The second alter

     As soon as I knew about Jessica, I started spending time with her. I wrote in my journal:

     I find myself still picturing her as two or three when I read to her or put my arms around her but I know she's seven, so this morning I asked her if she is still pretending to be littler than she is, with younger interests, because she wants to please me. I felt she said yes.
     I assured her again I love her whatever age she is and there seemed to be a relaxing inside. My imagination now pictured a longer, lankier child on my lap. I widened my arms to accommodate her.
     "You like horses, don't you?" I remembered. "That makes sense. Two-year olds aren't into horses--but seven-year olds are! I bet you like--let's see--" The titles of several horse books rushed into my mind, as if she were showing them to me all at once. "Black Beauty? Misty of Chincoteague? And I bet you like Anne of Green Gables." I felt her pleasure and agreement.
     A day or two later, Gail called. She wanted to know if I was all right with her "slip of the lip" the other day. I told her yes, that it was good to know for sure that I'm multiple, that I had suspected the possibility, wasn't afraid of it and had been spending time every day getting to know Jessica.
     She was relieved. "I saw two, actually," she admitted.
     "Two?"
     "Two little girls. They're both in the upper part of an A-framed cabin, like an attic. One is talking to herself. She's on one side, jabbering away. She's frustrated, more animated.
     "There's another one, facing away. Almost asleep, like, 'Don't bother me. Let me sleep!" I'm not getting a name. She's artistic but very much alone. 'Just keep things quiet, under control, and maybe nobody will see me.'"
     Now I'm getting that her name might be Melissa.
     I think there may also be a Jenny.

From my journal, June 22, 2007