Mercury's Orbit

by Lia Black

  When he came in, Mercury was at the window as usual. Sean walked past three men playing what resembled a cross between poker and go-fish; the decks of cards were made up of bits and pieces from other games. Mercury’s amethyst eyes rose and locked for a long time onto Sean’s face. Sean hoped for a glimmer of recognition, but saw none before Mercury looked away. With a sigh, and another hard swallow of acceptance, Sean moved towards the empty seat near the window.

  “Hey Merc, how are you?” he asked, as he always did. He slid into the high chair, facing Mercury and checking over his long braid of hair.

  “Time to take this out. Wash your hair today,” Sean said.

  Mercury touched the silver plaits of his hair, his long fingers seemed to contemplate the sensation of the strands for a moment, before his hand fell away.

  “C’mon.” Sean said and took Mercury’s hand, coaxing him from the chair and leading him out of the day room. He stopped at the circular, glass nurse’s station, getting Byron’s attention.

  Byron scooted over without getting up from his rolling desk chair. “Bath day all ready?” he asked, handing Sean a key card to get into Mercury’s room. For the first few weeks, Byron insisted on being present, despite there being cameras in every room. But now he let them have a limited sense of privacy, trusting Sean enough to know he meant Mercury and the system in general no harm.

  Nudity was no longer intimate. It had become just another state of care. While Mercury’s physical attractiveness had not degraded, all it was now was a pretty, empty shell. Still, there were times when Sean had washed him, that he’d hug Mercury from behind, fighting back the urge to cry upon his shoulder. He was in love with a man who had died, yet his body still walked around. Every little glimmer brought the blinding reality. Even if Mercury could come back, he’d die in prison. His sentence was not forgiveness, it was just a stay of execution. Despite his reasons for doing so, murder was still murder. Even knowing all of this, Sean refused to let go. His selfishness was masochism disguised as love. He wondered if Byron and the other staff pitied him, or thought him a fool.

  The places they bathed the residents were built for utility, like washing dishes. Sean was more inclined to try to make the experience as pleasant for Mercury as he could. He thought about how his mother handled bath time when he was a child. She made the tub into an ocean for him, letting him play with the toy boats and sea monsters until the water went cold. Mercury dutifully stepped out of his facility-issued pajama pants and night shirt as Sean helped him undress; his gaze fixed solidly on the tub. These little moments—times when Mercury touched him—even if it was an automatic response to the body being unbalanced, were tiny things Sean treasured. Maybe it was like a parent caring for a sick child. Somehow knowing what they did affected the other’s life in some small and supportive way—offering comfort—was enough to keep them from crushing despair. It was not a pleasant thought.

  Sean had kept his own physical health up for Mercury’s benefit and to keep his mind from wandering to dark places when he was alone. In the beginning, when Mercury couldn’t walk, Sean would carry him to the tub, having to support him the whole time to keep him from sliding down. Mercury was still unsteady at times, but he didn’t need Sean as much. A toddler wandering off into the world, yet a parent following closely behind to catch them should they fall, and keep them from getting lost. Keep them safe.

  Sean took off his shirt, knowing otherwise he’d get soaked washing Mercury’s long hair. He tested the spray of water on his hand, adjusting the temperature and the pressure so that it was just right.

  In this, Sean had found religion. A sacred ritual. Prayer was the gentle massaging of Mercury’s scalp and shoulders; the wringing out of water from his long, silver hair. Accordingly, Sean’s worship had made him the only priest; devoted and celibate. It had been months since his disastrous blind date and Evan had pretty much given up. Sean appreciated that Evan cared about him—wanted to see him happy—like Evan and Charles and their little girl, Nina, were happy. But that was a life and a family he never would have known, regardless. Maybe he might have found someone to love, somebody to come home to, someone to lessen the loneliness of being a cop. But that future was gone—not even part of his regrets anymore. Everything was Mercury. Sometimes Sean wondered if Mercury would be pleased by his devotion, or if he’d tell Sean he was being a fool. Probably a little of both. A small laugh escaped Sean and it caused Mercury to startle.

