Angie and Devon

ANGIE AND DEVON

“Could you please, just once, think about how your over-the-top reactions reflect on those around you?”

Devon shrugged. “Nope. Unlike you, my dear Angie, I don’t care what others think.” She looked around Marie’s giant head, and gave Angie a sly smile. “Besides, for every action there is a reaction. And I am the queen of reactions!”

Angie sighed. “Learn Newton’s third law before you go quoting it. It’s actually ‘for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.’” She paused. “By that rationale, you should be forgiving the minor transgressions that occur all day, every day, not losing your bananas every time you think someone has been rude.”

Still smiling, Devon said, “Marie doesn’t agree. Do you Marie?”

Marie continued walking. “You two need to shut the hell up and stop bickering, or I swear I’m going to kill you both.”

Devon stuck her tongue out at Angie.

Marie rubbed her temples with her her fingers, trying to relieve the stress she felt building up behind her eyes. Today was her standing appointment with Dr. Cranston, her court appointed anger management therapist.

A couple of months ago, Marie had been driving home, and some idiot had cut her off. She’d hit her horn and the driver had flipped her the bird. It has enraged her so much, that she got out of her vehicle at the next red light, and beat the man’s car with her tire iron. She’d felt so much better. Until the police came and hauled her ass to jail. Ergo, her therapy sessions with Dr. Cranston.

She walked into the office and sat in the waiting room. This was her second visit to Dr. Cranston, and they hadn’t really developed much of a rapport. Yet. But she was leery that would every happen. Marie liked pizzaz, and the doctor was pizzaz-deficient. He was neutral--he dressed in beige, his office was varying shades of beige. His hair was light brown, his skin tone not too light, not to dark—just kinda beige. She bet herself that his car was beige. And his house. She’d noticed that he wore a wedding ring, and she guessed his wife would be beige, too. The only thing not beige were his eyes, which were a vivid shade of green. She couldn’t help hoping that he’d wear a pair of socks that matched his eyes—something, anything, to break up the brown. She was a woman who loved colour and he was too pale not to fail.

“Good one! Too pale not to fail! You should tell him that he’s bland and boring,” said Devon.

“Or,” said Angie, “you could just focus on your therapy session, and not be mean.”

“Or,” said Marie, through gritted teeth, “you two could shut the hell up.” When Angie and Devon didn’t say anything she hissed. “I mean it! No screwing around during therapy!”

Just then the door to Dr. Cranston’s inner office open and he stepped out, smiling. “Hello, Marie. Please come on in and have a seat.” She sighed. Still beige.

Marie followed the doctor into his office, and took the same overstuffed chair she had commandeered in her last session.

Dr. Cranston sat down picked up his notepad and looked curiously at Marie. “Did I hear you talking to someone in the waiting room?”

Shit! She had to stop talking to Angie and Devon out loud. Nothing good would come of anyone knowing about them. Or just as bad, thinking that she was talking to herself. Both were lose-lose propositions for her.

“No,” she said smiling weakly, “just reciting a personal affirmation.”

“You just lied to your therapist,” said Angie, sounding sad and disappointed, which made Marie cringe.

“Don’t tell him anything!” shouted Devon.

Dr. Cranston nodded his head. “Interesting,” he said. “Do you do daily affirmations?” He dropped his head and looked at his notes. “I don’t remember you mentioning it last time.” He looked at her expectantly.

“I, uh, only started doing them since our last meeting. I read that they’re great for self-calming.”

Devon snorted. “Self-calming my ass!”

“Shhhh!” said Angie. “She asked us not to talk!’

Devon chortled. “Right! Like I listen to what she says!”

“Be quiet!” said Marie, under her breath.

Dr. Cranston looked at her, concerned.

Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod. He’s going to have me committed! She slapped her hand across her mouth.

“Are you okay, Marie?”

She shook her head. “Yes. … No. I’m fine.” She smiled wanly. “Really. I’m fine. It just gets a little noisy in my head sometimes.”

Dr. Cranston wrote something on his pad. He furrowed his brow, looking concerned “What do you mean by ‘a little noisy’?” he asked.

She sighed.

“Don’t tell him, Marie. He’ll make us go away,”warned Devon.

“If you think it will help, you should tell him,” encouraged Angie, even though she did not relish the thought of being banished. But she knew it would be in Marie’s best interest.

“Fine,” said Marie, addressing Dr. Cranston, Angie and Devon. She took a big breath. “I … I have a devil and an angel that live on my shoulders. Devon the devil is on my left shoulder, and Angie my angel is on my right shoulder.” She couldn’t help noticing Dr. Cranston’s gaze travelled to her shoulders as if he were searching for her pixie-sized muses. “They’re invisible.” She shrugged. “Except to me. In fact, they both look just like me, only in miniature.” She paused and smiled. “They’re my own personal Mini-Mes.”

Dr. Cranston nodded, but he didn’t return her smile. Marie could tell by the look on his face that he didn’t know what to say.

“They’ve been with me forever. My grannie told me they were the two sides of me—the good and the evil, and I need to work with both of them to have balance in my life.”

Grannie had been the only other person Marie had ever told about Angie and Devon—not her mother, her father, or her friends. And Grannie had believed her, thank God. She told Marie that everyone has a good side and an evil side, and it was up to Marie to decide who to listen to—good Angie or bad Devon. Grannie had kissed Marie and told her that she believed that Marie would always make the right decisions. She had Marie promise she wouldn’t tell anybody about her angel and devil, because not everyone would understand. And people who don’t understand can be dangerous. And, up until a few minutes ago, she had kept her promise.

