by Emma Janson
During Lydia’s wait for the head nurse to arrive, she watched Hilda and Ute Schmidt in their episode of Hypermania even as she kept an eye on the new guy. From behind the desk, she bit hard on her manicured tips while hearing Ute shout something about morphine from the lounge couch. They heckled like witches and slapped at each other with jovial tears, and from experience, she knew not to interfere. The last time she had, Hilda, in a fit of laughter, had punched her in the shoulder and knocked her onto the hearth of the fireplace. Lydia didn’t care to experience Hilda’s profound strength for a second time.
The Mexican turned to look at her with flushed cheeks. She was embarrassed, but waved him over again in an attempt to rescue him from the twins’ never-ending throes of hysteria. The man walked without hesitation, recognizing his opportunity for relief. His bookbag dangled from his right shoulder. Closing the gap between them, she saw that his gorgeous eyes were a rich chocolate brown that sparkled with each step he took. She would have been impressed and intentionally flirtatious...had he not worn that awful Mexican pride shirt asking if he was a Mexi-can or a Mexi-can’t. Not to mention the fact that she wasn’t a receptionist at a fancy hotel; this was Northern Lights. Her current job was to welcome patients, and yet keep her distance for safety. Everyone had their reasons for being in this place, though; God knew she had hers.
*****
She was there by circumstance. It had been a Wednesday afternoon, six months before this, when her beautiful face had lit up after reading local job placement ads on a website: Receptionist/Intake Clerk needed; must be patient and willing to work in a unique medical environment.
At least this job opportunity sounded interesting and didn’t involve stripping. She was tired of that life, although it paid the bills while military survivor benefits from her dad’s death were being held under investigation. This job posting was quite possibly the best stroke of luck in her two-month search to find legit work. She didn’t have to think twice about calling because it was two in the afternoon and she was jobless. After clearing her throat, she smiled several times as hard as she could. Her mother had told her years ago that it loosened facial muscles and helped relax her energy. Admittedly, it seemed to warm something in her cheeks and make her feel better.
After shaking her head at herself, she dialed the number listed at the bottom of the laptop screen. Per her mother’s previous insistence, she resumed her smile when she spoke on the phone to sound alert and more attentive to the person on the other end. She had no reason to dismiss this potentially valuable advice, after all – especially since it had worked when she’d hustled her exotic mixed ethnicity to a customer who preferred blondes at the strip club. The phone rang a few times before a voice boomed from the other end like a sweeter version of Darth Vader, “This is Northern Lights. How can we help you today?”
Lydia paused for a moment to analyze the familiar and yet unfamiliar speech she’d heard, and then she resumed her smile before speaking. “Um, yes, sir, I was calling about the ad for a receptionist; I’d like to know more.”
The man spoke almost too loudly, and Lydia flinched before pulling the cell phone away from her do-rag. He was clearly using one of the headsets they issued at call centers, with the microphone at his lips. “Yes, ma’am, I’ll direct your call to Mrs. Reed. She oversees hiring for this position and will handle all of your questions.” His deep baritone permeated the air around her, and she guessed it was coming from a huge chest to have harbored such a sound, but the twang in his speech was a surprise that almost tickled her ear.
Lydia took a chance when she heard the identifiable southern accent rumbling out of his voice, thinking suddenly that she recognized his deep tone. “Buck? Is that you?”
“Ma’am? Yes, this is Buck. How can I help you?” He was clueless about this person who knew his name, and waited while pushing the headset ear piece closer to his ear.
“It’s me, Lydia!” With strained excitement, she held her breath after saying her name, and then exhaled and grabbed her mouth to hold in her emotion, as she knew he wouldn’t exactly share her enthusiasm. Her nerves traveled throughout her body with an electric burst.
“Well, bless your heart; Daddy’s favorite child.” With a bitterness that only southern people managed through backhanded compliments, Buck continued, “I can’t give you money, Lydia honey. Daddy didn’t leave me and my momma anything, remember? We discussed this. Are you stalking me? I moved to New York for a fresh start and you are like a wart on my black butt that keeps coming back.”
