Chapter 16
Several Minutes Earlier…
Sam A and Al stood at the door to Brenda’s girlfriend’s house, as Sam prepared to knock at it.
“You sure you can handle this?” Al asked with a worried frown.
Sam nodded. “Of course I can. Just needs a soft, caring approach. Trust me, I’ve dealt with this kind of thing lots of times, haven’t I?” He knocked on the door and adjusted his posture in anticipation.
“Well, that may be, but you were never half of yourself before.”
“Just relax, Al—I’ve got this,” Sam whispered confidently as the door creaked open, revealing a tall woman with a big scowl on her face.
“This must be the friend,” Al provided. “Name’s Jenny.”
“Oh. It’s you,” the woman said icily.
“Hi, Jenny. Is Brenda here? I—”
“Brenda doesn’t want to talk to you right now.” She moved to shut the door, but Sam placed a hand on the door, pushing back with a gentle but firm force.
“Wait… please,” Sam said softly, “I know I screwed up, and I’m here to make it up to Brenda. Please, give me just a couple minutes. I promise I’ll leave if you ask me to after that, but if I can just have two minutes…”
He reached out, grasping her hand, and giving her his best puppy dog eyes.
“I only have a few days until I go to a war zone, you know? I don’t know if I’ll make it home, and I can’t just leave this rift between my wife and I as it is. I want to do all I can to mend things while I still have the chance. For her, and for our child.”
Sam could see Jenny’s frosty expression melt before his eyes, and she sighed, nodding. “Okay. I’ll get her. Just wait here.”
“Thank you, Jenny,” he said, letting go of her hand and wiping the moisture from his eyes as she went further into the house.
“Well, okay then,” Al said, an impressed look on his face. “I guess you do got this.”
Sam flashed him a smile. “I told you. Mister Grouch over in the car there has all the bad parts of my personality.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Al mumbled as Brenda appeared in the doorway, frowning. “Here’s the Missus, Sam.”
“What the hell do you want?” she spat, as the smell of alcohol filled the general vicinity. “I came here to get away from you, Bobby. And I told Jenny I didn’t want to see you. I don’t know what you said to her, but…”
She trailed off as Sam placed a hand on her stomach.
“Brenda, I’m so sorry if I made it seem like I wasn’t ecstatic about our baby.” He drew his mouth into a smile. “I’m truly thrilled, and I’m positive you’re going to make an amazing mother. And the harsh words I said—well, I was being a jerk, and I want to make it up to you. I don’t want what might be our last days together to be spent fighting.”
Brenda wobbled on her feet, sniffling as she drank in his words. “Neither do I, but…” she started as her lip quivered, “you really hurt me, Bobby.”
“I know, and I’m so sorry,” Sam said, holding her tightly as she collapsed into his arms. He ran fingers through her hair in a soothing way, letting her sob for a moment.
When he felt the time was right, he continued. “Hey. You’ll never guess who came to visit.”
“Who?” came Brenda’s muffled murmur, from the depths of his embrace.
“Richie. He’s in the car.”
Brenda pulled back, looking Sam in the eye. “He actually came?” She leaned past him, looking to the car. “Oh my god, there he is. I can hardly believe it. I was sure he’d abandoned us all.”
Sam chuckled. “Guess not. You wanna come back home? We can all talk.”
Brenda heaved a sigh, and nodded. “Okay… I guess I don’t want to be the one unaccounted for this time.”
“Nice goin’, Sam!” Al commended. “I’ll go let the other one know.” He tapped a few buttons on the handlink before vanishing from the doorstep, and reappearing in the car next to Sam B.
As he escorted Brenda to the car, Sam A couldn’t help but smile widely. It was like there was nothing he couldn’t accomplish. Certainly, there was still work to do with Brenda, but he knew he could do it. Everything would fall into place. He’d do it all.
Back at the car, he glimpsed his counterpart’s sulking face, and wondered if that part of himself had been extracted on purpose by the powers that be. Maybe he’d outgrown it, and he’d be unburdened by such negativity in the future. That sounded just fine to him; a favour, really.
* * *
“Hey, Verbena, you got a minute?” Al asked as he poked a head into the Waiting Room.
Verbena was sitting next to the two-in-one twins, who was hunched over on the side of the hospital bed. She looked up to him with a curious look.
“Well, Bobby’s just finished telling me about his wife, so I guess I can spare a moment.”
Al raised an eyebrow. “Bobby?”
Verbena nodded, and climbed off the bed, lowering her voice as she approached the door. “Yes, he seems to be the current personality, though there isn’t a clear delineation between the two of them. He seemed to slide from one to the other over several minutes of conversation. He was quite confused about it.”
“Well, that’s almost as weird as what I just witnessed,” Al said grimly. He shut the Waiting Room door as the two of them emerged into the corridor. “Sam didn’t just get copy pasted into two people. His personality got split down the middle—” Al demonstrated by chopping down with his hand, “—and now he’s… he’s Doctor Beckyll and Mister Hyde.”
Verbena’s eyes were wide. “What do you mean, exactly?”
“Well, I told you that he was having a crisis before, right? The one who leaped into Bobby. He’s about ready to throw in the towel on leaping, and he’s Debbie Downer all the time.”
Verbena nodded, folding her arms. “And the other one? Who leaped into Richard?”
“Oh, Sam A—that’s what he decided to call himself—you know, he’s in a great mood, but… I dunno, somethin’ about him is bothering me.” Al pulled an unlit cigar from his jacket and began passing it from hand to hand nervously. “He’s way too gung-ho about everything; over-confident, I guess. Thinks he can take on the world. I don’t think either one of them are a hundred percent all there, if you get me.”
“Hmm.” Verbena furrowed her brow and looked into the distance. “So Sam’s psyche has separated into two distinct sides of his personality. It almost sounds like the id and superego.”
Al stared blankly at her. “This is why I hate talkin’ to shrinks. I don’t know what they’re going on about half the time.”
Verbena smirked. “Like the angel and devil on your shoulder.”
“Like in cartoons?”
“Not that cut and dry, but a little like that,” Verbena said with a chuckle. “From what you’ve told me, it seems as though one of him is more self-interested, while the other has lofty idealism. Both the id and superego are essential aspects of the human condition, but they are supposed to balance out, with the ego making the ultimate call. If it’s true that he’s had them separated from each other, then I certainly worry about the both of them.”
Al pursed his lips, scratching his head with the cigar between his fingers. “What do you think we should do about it?”
“Well, you need to act as the ego,” Verbena said, as if it was the most obvious of solutions. “You have to be the one to tell him when he’s going too far or doing the wrong thing. I mean, them.”
“Well, there’s only one problem there, Beeksy,” Al said, jabbing the cigar towards her. “We’ve only been able to get a working signal with the both of them in the same place together, but Ziggy’s got them with two different goals in two different states. I can’t keep tabs on ’em if they’re gonna be apart.”
Verbena grimaced. “I really wish I knew what to do about that little hitch,” she said with a deep sigh. “But they’re together now, right? You should get back in there while you can. Remember: you have to be the moral compass, especially for the half in Bobby. So… knowing you… please try not to encourage too much debauchery, okay?”
“Too much—?!” Al scoffed. “There’s no such thing, Verbena!”