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Urges, impulses, cravings. There has been debate between Nature versus Nurture since the introduction of the words into human vocabulary. What makes an addict unable to say no? Who are the devil and the angel on each shoulder? Why does one trip over nothing, fumbling on usually competent two feet? Science and religion have been unable to answer these questions, but Sandy now, when Hector is awake, is both this and that.
Once, when Sandy was eleven years old, she went to church with a friend after a Saturday night sleepover. The friend was Catholic, like Sandy, and still went to church on Sundays. Sandy’s family had stopped going when she started losing faith, proving to her that religion was all for parental and society control. She was a precocious youngster. When she stepped into the church that day, she sat in the pew like a judged foreigner. She did not accept the wafer during Mass, but waited downcast and silent. On her way out of the building, she unthinkingly put her fingers in the lukewarm holy water, crossing herself. Monkey see, monkey do. Stepping through the large greystone archway out into the morning April light, Sandy’s feet were suddenly swept over her head, landing her on her bottom, unhurt but startled. She swore til the day she died, and relayed her hypothosis to Gary and others multiple times throughout her life, that she was picked up and dropped by an external force. It was not her typical slip and fall but one that became a core memory. Now Sandy thinks about this moment, illustrated as a cartoon, and believes that this is what she is now: whatever flung her gently but sternly in the air. She throws her lack of weight around.
It has been discovered that some people work with an inner monologue, continually narrating and editorializing to themselves while accomplishing day to day tasks. Other people do not have this inner voice, leaving space for mental energy spent on taking feet out of mouths, or assuring they do not enter at all. The question being: why do some people have this trait, while some do not? And what makes up this voice, this entity (entities)? Who is on the other end of the conversation? For those who do not have this inner voice, what superpowers hide in the space left open, if not used in a sort of filtering? What makes a brain surgeon different from a ballerina, a drunk different from a drinker, a fighter different from a runner? It is known what makes them different; the why is intriguing. It comes back to nature versus nurture.
Sandy started this eastern standard morning as an urge for sex and a craving for scones. When Hector first woke up, Sandy was in a good place. She was with Gary, the love of her life, in the most perfect natural setting ever to be imagined. In Eden, Sandy is an active participant, but currently it is as if she is paralyzed. Fortunately for her, she does not have the urge nor need to move. All this entity wants to do is observe. It is in her given nature, having had little time alive in which to be nurtured.
The animalistic drawl to sugar and sex are obviously not only brought on by Sandy’s pleasant mood, but by Hector’s bodily reactions to the smells and visions that surround him in the early morning. It’s an additional influence that Sandy has, subtle and sometimes involuntary. In the case of scones and the physical act of love, Gary’s body had two driving forces in favor of the same outcome, being both Hector and Sandy. Hector is unable to notice the shift in inner light that Sandy has caused, with everything being a new sensation. For all that he is aware, the inspiration and motivation she has over his life comes with the territory of being Gary.
For the record, Old Hector had an inner monologue, and it would be assumed that Gary would have a unique one of his own. Everything else about living as Gary is different then his past life, why would the same not go for his brain chemistry? Still, all Hector knows is how his own mind works, and that includes a full dialogue between himself and him. Sandy kinda sits on his shoulder like an extra inner debate, one that Hector believes comes with being Gary of Philadelphia.
Interestingly, though he has Gary’s body, Hector does not have the urge to drink. He has never had the urge to drink and is unaware of the plight of the addict. Gary, who fully identifies as an alcoholic, does not imprint this trait onto Hector’s being. Sandy, who and whatever she is, has taken that role. Not being an addict herself, it is hence absent from Hector/Gary. It is a good thing that Sandy is an extra addition of impulses, at least when it comes to Gary’s physical health.
Gary’s body, when awake, has one person at the wheel: Hector. There is one person in control of dreams: Gary. Hector still has his inner voice from before, it making up a large part of what he has become minus Gary’s body. Gary still has his complete inner voice, but it lives in the reality of Eden and in Hector’s memories. Sandy, it seems, made from Gary with permission from Hector, has no inner monologue. She has thoughts and feelings, but they are more pictures of situations and the knowledge that an emotion exists within her. So, when she sees Gary’s naked form in Dr. Marie Kelmer’s bedroom mirror, her anger rises with his erection.