A gulp could be heard at both ends of the phone.
Lydia answered, “I’m calling for a job, Buck. Receptionist position, remember? It’s just a crazy thing that you answered...my mom and I didn’t get anything, either, and I’m looking for work. You know it’s still with the military court system or criminal investigation people or sitting on somebody’s desk. I don’t know. Listen, we didn’t even know about you until after Daddy’s funeral. Come on, Buck, this isn’t our fault and you know it.” She dropped her fake smile to scratch at her scalp. Executing this conversation would be delicate but she was trying to maintain character.
Buck pushed the microphone closer to his mouth and tried to whisper to Lydia, who had to pull her cell phone away from her ear again. “First of all, we didn’t know about ya’ll. Lydia, I know you are a nice girl, but don’t give me the ‘Papa Was a Rolling Stone’ speech. He was a good dad until he up and left us in North Carolina when I was nine. You hear me? Nine years old and my daddy leaves to fu...sleep with a white woman. Now, I am sorry that he passed on while he was overseas, but Momma and I just want a piece of our lives back. It’s the fair and right thing to do.” Buck scratched his eyebrow and checked his teeth in a small compact mirror that he’d pulled from his orderly uniform, and then he pulled a small jar of Carmex from the same pocket and smeared it over his thick lips. He was trying to maintain his composure; otherwise, he would have waved his hands in the air and rolled his neck for emphasis. “Now, I am at work and I cannot afford to get fired over this unauthorized personal conversation!”
She quickly interjected, “You are my brother. I told you that before. I don’t want to suddenly be your sister after eleven years, but I just think it would be cool if we got to know each other. I’m sorry about all of this.” She wondered if he could hear the sensitivity she was desperately trying to convey.
Buck held back the sudden tears and the lump in his throat. He paused for a moment, scanning the room for anyone in earshot. “Honey, I know. It is painful for all of us. I am sure ya’ll understand. But listen, I have got to go. You need to speak to Mrs. Reed if you say you want this job. It’s a decent place to work.”
Lydia had never known their father to be a gigolo or anything other than a hardworking man, a respectable soldier, and an outstanding dad. The twenty-one gun salute he’d been given at Arlington Cemetery had been as honorable as it could get, too, but it had all seemed like a lie after Buck’s mother had made the shocking call that shattered everything they thought they knew about him. The discovery of another ‘first’ family had ripped her apart like a second death. The two families had eventually spoken several times over the phone, and met twice in court, but these encounters had been failed attempts to come to a resolution on how to manage the remaining assets. The paperwork portion of determining beneficiaries was holding everything up – right along with the military, civilian, and veterans group fraud investigators. Marriage certificates, paternity tests, and gathering proof that everyone involved shared a legal right to the death money wasn’t paying anyone’s bills, though, and had only created strain on everyone...emotionally, financially, and otherwise. All four parties involved had finally ceased and desisted to allow the slow-moving government legal system time to do its job, as the fighting had only been adding fuel to the already burning fire. Despite his heroic and honorable death, her daddy really had been a rolling stone.
In her head, Lydia ran through the years of te
ars her mother had shed, the legal paperwork, and the few conversations they’d shared with Buck and his mother.
Buck covered his mouth over the microphone to protect his whisper. “Listen, I cannot have this conversation at work. We are understaffed and I’m pulling two duties because the last clerk slapped a client, which is exactly what I would like to do to our daddy this blessed day.” He pulled his hand away from the microphone and his mouth to take a breath, and then with a false energy, he shouted, “But if you would like me to patch you through to Mrs. Reed, I can surly do that for you, ma’am!”
Her voice quivered. “I want you to know that I hope we can be friends if I get the job.” She held her breath as concerning emotions scrunched her beautiful caramel features together, and then she closed her sweeping, almond-shaped eyes – the same inherited eyes that graced Buck’s face in a different shade of black.