  “Shh, sorry Merc. Funny thought.” Sean gripped Mercury’s shoulders gently as he knelt and kissed the back of his damp head. Mercury relaxed, or simply forgot the experience and Sean sighed, finishing up and wrapping him in a dry towel as he braided his long, coarse hair.

  The remainder of the day was spent reading to Mercury—children’s books about the fucking Flutterby Fairies—then getting him to eat something and finally tucking him into bed. Sean leaned down and pressed a dry kiss to Mercury’s freckle-dusted cheek as he pulled the blankets up around his chest.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Merc. Sweet dreams…I love you.” Every time he said it, he meant it, but it never hurt any less, or failed to sound ludicrous in the silence of the room. They had each passed another birthday. Silent, uncelebrated for the most part because Mercury had still been on machines. Sean still brought him a bouquet of balloons and wished him a happy April Fools. Sean’s thirty-seven years felt more like two-hundred. If Mercury had stayed in the coma, would he have given up?

  Probably not. Sean was a completionist—determined to see everything through to the end, even if that end was his own. It was obvious which of them was the fool.

  The week started with a seizure.

  Mercury had been fine one moment and the next he was on the floor, jerking and foaming like he’d been electrocuted. The episode even caused the lights in the building to flicker, sending security into a frenzy to make sure the exits were covered. Sean received a serious bite to his fingers as he tried to keep Mercury from biting down on his own tongue. The staff acted quickly, getting Mercury isolated and giving him an injection of something to calm him down, but it was a sobering and terrifying experience. It left Sean suffering from more crushing guilt because, just for a moment, a tiny part of him hoped that it meant Mercury would die.

  “Happens with traumatic brain injuries,” Byron was saying as Sean sat across from him, cleaning and bandaging Sean’s hand. “Well, not the light flickering thing. Forgot about that stuff, but that’s not my department.” Byron shook his head, clucking his tongue. “Anyway, a seizure is sometimes a good sign. Means the brain is trying to heal itself. Unfortunately, it’s often trying to heal a part that isn’t there.”

  Sean remembered the CPU analogy—tripping over a bad sector. It was no more reassuring than it had been back then. He must have sighed, or stared too long at the counter top because he realized Byron had sat back on his stool and was staring at him.

  “What?” Sean automatically touched his mouth, touched the scar that Mercury had left upon his lips. It had become a source of insecurity and solace. People often looked there before meeting his eyes, but no one had asked him about it yet. Sean wasn’t sure how he’d answer if they did.

  “Every damn day, Sean,” Byron said shaking his dark head. “Every damn day you come in, wearing that smile that a blind man could see through. And you go to him. Sit with him. Bathe him, feed him, fucking almost lose two fingers to him…”

  Sean frowned looking at the thick, white bandages keeping his middle and index fingers bound together on his left hand. “Are you asking me why? Or are you going to tell me I’m crazy like everybody else does?”

  Byron held up his hands. “Look, Sean, it’s none of my business. I’m just trying to figure out what it takes for a person to be as devoted as you. Look around. If you haven’t noticed, none of these residents get visitors. If they were married their wives moved on. If they had parents, they’re probably dead. Most times people are here, and they are forgotten. This is purgatory. But you�
��”

  “I’m sure you know who he is—who I am…or was.” Sean had managed to rein in his anger, but the inside of his mouth tasted like something burnt. This was a conversation he’d always expected to come up but hoped he’d never have.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I know who you are. And that’s why it’s so surprising. He left you everything, like he was all ready dead. Most people in a situation like that would have taken that opportunity to get as far away as possible. Every day you come in, I think that this time—this day—it’ll be your last. Yet you’re back the next day, and the day after that. You come to purgatory willingly. Like Persephone to Hades. Like you made a promise not to escape,”

  “I’m not like everybody else,” Sean said, his voice still held a little growl. He was defensive, because Byron was getting too close to parts of him that were all ready scraped raw.

  “No one would blame you if you didn’t come back…”

  “I would blame me!” Sean snapped, then said more quietly, “I would blame me.”

