by Emma Janson
Ignacio interrupted him. “I can’t keep doing this, Buck. I’m not gay.”
Buck gently cupped the back of Ignacio’s head when he was close enough, and kissed each of his dimples, temporarily silencing the frazzled Mexican who stubbornly accepted the affection – although he acted as if the action was appalling.
Buck looked into his dark brown eyes while gingerly holding his partner’s head. “You are right.”
“Pendejo! That’s it? No fight? You’re not going to ask me why or – or be sad?” He shook his head from the warmth of Buck’s hands to free himself from the closeness that either comforted him or smothered him, depending on the moment. The shock over Buck’s non-reaction was as stunning as a family member’s death notification. Unwavering truth pierced straight to the center of his heart. Recognizing that Buck was giving up on the fight to love him was agonizing, as he saw it.
Buck knew he had to explain himself, yet again, to his lover. “You say it’s over every time we are together, so, you know, I just think you are right this time. This can’t go on – for many reasons.”
Buck’s perfectly contained emotions and hidden expressions began to erupt from within. His hands began to tremble as he choked back the incredible urge to cry. In an effort to show Ignacio that it wasn’t an easy decision to let go, Buck tried to return his hands to the back of his head.
Ignacio was less than comforted. “Get your fucking hands off me, you faggot!” he screamed as he pulled Buck’s hands away and stepped backward to position himself into a defensive stance. “You can’t end us. I fucking end us. We are done!” He straightened his arms to the ground and balled his fists at the end while his anger seethed from within, swelling the veins in his neck beyond their extended capacity. His ears began to burn as waves of heat seared upward into them.
Heartbroken, but desperately trying not to show it, Buck chose his words carefully. “I’m begging you, please. I can’t date a patient. I’ve been telling you that.” Buck placed his hand over his chest and took a step back. It was a genuine display of his sincerity and his growing uncomfortable disposition.
As Ignacio’s mixed messages continued to spew from his mouth, he continued. “I’m getting out soon. When the docs sign my paperwork, I’ll be done with this place, and we could have moved on...but you got me all twisted up and I’m telling you that I’m not a fucking queer!” He pointed his fingers into Buck’s face as his body lunged forward, warning him to back up. “I like pussy.” He popped the letter P in Buck’s face, saying it again and spraying a little spit and hot breath onto his mouth and chin.
“Stop it, Ignacio.” Buck took a step backward, turning his face from side to side as he pulled his chin inward to retract every portion of his body from Ignacio’s forward insistence. The power dynamic shifted with every inch he lost. The Mexican was gaining precious real estate on his torso, and pushing his face into the natural biological heat cushion that surrounded a person when they got upset. This invasion created the sensation that Buck could vomit at any moment. After swallowing hard, Buck managed, “I thought you loved me.”
“I cannot love another man. I am not gay!” Ignacio yelled as he pushed Buck in a macho, alpha male display – although his knees felt weak.
Buck tried to correct him without sounding condescending, but after the conversation he’d had with Mr. Reed, he knew he had to set his feelings aside and do the right thing. “You are gay, actually. I hate to do this, but you can’t push me around and...”
“Fuck you.” Ignacio pushed at his chest again, this time with more force and with crazy-focused eyes that seemed to be coated with the color of...anger.
Buck’s voice boomed louder and more prominently baritone after he spread his legs to stabilize his stance. “I’m telling you to stop. Just stop!”
“Or what, Buck? You gonna rape me again – take advantage of my sensitive mental state here at Northern Lights? I don’t love you! You made me lose my focus, you prick, and I’m putting myself back on track as of today, so I can find my fucking mother.” Ignacio pushed Buck’s chest as hard as he could, but when his stance held firm, there was nothing he could do but unleash his anger on his face, neck, and chest. His slaps and punches were wild and erratic as he lost control of the separation between his reality and Juana’s. In a full burst of raging, uncontrollable emotions, he kept slapping at him even after a trickle of blood oozed out of Buck’s nostril.