He felt she was genuine from the sound of her voice.
Buck paused, his eyes gently rolling around the lobby, to the fireplace where a woman was swallowing paperclips. His eyes traveled again and stopped on a man who was getting loud and angry next to laughing twins. Again, he knew Lydia just wanted to know her half-sibling; there was no harm in that. He sighed. “You should look this place up first. Can you multi-task well; specifically, with human distraction? I know that is one question she may ask during your interview. It will make sense when you research this facility. Lord, I really need to go…” His deep, sweet voice trailed off for a second then, and in the background Lydia heard uncontrolled belly laughing and another man saying ‘nigga’ repeatedly.
“Oh my God, did that man just call you a nigger?”
Buck laughed, “No, he just called two German white ladies a nigger. Research this place and call back if you think you want to work here. Every day is an adventure.”
A month later, Lydia drove herself to the North Country – an hour and a half from Syracuse, twenty minutes from Canada – to work in a looney bin. The routines were difficult at first, but she was adaptable and a quick learner. Six and a half months after developing a bond between herself and her sibling, she’d blended into the dysfunctional family that was the Northern Lights community and become exceptionally proud of her hardworking sibling. Although this job was hectic, it is where they’d found family in each other and the other staff. When the Mexican arrived, she called Buck first because of this familial connection – however, she also knew the hired security guards from the clinical wing would take too long.
WELCOME TO NORTHERN LIGHTS
Relieved that the beautiful receptionist had waved him over, Ignacio broke free from the sisters to stand at the front of the desk. He glanced down to see if she had a name tag on her chest, but then he was distracted by movement from a hallway behind her. The oncoming man barreled through the space with long, intentional strides. There was a unique sway in his hips as he dangled the keys hanging from the tip of his extended finger. His strength, and the quick pace with which he rushed the lobby, prepared Ignacio to get out of his way, should he need to pass for any reason. Any reason at all. Behind Buck was an old security guard who could barely keep up with the pace let alone catch his breath. Through bursts of groveling and panting, the muscle-bound nurse bent down to enter a key code in a safe tucked under the front desk. He twisted one of his many keys in the safe’s second security device and it clicked open with full access granted. He removed a tin that he could practically hide within his huge hands, and then he stood upright to direct a comment at Lydia.
“We can’t be late on treatments, Ms. Lydia,” he said. His deep Barry White voice blended uncomfortably with a southern gay accent and stunned the newcomer, whose only reaction was a nonchalant shift of the bookbag hanging from his shoulder.
The receptionist tried not to be argumentative in front of Ignacio. “I know. I forgot to call you.” She smiled his way through embarrassment and Ignacio smiled back.
Buck looked at the stranger and double-locked the safe with the key and a pin code before walking to the laughing sisters on the couch. Hilda caught a glimpse of the tin and squealed like a child on Christmas morning. “Cannabis! Das ist the best medicine!”
The ladies laughed as they helped each other up and led the way to a back-room custom-designed for smoking medical marijuana. This, too, had a special key that only Buck possessed, which activated a German-designed filtration system. The old guard strolled past Ignacio with a strange side-eye stare then continued to walk to the smoking room where Buck was handling everything.
Lydia composed herself by tapping at her hair and adjusting her top before she refocused and pulled paperwork out for the man in front of her to read through. Once again, she tried to give her short block of instruction. “This is a welcome packet, but you need to specifically review the materials your sponsor has provided. Your stay is paid for; you just need to sign. Northern Lights cannot admit you officially until you have filled out all the forms and been seen by one of our intake counselors who’s on call. Once that’s completed, we will place you in a room. Do you have any questions, Mr. ...um?” She didn’t get a chance to ask his name or look at his file as a reminder before the twins swooped in to steal his lovely face away, just like cackling vultures.
Ute ran back to Ignacio and relentlessly pulled his arm toward the smoking room. The old guard didn’t even attempt to move her. In fact, he stepped out of her path. Buck tried to back her away and gently remove her fat fingers from Ignacio’s skin as the guard finally began to shout at Ute to let go.
