. “That really hot guy would have liked a red coat.”
“Yes,” I replied, deliberately misunderstanding her, “I’m sure Nick would have thought it was lovely.”
She scoffed and I ignored her. Her angst needed to be resolved, but I didn’t have the energy for it at the moment. There were too many things I had to do.
I sighed, knowing how difficult it was going to be to accomplish anything while ignoring my own brain.
Vidi laughed at me and with a desperate sense of resolution, I slipped into the car and blasted the radio on a country radio station as I took off towards Nick’s house.
And Vidi, blessedly, said nothing at all.
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- Something Unspoken – The Alter Ego
- Cognitive Reflection – The Alter Ego
- Of Mind or Matter -The Ego is Nothing if not Consistent
- Sue’s Trifles – Alter Ego
- Mama Bear Musings – The Alter Ego
- Hyperlocal Hero – #78
- Ramblings and other Nonsence – Alter Ego
- Serendipity – The Alter Ego
- One Starving Activist – Other Self
- TheMatticusKingdom – When I was Young
- Julie Chicklitasaurus – Alter Ego
- Repressed Expressions – Life on the(Bi)Polar Express
- AP Robert’s Stories - Mirrors
- Hyperlocal Hero – #79
- This Typing Makes Me Look Busy … – My Side Effect of Blogging
- Journey Called Life… – Yes, that’s me, too!
- Fairy Spell – Second Self
- Heart and a Half – My alter-egos
- A Sign of Life – Turtles and the Alter Ego
- Indira – The Alter Ego
- StuphBlog – When Blunt Life Coach and TwinDaddy Collide
- Breathing Space – Will the Real Me Please Stand Up
- Peace, Wisdom, and Prosperity – Me, Myself, & I
- My thought exactly…! – My Alter Ego?
- Apprentice, Never Master – Disguises and Self-Portraits
- Chasing Rabbit Holes – The Tiger Roars
- … and you?