Buck stood his ground as Juana pushed her way into the physical world of Ignacio’s body. As she clawed and beat at Buck’s chest, he began to cry from his broken heart; from the truth of who he was in love with and the pity he’d begun to feel for a person who was completely insane. When her breathing finally returned to a normal rhythm, her hair was left wild and unkempt with the tips tickling at the moons on her cheeks. That’s when Buck gently escorted her to a chair at the nearest craft table. His skin stung in a heated pain that he had never felt before. The inside of his nose burned and itched with dripping blood which was warm until it hit the top of his lip, where it cooled in an uncomfortably thick wetness. Yet, he pulled the chair out for her.
She sat willingly, but stared at the floor for a long moment before looking up at him, noticing for the first time that he had sparkling green eyes. Her face scrunched together as she blinked profusely in confusion and shook her head to refocus. When she looked again, they were the familiar chocolate brown color she loved.
From beyond the craft room, Ute peered through the small window in the door with her beady, aged eyes that were bloodshot from smoking medical marijuana and her most recent dose of a new prescription. Her giant sagging chest smashed against the door while she pushed herself closer to witness Buck kneeling before “Juana” and looking deeply into her eyes while he lovingly tucked her, curly locks behind her ear. Ute rubbed at her dry eyes wondering if what she witnessed was a result of the blue pill she had never taken before. She could see Buck’s emergency cell phone light blinking from inside the pocket of his nurses’ uniform now, although he must have had it on silent because he never answered it. The pair began to talk as tears streamed down their faces. It was a silent film much like Ute remembered from her childhood – only, this time, it was in color and the people in it were...colorful. She mumbled ‘baunkerhaus’ under her breath, but continued to watch through the glass as her head swirled.
Juana cried as Buck tried to calm her with his deep, soothing voice and southern, sweet tone. “You are confused, aren’t you?”
Defeated, she nodded her head yes. “I’m so fucking confused that my brain feels like it’s on fire. Oh my God, your nose is bleeding, my love.”
Buck’s voice, tender and true, calmly asked, “Do you trust me?”
“I guess.” Juana sniffed back the snot that was pooling in the back of her nose and wiped the tears away. “Go on. Explica, pendejo. I’m listening.”
As gently as he possibly could, Buck explained she was the alternate personality of a man with Dissociative Identity Disorder. “You know, like Mr. Jenkins and Samuel,” he said.
Juana smiled as if she was waiting for the punchline. “So, I don’t got tits and a pussy? So, if I masturbate, am I fucking myself?” She laughed, pushing her dimples to the surface of her make-believe face, and sat back in the chair again, disbelieving every word that was being said.
Buck didn’t move or crack a smile. The blood under his nostril glistened in the terrible lighting.
Juana played into what she thought was a terrible joke. “Do you love me or this man?” She smiled.
Buck shook his head. He pushed a curl away from the eyes that he loved. He answered honestly. “You.”
THE DISSAPEARANCE OF JASON
Within the perfectly organized office of Jill Reed, surrounded by beautifully oiled wood architecture of the mansion’s glory days, Jack stood on the opposite side of the desk. He leaned over Jill’s monogrammed pen set to share a moment with his wife, who was slouching uncomfortably in her leather chair. Her composu
re and effort to maintain any semblance of professionalism was gone now that she was in her husband’s presence. The antique clock behind her desk chimed as the automatic air freshener misted its lavender scent into the air just as she had set it to do. Both noises made her jump a little as she finished explaining the scandalous situation she – they – were in.
Jack’s boney fingers spread out over a disheveled file with Maggie’s name on it. His face was as worried as it was angry.
Referring to Maggie’s breaking and entering, he asked the undying question. “How did she get into your office, Jill?” His tone held a bit of accusation. “And a gun? Why the hell didn’t you tell me five days ago when it happened? This isn’t good, not one bit.” He shook his head in disbelief. Jill pulled her hands up to her face to cover it for an extended moment before sliding her fingers through her white bangs. She’d honestly thought she could handle everything on her own.
