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He grabbed two wine glasses and set them on the island. Opening the bottle of wine, he poured some into each glass and handed it to me.
“Can I help you with anything?” I asked.
“Nope. Everything is just about ready. Do you cook?”
“I don’t, but Ophelia does. She’s like a gourmet chef.”
“Really?” He smiled.
“Yeah. She can cook and bake just about anything.”
“We’ll have to introduce her to Sebastian.” He winked.
After Grayson plated our food, we took a seat at the table.
“Tell me about them,” he said.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yes, I’m sure. If I want to get to know you better, then I need to get to know them too.”
“Well, Freya is thirty years old, the same age I am. She’s the same height as me and has long auburn colored hair. She’s an artist, and her artwork is displayed at an art gallery downtown.”
“She paints?”
“Yeah. My second bedroom at my apartment is her art studio. Her artwork sells really well.”
“Interesting. I’d love to see some of her paintings sometime.”
“Then there’s Kate. She’s twenty-one.”
“What does she look like?”
“She’s about five foot nine and has short blonde wavy hair. She was the reason I lost two years of my life. When I turned eighteen, I had nowhere to go. I couldn’t stay in the system anymore, and the group home couldn’t kick me out fast enough. It was so overwhelming, and I didn’t know what I would do. So, Kate took over the body and decided it was a good idea to join the army.”
“You were in the army?” His brows furrowed.
“I wasn’t. Kate was. She served for two years before being kicked out.”
“Kicked out for what?”
“Apparently, another officer tried to have his way with her, and she defended herself.”
“How bad was it for the guy?” he asked.
“Pretty bad. She had discipline issues from the start, which was the final straw. I woke up one day, sitting against a brick wall outside of a deli downtown in the pouring rain. I had no idea where I was or what happened. A nice man stopped and asked me if I was okay. I asked him what day and month it was, and when he told me, I was relieved because, in my mind, it had only been a week. Until I found out what year it was, that’s when I lost it. I had nothing but the clothes on my back and nowhere to go. I went to the emergency room and told them I couldn’t remember the last two years of my life and needed help. After running some tests, they admitted me to their psychiatric ward, where I met Dr. Lenox. That’s when I found out about my condition and the alters.”
“You had no idea up until then about them?”
“Not really. The voices were always there, but I didn’t know what they were. A couple of therapists I saw growing up told my foster families that I was a deeply troubled child and most likely schizophrenic. Once they heard that, I was tossed around from family to family until I was put in a group home at the age of sixteen.”
“I’m sorry you went through that,” he said.
“I don’t remember much of it, though. The others were out a lot during those years.”
“So, how did Dr. Lenox diagnose you?”
“After a few sessions, the others trusted him and showed themselves. Dr. Lenox worked with me very closely, and we developed a close relationship. He didn’t have a wife or a family, so he kind of adopted me as a daughter. I even lived with him for a few years. He was the closest thing to a family we ever had.”