  One of the female nurses that had been there to help when Mercury seized poked her head through the curtain that separated the first aid clinic from the nurses station. “Mr. Argeneau? He’s stable now and resting if you’d like to go see him?”

  Sean glanced at Byron as he got up from his seat, but the apology on his tongue wouldn’t come out.

  “Go on,” Byron shooed him, leaving him with the impression that there were no hard feelings and nothing to apologize for. He was grateful. Since Evan had given up on him, he had nobody left who would just sit down and try to get him to look in the mirror.

  Sean followed the nurse back to Mercury’s room, where he found him sleeping.

  “Is he sedated?” Sean asked her.

  “Just sleeping. His brain gave his body quite a workout. How’s your hand?”

  Sean held it up. “It’ll heal, thanks.”

  She nodded, offering a tight smile, and left him alone with Mercury. Sleep was something else that had changed since the coma—Mercury actually slept, and, if the activity under his eyelids was any indication, dreamed.

  “Oh Merc,” Sean sighed and sat down next to the bed. “How can I make them understand something I can’t understand myself?”

  Sean reluctantly went home after about an hour of watching Mercury sleep.

  “Persephone, huh?” Sean chuffed as he caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he readied himself for bed. He needed to get some sleep so he could wake up early and start his new normal all over again.

  41

  It took a couple of days for Mercury to get back into his usual zombie-like state. After he’d woken up the next day, he’d seemed to have lost fine motor skills, and struggled to walk and raise his arms. Sean had carried him, ignoring Byron’s piteous, condemning gaze. If anything, it strengthened Sean’s resolve. He had nothing to prove to anyone and needed no excuse. On the way out that evening, he even stopped by the nurse’s station and told Byron: “Because I love him, okay?”

  Byron offered a small nod in response. “Okay.”

  By Thursday, things were back to normal, except they had added a new program to the mix. Instead of in the day room, Sean found Mercury in the cafeteria with several other residents. He was off by himself, sitting at a table, his nose very close to a sheet of paper as he scribbled with three crayons. Sean started to go into the room but Byron’s hand on his shoulder held him back. “He’ll stop if you go in there.”

  Sean stepped back, content just to observe.

  “It’s kind of like giving paint to chimpanzees. Enough time and one of them might coincidentally paint a Van Gogh.” Byron chuckled.

  “If it’s futile, then why do it?” Sean asked, glancing over his shoulder.

  “It’s good for the brain. Just like playing with cards, trying to smash pieces of a puzzle into place. Sometimes things make connections. Plus the state wanted to try out a new art therapy program.”

  As Sean watched, a staff member headed over towards Mercury and his hand stopped scribbling. When she got too close, his fists tightened over the paper, scrunching it up and tearing it to shreds.

  “Is he doing that on purpose?” Sean asked. It was the most cognizant thing he’d seen Mercury do.

  “Lizard brain, most likely. A territorial thing. Probably one of his genetic ancestors had the trait.”

  It somewhat irked Sean that Byron had a logical, medical explanation for everything Mercury did. But it kept him from false hope, from reading too much into these small changes and hoping desperately for more.

  “They’ll be at it for another thirty minutes. I’ll bring him to the day room when they’re all done,” Byron said, patting him lightly on the shoulder where his hand had remained.

  “Sure, okay.” Sean glanced back at Mercury as he turned. He’d been given a clean sheet of paper, but was now just staring off into space, the crayons had fallen onto the floor.

  Byron brought him a cup of coffee as he sat at the high table near the window. “It’ll be spring soon. This year you can take him out in the yard. Fresh air might do you both good.”

  “Byron, about the other day… I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

  “Don’t mention it. I can’t say I’ve ever been in your shoes, but I can imagine what I think you’re going through. All credit, Persephone.” Byron grinned and held up his hands in surrender.

  Sean let a smile slip free. “You’re good at this. Good with people. Why would you choose to work in a place where there is no hope?”

  Byron shrugged. “Call it my masochism, or maybe paying dues still owed from another life.”