She exhaled, which relieved some of the frustration, but it left her open to other, more complex feelings – namely, what actions to take next with her husband. It was the first time in years that she’d truly lost control over anything related to the facility. Jack saw that she was biting her lip on the inside to prevent it from quivering, but it wasn’t working. He knew that her emotional investment in the facility didn’t come without cause.
Jill looked desperately into her husband’s eyes and held her stare as her face took on a look of anguish. Only Jack understood the gravity of their desperate state of twelve years earlier when Jason had come home from medical school as a different person. The day Jason’s body had walked through the door as he’d introduced himself as Buck Lynn had solidified the bed and breakfast idea. When it hadn’t been pulling in enough money to sustain itself, let alone their son’s medical bills, they’d taken the opportunity from Germany with one condition. Other than the twins, it would become long-term health care for DID patients. Researchers from around the world had caught wind of the endeavor; the Reeds had never worried about finances again. However, no success came without a price.
Their price was lying to personalities that did not exist. Mainly, their son, their youngest ginger-haired child, who believed he was his own lover.
Jason had never officially come out of the closet, but they’d known. Somewhere in the mansion, there was a box of photographs of their son with his “best friend” – they’d been enough to prove their suspicions.
Unfortunately, they’d never had the pleasure of meeting the real Buck Lynn. In their son’s fourth year of medical school, they’d learned that Buck’s father had been killed while serving overseas in Iraq. Additionally, he was dealing with the newly discovered information of a half-sibling he’d known nothing about. Jason confessed that this tragedy had pushed Buck into depression, and that he himself was developing anxiety over the stability of his so-called friend’s mental state. Jason cared about people in general, but Buck Lynn pulled at his heartstrings more so than any person in his life. He even wished he could take his place so that Buck didn’t have to go through this suffering.
The unforeseen truth behind those remembered words made Jill shudder as she pulled out of her thoughts to stand up. She continued to stare at her husband in something of a trance while back-stepping toward the clock. It was a gift from Jason. Jack subtly shook his head no as his forehead wrinkled and his eyes closed gently over the pain his wife was about to bring upon herself. But he said nothing, as she wouldn’t listen; she never did.
She gingerly pushed the bottom of the clock to the left, revealing a small hidden panel that opened to an even smaller nook in the wall. The nook housed one item.
As she pulled a bulky flip cellphone from behind the antique clock, Jack watched and calmed himself without speaking. He knew what her familiar actions meant, but a part of him wanted to hear the voicemail, too. Even though he’d heard it often enough to recite every word and every inflection in his son’s last message.
Jill carefully brought the phone over to the desk and sat it next to Maggie’s disheveled file. She pressed the button that powered the device on and, as it ran through its start-up process, she sat delicately in her chair, scooting it as close to the desk as it would go. Jack walked around the desk to stand at his wife’s side as she gently folded her arms and rested her head on them. Jack stroked her beautiful hair and moved it away from her face while she welcomed his fingers to her aging skin. She closed her sad eyes then, pushing fresh tears out of them as she sniffed every few seconds.
There was nothing Jack could do to comfort her, so over the past few years he’d trained himself to simply be quiet and let her have her moment of remembrance to honor the son they’d lost. He quietly reached out to grab the cell phone, and pressed a few buttons which clicked loudly before setting it to speaker. He placed the phone back on the desk again, this time in front of Jill’s face. She sighed deeply and then opened one eye enough to see the phone, and to press the correct button. A man’s voice that was similar to their favorite employee’s, but without an accent, began to speak.
“Mom, Dad, um, hi. It’s Jason. I was just calling to talk to you about something important, but I don’t want to do it on the phone, so I don’t even know why I’m calling to begin with. Jesus, I’m going insane. (nervous laugh) Listen, don’t worry, it’s nothing bad; I just, well, my friend Buck and I are planning to come home for spring break next week, so maybe it can wait until then. (grumbling) Maybe it will cheer him up. I need him to feel better. Yeah. Oh, that’s him calling on the other line now! I have to go, but I love you both. Dad, get your moonshine ready! Mom, mark that on your calendar or you’ll forget. Jason comes home in a week! Mark it! Love you!”
