The old pick up trundled, rattled and bucked down the pitted country road. With each pothole, each jarring dip, her anxiety mounted. She had been feeling incomplete since she awoke this morning; the reason why, she didn't want to consider at the moment. Plus, something about this trip to Ms. Ida's house had her on edge. The exhilaration from the actual separation from the part of her- the responsible, boring, predictable and weak part-began fading early in the morning. By the time she climbed into to truck next to Kiara, the feeling of being incomplete began worming its way under her skin, putting her on edge.
Whack! Her head hit the roof of the truck as Kiara drove into a deep pothole.
"Damn it! Kiara. Watch the potholes! My head hurts."
"Awwww, I'm so sorry, Sissy!" Kiara spat.
Rihanna rubbed her head and looked out the windshield. The truck was chugging its way up a small incline. As it neared the top, Rihanna got her first glimpse of the house. As described by Kiara's, Ms. Ida's house was an old, giant, Victorian, ginger-bready type home in dire need of a paint job. The oak trees towered above the house, keeping it shaded pretty much all day and the bushes surrounding the house were huge, as if they were attempting to completely overtake the home. It all seemed very ordinary for an old house lived in by an old lady, except for a trace of black fog drifting low on the weed strewn grass of the lawn.
Rihanna shivered. For a brief moment, her anxiety level dropped and she felt euphoric. She wanted to leap out of the truck, plop down into the fog and roll around and around and around. But just as suddenly, the anxiety returned and she felt a little out of whack, like something wasn't right.
"Maybe Meanie Me is starting to realize that she can't thrive without all her parts." I thought. As I watched myself throughout the truck ride, I couldn't help but think about the welfare of my family should this Rihanna return home, or if she would even consider returning home. I could not fathom even Meanie Me purposefully hurting the children. More likely, she would disappear, abandoning the kids and Rico. I couldn't allow that to happen.
I wondered about her strange reaction when she noticed the fog. She had been radiating tension since we left Kiara's place, but once she caught sight of the fog, she seemed more relaxed. Kiara, though, who had been quiet during the trip, concentrating on hitting every pothole on the road, clenched the steering wheel and began to breathe deeply as if to keep herself under control. Two opposite reactions.
The fog drifted across the yard, but stopped short of the porch steps. I noticed that as we made our way up the driveway the fog would roll and pitch its way toward the porch, but would then flip backward as if repelled by some force. A black, slow moving wave that never ceased in its effort conquer the porch steps and ultimately, I thought, Ms. Ida's house.
The ebb and flow of the fog lulled me into a state of relaxation. Or at least that's how I felt, relaxed. I wasn't sure if a disembodied spirit could actually be relaxed. I started to think about my reaction to this whole episode. I didn't panic when the split first occurred. Neither did I feel defeated. I knew myself well enough to know that I had a "dark" side, but I knew on an instinctual level that my darker side was not evil. So what caused me to split into two separate parts?
I had been wallowing in a semi state of self pity for the last few months. The kids were older and didn't need me like they used too and Rico and I had adopted our roles as parents, forgetting that we used to revel in each other's touches. I felt sad, lonely and useless. I had become distracted by selfishness. Instead of delighting in the accomplishments of my children or the small things Rico would do for me, like bring me coffee in bed each morning, I focused on the realization that I was growing old and my way of life was going to change in a few short years.
I had let the devil into my thoughts and couldn't muster the strength to kick him out. Maybe that was the opening he needed to to lure my darker, supposedly more fun side, out. I had lost sight of God and forgotten my favorite verse, "Trust in the Lord with all of your heart, lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight."
I felt I was onto something, even though I still wasn't sure how the dark visitor fit into the whole scheme. At that moment, I was jerked out of my reverie when Rihanna gasped. Ms. Ida had just walked out onto her porch. She was a small, thin woman. She seemed very prim the way she stood, back straight, and hands clasped in front of her, hair pulled into a tight neat bun. Her eyes were vibrant, as green as you might imagine a field in Ireland might be after a spring rain. Her expression, though, could quell Ironman, Superman, Batman or any other man who might think to cross her wishes.
"Kiara!' she yelled. "My yard looks like hell and I want to know what you are going to do about it!"
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