Dr. Cranston nodded, again, sill saying nothing.

“I’ve got to admit, Doc, you’re being pretty quiet.

He nodded, and looked at his note pad, then back at Marie. “Sorry, Marie. I was taken aback by your revelation.” He readjusted himself in the chair. “So, what do—” he glanced quickly down at his notes, then back up at Marie. “—Angie and Devon tell you to do?”

It was Marie’s turn to sit quietly.

Do I tell him the truth? she thought.

“NOOOO!” yelled Devon. “He will end us!”

“Yes, Marie, you should tell him if you want to stop being angry all the time,” said Angie, softly.

Dr. Cranston looked quizzically at Marie. “Were Angie and Devon just talking to you?”

Angie was startled. “Yeah. They were.” She leaned forward. “Can you see them? Or hear them?” she asked incredulously.

Dr. Cranston shook his head. “No, but your eyes moved left then right, like you were listening.”

She had no idea that she had a tell when Devon and Angie were talking to her. Well other than the talking out loud to invisible people. But since the advent of earbuds and cordless communication, Marie had found it so much easier to talk to them without getting strange looks—she just pretended that she was on a call. But she had no idea she moved her eyes around. Damn! She’d have to watch that.

“You can speak freely, Marie. I’m here to help you. What do they tell you to do?”

Marie took a big breath. “They don’t tell me to do anything. It’s more like they argue about how I should react to different things.” She looked at Dr. Cranston. He nodded his head, encouraging her to continue. “Take the accident—the reason that I’m here. When that guy cut me off, I was annoyed, but that’s the price of driving in the city—too many cars, not enough roads. And some drivers are just assholes.” She shrugged. “I was just going to blow it off. Angie’s like, ‘Well done, Marie. No use getting angry. It’s not going to change anything.’ Then Devon’s like. “What the hell, Marie! You can’t let that dick-head get away with that! Honk your horn and let him know he’s a dick and you’re not happy!’ So, I listened to Devon and honked my horn. Then the guy gave me the finger, which pissed me off. Meanwhile, Angie’s going on about how it’s not that big a deal, let it go. But Devon’s losing her shit, screaming in my head that the driver can’t get away with that crap, that I need to teach that prick a lesson. And, I gotta admit, I agreed with Devon. So when we were stopped at a red light, Devon told me to go beat the crap out of his car. So I did.” She took a deep breath. “And here I am.”

Dr. Cranston jotted something on his notepad. “Any other examples?”

Marie laughed. “Sure. Just before I told you that story Devon told me not to, because you would end us.”

“Do you want to ‘end’Angie and Devon and get them to stop talking to you, Marie?'

She took a moment to think. They’d been part of her for her entire life. She wasn’t sure she’d feel whole without them. But lately, she’d been listening to Devon more than she’d been listening to Angie, and she had to admit listening to Devon was getting her in a lot of trouble.

Like when Devon told her to trip he guy after he butted in while she was in line to get a coffee. His drink had gone all over the place. He’d screamed at her, inches away from her face. Marie’d been shook, but Devon thought it was hilarious. Or how Angie had tried to get her to talk to her neighbour about their barking dog, but Devon had insisted she call animal control, and the dog was taken away. The kids had cried and cried. Or how Devon thought pushing the shopping cart into the car when the driver hadn’t put it in the corral when she had finished unloading her groceries was hilarious. Angie was appalled, but Devon hooted in laughter. The list went on and on.

But get rid of them? She’d never even considered that before. “I don’t know,”said Marie. “I need to think about it.”

When her fifty minutes were over, she left the office. By the time she reached the street Devon was having a breakdown. “You’re gonna kill us! I know you’re gonna kill us!” she screamed, making Marie’s head pound.

She crossed the street and sat on a bench in the small urban park, sitting in the shade. She sat hunched over, holding her pounding head.

She took her phone out, and pretended to be on a call. “Stop it! Right now! I’m not going to kill you. I just … I just want to have more control over my life.”

“Our life! Don’t you mean our life!” screamed Devon.

“Yes. Our life,” she said. “Angie, what do you think?” There was silence. “Angie.” Marie waited, fearing the worst. “Devon, where’s Angie?” she said.

There was a pause. “She’s gone,” said Devon, her voice flat.

“What do you mean ‘she’s gone,’ Devon?” said Marie, fear bubbling up in her belly. “What have you done, Devon?”

“I didn’t do anything!” she said. “Not really. She just disappeared.”

“How can she just disappear, Devon? She’s been with me my entire life. Where is she?” Marie opened the photo app on her phone and pretended to be taking a selfie. It was true. Angie was gone. Only Devon remained on her left shoulder. No more balance.

She could see Devon shrug. “I dunno.” She smiled. “But now that she’s gone, we can really go balls to the wall, Marie! Do anything we want, whenever we want! We’ll change our names to Destruction and Mayhem. We’ll be able to do any frickin’ thing we want.” She sneered, showing Marie her teeth. “No more prissy Angie! From now on, you only have to listen to me.”

Without any conscious thought, Marie turned and ran back into Dr. Cranston’s office.

She threw open the door. “My goodness is gone! Devon killed Angie! You have to stop her! She’s pure evil!”