Jill clicked the button to play it again, but only let the recording run long enough to hear him say his name. She continued pressing the button in such a way that it repeated Mom, Dad, um, hi. It’s Jason over and over again as her tears spilled onto the desk.
Two days after Jason had recorded the message, Buck had committed suicide. The mental break of their son had occurred soon thereafter. He’d gone missing for two months before police escorted him out of North Carolina. He’d been caught attempting to break into Mrs. Lynn’s home, with Buck’s identification and credit cards in his wallet.
A neighbor who’d reported the incident had told police that he seemed as if he “…knew where he was going, like he lived there his whole life.” The report went on to detail how Jason had tried to enter through the front and back door of the home before walking around to press at the windows, checking for one that may have been unlocked. All of this had occurred while Jason repeatedly screamed, “Mamma, let me in! I forgot my keys!”
Luckily, Mrs. Lynn had been out that weekend and hadn’t had to experience that additional madness after the death of her son. Jill remembered trying to apologize over the phone, but Mrs. Lynn had been hysterical and hung up after calling Jason ‘crazy’ several times. Jill had never found out if the other woman had known the nature of the boys’ relationship, but she guessed that it didn’t really matter.
When Jason had been able to return home, it had been after jail time and a call from the state. The woman on the phone had been professional, but nothing prepared a parent for: ‘He’s suffering from a deep psychosis and needs to be evaluated.’
Buck Lynn had to have been someone really special for her son to quit his own life, just so Buck could live through him.
Jill understood that there was nothing she could have done at that time to prevent any of it. But there was a guilty part of her that felt, had they been wealthier, had they just paid for the right kind of treatment immediately following his breakdown, maybe Jason wouldn’t have faded away.
As she trailed off into deeper thoughts, Jack gently closed the flip phone after pulling it away from Jill’s fingers as they hovered over the replay button. “Jilly, that’s enough for today. Time to deal with the child we gained rather than mourn the one we lost. He’s in the west wing doing his secur
ity checks and he will be in here soon to secure your office. It’s time to close out for the day.”
Jill sat up and wiped her streaming tears away, then ran her finger across her nose like a child. She sniffed a few times while looking at the cellular phone in her husband’s hand before pulling tissues out to blow her nose. She put the phone back into its hiding place, made sure her hair was in perfect order, and then sat in her chair with a false confidence.
“We need to deal with this gun issue,” Jill managed.
Jack let go of the breath he’d been holding. “God, I almost forgot. Police involvement would shut us down. Shit. Is it loaded?” he asked as he walked around the desk to sit in the chair opposite his wife. He knew that this wasn’t the main concern, but to him, it was a valid point. Jill was at a loss for words.
He asked, “What papers did she take?”
“The twins’ entire folder, Jackie. I already told you that.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
Jack swirled his palm over the top of his thinning hair and then placed his index and middle finger on his forehead, pressing them there in frustration and creating an unnatural backward bend. “Well, you need to make nice with her or steal them back or something,” he said.
“She says she sent them to her husband, but they could be anywhere. Who is the husband of a woman that doesn’t exist?” Jill leaned back in her chair.
In disbelief, Jack thought of an infinite number of people ‘Maggie’ could have mailed documents to. Did she mail them to the uncle – the dead uncle of Belinda? Was he the make-believe husband of Maggie? He scratched his head hard and rubbed at his temples. “You are not kidding – they could be anywhere. Um, if we find the gun, we could shoot her?” Jack shrugged.
“Soooo not funny.” She shook her head in dismay while the corner of her mouth upturned in a guilty smile. The two of them looked beyond each other – thinking, brainstorming. After a very long and intense moment of contemplation, Jill spoke first, but it wasn’t about the gun. “Everything we have done has been for Jason. We just want them to feel like they live normal lives, right, Jackie? Our intentions are good. Things were going so well until Ignacio arrived. Then Jason wouldn’t stop talking about letting him into general population. Normal population. What’s normal about that Mexican? We should put him back into clinical.”