First, she is furious with Gary. Sandy twinges the beautiful coupling between lovers with hidden violence, enough for both Marie and Hector to notice, but not enough that it cannot be passed as sparked passion. Sandy, in her anger, contributes to the dark thumb print on Marie’s inner thigh, the bite mark on her neck, and the rip in the flowered pillow case. Unfortunately for Sandy, the two people physically involved think it’s hot.
It isn’t until Hector has moved onto the scones and Marie is on her second shower that Sandy realizes that it isn’t Gary that Marie is sleeping with at all. She knows it isn’t him. Gary is tucked under the eves of their shared mind, somewhere else Sandy can’t quite sense. He told her about living Hector’s memory, and correctly places him somewhere around there, behind the ears. This person, whose life spews upon the screen in the sky above and around her, is not Gary, but Hector, the one who made this possible. The one she was told to go to for guidance. Sandy feels betrayed but is unsure by whom.
Sandy influences desire, craving, and unavoidable impulses. She is not fully formed, but has taken shape in these constructs. In the sixteen hours out of twenty-four that Hector is awake, no one is aware of Sandy, her power, her entity. She is only a memory. To be or not to be, to have been or never have existed…
Being gifted with a mind of her own, and unfortunately for Hector, she is a captive audience. Sandy sees her husband make love to his therapist. She knows that it isn’t Gary who is in control, but someone named Hector. Still, she is fury, and his morning shower burns his skin under her duress. He has stolen her husband’s public grieving, he has disused his body and dishonored her memory. When he shaves his face, little red blots pokadot his skin. Hector thinks it is because he is unaccustomed to the act, but it is Sandy making the razor slip.
Hector wants Dr. Kelmer to be with him for support throughout the day, but Sandy would like to be alone with him, so he says he can handle things on his own, though there is nothing further from the truth. Hector thinks this is how Gary would react, but it’s all Sandy. Later, in the morgue, she won’t let him look at her cold broken naked body, so he feels it is inappropriate with a downturned glance. Though not making any decisions and without a guide, Sandy continues to sway. When Hector/Gary orders his coffee, she wants him to order it strong and black, hoping it upsets his stomach. She laughs when the nausea hits. Throughout the day, she sits on his shoulder like a vengeful Jiminy Cricket.
At the police station, the actuality of her demise hits hard. The navy blue, black, and white shields on the officer’s uniforms reflect back the finality of death like a gravestone. Sandy is not made of anger and spite, she only has a bit available within reach. In what needs to be done, she simply directs Hector/Gary’s eyes to the right signature lines, luckily for him without further irritation. It is too big a moment, completely comprehending that she is dead, for her to interfere negatively.
Though he is not aware, Hector believes that he is doing this on his own. Instinctively, it seems, he knows Sandy would like to be cremated. He makes arrangements with the first funeral home he finds, and Sandy, not one to want to plan her own, encourages the fastest and least painful package. She will not allow him to call her parents. It isn’t time. She clamps down like a steel trap when Dr. Kelmer tells Hector/Gary that he needs to inform Sandy’s family. He knows this is something that he has to do, that it is his responsibility, but Sandy will not let him dial the phone. It is as though Gary/Hector is living in an anxiety dream where his fingers refuse to press the right buttons to call. Somehow, through some sort of influence, Sandy will not let him dial. With a slight diabolical smirk, she hears Dr. Kelmer tell Gary/Hector that it can wait until tomorrow morning, but no longer. Her parents need to be informed, but it can be avoided until after the night’s sleep.
When Marie and Gary/Hector sit to eat lasagna, Sandy encourages him to eat quickly, almost like he is forcing it down. Sandy does not want her husband’s body to enjoy a meal cooked by this woman. Though Gary/Hector cannot help but taste the food, acknowledging its delicious flavor, she will attempt to make it sloppy and fast. Sandy thinks about Marie’s stupid prideful face, so happy to be the winner, the one who got the handsome salesman away from his shrew of a wife. Hector/Gary spills his water.
So when Sandy decides to confront Dr. Marie Kelmer, Hector will only be slightly aware that he takes steps to assure that everyone sleeps soundly tonight, giving the dream world a more stable foundation. Not sure why he does it, he puts two of Marie’s pills in her evening tea, and takes one himself. Sandy may not have complete control, but she has an impact.
Well, well, well… who knew that mild mannered Hector could be such a dominant control freak. Pretty sure he’s still the same timid self-conscious hector.