Free Rainfall by Melissa Delport

slowly?”
    “I’m not him, ” he growls. “I’m not a pussy. I don’t want to talk about your feelings and play with your hair. I want to fuck - pure and simple.”
    I can’t help myself, I've never been good at dealing with being uncomfortable and this is by far the most uncomfortable I've ever been in my life. I burst out laughing. Kyle takes a step back and regards me incredulously.
    “Do woman ever actually fall for that machismo act?” I ask, trying and failing to stop giggling. Kyle looks affronted for half a second before a grin breaks over his face.
    “Sometimes.”
    “Really?” I raise my eyebrows.
    “Nah,” he shakes his head. “Look, Paige,” he draws out my name, “the thing is, I’m horny as hell and I find you extremely attractive, but I don’t know how I feel about your being involved with him.” He almost spits out the last word as though it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. “I figure maybe if we have some sensational, mind-blowing sex it might get you out of my system and I can go back to my life.”
    “Don’t you mean Adam’s life?” the words are out before I can stop them. 
    “I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.” His words are cutting and I force myself to see it from his perspective. Adam being healed means that Kyle disappears. 
    “So,” I change the subject abruptly, confused by the sudden sympathy I feel for Kyle, “are you going to let me in or not?” I gesture at the still locked apartment door.
    “Are we going to have any fun?” he asks, staring at my boobs. 
    “What if I said that I hadn’t decided?” I ask, testing the boundaries. 
    “I’d say that that is not exactly a no .” He turns the key with his right hand and opens the door, sauntering in first and throwing his keys onto the dining-room table. I follow him hesitantly, surveying the flat. Adam’s taste is just as bad as I suspected. He really does have the most awful stuff. And, as I suspected, absolutely nothing matches, but now I see this for what it actually is: Four separate people have had their own influence in the furnishing of this apartment; four very different people, each trying to create his own space with disastrous consequences.  I keep my opinion to myself and turn to ask Kyle a question but the words die on my lips.  
    He is standing right behind me holding a wicked-looking kitchen knife, a terrified expression on his face.
    “Who are you?” he asks, holding the knife between us and darting panicked glances at the door. I force myself to remain calm and remember that none of Adam’s alters are dangerous or psychotic. I focus on the knife and something important registers. He is holding it in his right hand.
    “Jacob?” I question tentatively. This is not Adam or Kyle and Simon is left-handed.
    “Who are you?” he asks again, cocking his head to one side.
    “I’m Paige,” I answer, keeping my voice calm and making no sudden movements. “I’m a friend of Doctor Sheldon’s.” The doctor’s name seems to reassure him and the knife drops to his side.
    “What are you doing here?” he asks quietly.
    “I’m here to help. I’m a friend, Jacob.” 
    “They’re close,” he whispers and I nod my head. 
    “ Who's close, Jacob? Is it Kyle?” I prompt.
    “All of them,” he answers, clutching the front of his shirt nervously. “They're always around; like vultures, circling and circling. They're just waiting for me to mess up.”
    My heart constricts in pity for this pathetic person and I find myself wondering again what could possibly have happened that could have caused such a trauma. 
    “Why don’t we sit and talk for a while?” I hear myself saying. “Maybe it will take your mind off them.” I pat the empty spot next to me on the settee and he perches timidly on the edge. He is very fidgety, constantly moving one or another part of his body. I can imagine that most of Adam’s emotional exhaustion originates from this personality.
    “Where do you