The little woman was stronger than Ignacio had thought possible as she pulled him with her and the imposing nurse toward the smoking room. This is the moment Ignacio understood why the guard was reluctant to touch her in any way. Ignacio shouted over his shoulder, “Cheyez! But you can call me Ignacio. Nice to meet you, Lydia!” He’d said it louder than he’d intended. Lydia blushed through her caramel complexion and pretended to fiddle around with other paperwork on her desk as if it was important.
When Ignacio turned away, Lydia stopped shuffling paperwork to watch the eighty-something-year-old twins escort him from the receptionist desk while the head nurse tried to pry their fingers from his skin. She couldn’t say much to ease the incredibly awkward moment.
“Welcome to Northern Lights!” she nervously shouted as she stared at his Mexi-can ass. Every day was an adventure at Northern Lights, she thought – especially around these vineyard nuts.
MR. JENKINS’ STORY
Buck was the head nurse at Northern Lights. He was also the only one authorized to open the safe boxes at reception which held clients’ emergency medicines and treatments, should they need them. And he doubled as security due to his size, although Mr. and Mrs. Reed had never officially hired him for this particular position. And on top of all this, before Lydia had arrived, he’d sometimes run the reception desk, tracked and maintained nutritional schedules when the doctors were out, and pulled lots of orderly duties when the orderlies couldn’t be paged. Essentially, he played a major role in keeping things together on a daily basis. Mr. Reed always reminded him that he didn’t need to go beyond his stated duties, but Buck’s heart was in the facility – and so letting things go wasn’t an option. However, he did let it overwhelm him, and sometimes he lost track of what was happening...like any person would. Since Lydia had been hired, he’d relied on her to send him reminders. The arrangement had worked well, too, until she made her first mistake.
It happened, sure, but Buck was nearly an hour late administering a prescription because Lydia didn’t give him the courtesy reminder, and he was distracted with trying to calm an aggressive patient – the alternate personality of Mr. Jenkins.
In fact, Buck was in the craft room breaking up indecent acts when the twins were bombarding Northern Lights’ newest patient. The client he’d confronted was Samuel – an alternate personality of Mr. Jenkins, who suffered from Dissociative Identity Disorder. Had the hostile personality of Samuel not appeared, Mr. J
enkins would probably have been in Bible study with another patient.
Buck knew the background story of every patient in Northern Lights, but there was something about Mr. Jenkins’ splitting into such a difficult personality that tugged at his heartstrings. He was not a fan of the alternate personality, of course, but he never judged or disrespected the situation. He just did his job with his whole heart.
He knew that Mr. Jenkins had once been the pianist of a church, playing uplifting solos when the Holy Spirit took over his hands. Buck believed that, somewhere along the lines, he’d simply cracked and split apart, adding a bold and limitless personality to protect the delicate nature of the first. All Buck knew was that his own goal was to keep the peace between the opposite personalities so that they wouldn’t kill each other. Suicide watch for Mr. Jenkins was a constant concern for the staff.
The man’s life hadn’t always been this way. Before his ten-year residency at Northern Lights had begun, he’d been a mild-mannered gentleman.
He was respected throughout his little town in Ohio, having the kind of respect that resonated through all the residents, young and old. You could ask anyone about him and their response would turn into a conversation on positive personal quips. Most of the folks in town knew him from church, where he could play a mean piano to the hymns Pastor Martin chose. Some knew him from his volunteer work at the local Share N’ Care where homeless folks could get a box full of clothing for a quarter. The young children knew him as “Mr. Sam” from his time directing the choir at their summer camp and his piano lessons during the school year. He even played old ragtime songs for those who were still able to dance or wiggle in their wheelchairs in his aunt’s assisted living community. Mr. Jenkins was all about making people happy and uplifting spirits. His positivity and genuine nature was his projection to the world, and that’s how folks around town knew him.