  Sean chuckled softly, remembering what he’d read in Mercury’s letter. “Funny. Mercury said if he was reincarnated he wanted to come back as a cop.” He’d read that fucking letter almost every night. It helped him to remember that this shell of a person was once a man, and that man had been in love with him. Sean’s smile faded as the familiar weight of the present settled back in.

  Byron just offered another one of those supplicating smiles as a bell sounded near the nurse’s station. “That’ll be the end of the session. I’ll bring him out in a few.” He turned, heading towards the open double-doors, pushing furniture back into place as he went.

  Sean took up the coffee Byron had delivered and sipped it as he watched a few anemic flakes of snow drifting past the window. They swirled like insects, looking for a place to land, looking for a mate. He’d tried to make himself believe that he was different, especially after his relationship with Evan fell apart, but if that had been true, his feelings for Mercury never would have happened, and he wouldn’t be here now.

  Yet he’d never felt so lost, so lonely

  “Here we are,” Byron’s big, tuneful voice announced his return to the day room with Mercury.

  Sean rose to meet them, his sense of etiquette ingrained so deeply that he probably couldn’t stop it if he tried. He put on a smile for Mercury, because despite the crushing despair that followed these visits, he was always happy to see him.

  “By the way—I’ll be off for a couple of days,” Byron told Sean, “Finally got some coveted vacation time.”

  “Congratulations,” Sean said. He hoped they would both be okay without him.

  Byron handed Mercury off to him, letting Sean take Mercury’s hand and guide him to the stool. Mercury climbed up, more gracefully than he had in a while and Sean fought back the tendril of hope that tried to slither in through a crack in his emotional brick wall.

  “So they have you drawing now,” Sean said, making small talk as he normally did. He was getting too good at one-sided conversations, often realizing he was talking out loud to himself when he was alone. “I was never good at art. Too impatient and no talent,” he joked lightly. When Mercury watched him, like he was doing now, it almost made Sean think that he was paying attention to the words. But Sean understood that, if anything, Mercury was just watching the movement. They’d confirmed that Mercury wasn’t deaf; he startled too e
asily. A loud sneeze could make his body jerk, even when he was sleeping.

  “I miss you, y’know?” Sean said, looking down into his empty cup. “I wonder what things would’ve been like if… well…” he sighed and gave a little shrug. “Doesn’t matter. What’s important is that you’re drawing. I hope that you’ll let me see one of your drawings someday.”

  Mercury stared at him, one slow blink followed the next roughly every twenty seconds. As was typical, the day went by without notice, and soon the bell chimed that indicated visiting hours were over. Sean looked down, startled as he felt something cool touching the palm of his hand under the table. When he realized it was Mercury’s hand, covering and lightly squeezing his own, he looked up into his face again. Mercury leaned forward, very slowly, and Sean automatically leaned forward to meet him. Mercury’s breath was warm against his neck as he rested his chin on Sean’s shoulder.

  “Sunset.” A raspy whisper, almost too quiet to hear.

  Sean’s throat went tight, squeezing all the way down to his heart. Mercury pressed a folded piece of paper into Sean’s hand before he released him and sat back, staring out the window with his regular empty, glazed look.

  “Time to go,” Byron came into the room, giving Sean a wave.

  “Y-yeah. Right,” Sean said, managing to finally get sound to come out. He looked at Mercury, squeezing tightly the sharp corners of the folded paper in his hand, That was real…but the rest of it… “G-night Merc. Sweet dreams,” Sean said as he always did, and he leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. Mercury didn’t show any signs of awareness, which was normal when Sean said goodbye.

  “What’s that you got there?” The guard asked, indicating the paper from Sean as he was heading out of the facility.

  “This? Oh…” Sean handed it over, as per protocol. The guard unfolded it and chuckled. It was a drawing done in a child’s scrawl of a fairy holding a bouquet of daisies and a frog wearing a hat. He handed it back to Sean. “Glad to see our tax dollars being well-spent on occupational therapy for lifers, eh?”