by Emma Janson
Having forgotten about the specialty clinic that was literally positioned at the far corner of the mansion, Lydia admitted that he was right. The security checked in with the main area, but the guards always returned to the corner. Buck pulled out his Carmex and applied a thin coat of the clear wax to his thick black lips, then popped them together before putting the tiny jar back into his pocket.
“Can you grab me his file, please? I am not walking near Mrs. Koontz or she will tell me the whole story of Sodom and Gomorrah for the sixteenth time, as if Momma never dragged me to church every Sunday! Nobody got time for that!” Buck snapped his fingers, but his hand was down to his side and pushed slightly behind his leg so that no one would see his moment of flamboyancy. He always tried to keep it professional.
When Lydia returned with a fresh, crisp manila folder that was lined with forms and signed documents clipped to a clipboard, he waved the new patient over with a calm and intentionally composed motion. Then to Lydia, he said again, “We don’t know his reason for being here. Remember that.”
YOUR ROOM
Ignacio, directed to follow the orderly, smiled as he walked to him. He was as tall and big as a man could be, but when he spoke it was strange indeed. His voice was extraordinarily deep, but it was also sweet, and there was no other way Ignacio could describe it.
“Mr...Cheese? Mr. Nacho Cheese?” Buck tried to read the name that Lydia had crossed through and hand-written “Nacio” above. He reread the text several times, but could hardly believe that someone would name a child ‘Nacho’ – especially if their last name was Cheese.
Ignacio corrected him, “Nah-see-yo in English, and my last name is Chey-yez. It’s actually Ignacio, but white people...non-Hispanics, I mean...have a hard time saying it, so I just shorten it.” He winked, but felt like an asshole after doing it.
Buck flipped through the paperwork again, this time carefully looking at the name. “I apologize, Mr. Cheese. Would you please follow me to your room, sir?”
Ignacio smiled at the innocence of the man’s second mistake. Buck turned to walk ahead of him. His hips swayed as he walked down the hall while speaking about the building. He missed seeing the stranger’s dimples appear as he smiled and tucked a lock of curls behind his ear.
“I’m Buck Lynn, the head nurse here at Northern Lights. The first three days of your stay here will be a part of an evaluation period. We ask that you first speak with your doctor before you sign up for any therapies. There is a schedule of mandatory consultations that you need to participate in before we can begin your journey to recovery. Meal times are posted on the inside of your door to your room, which is...room nineteen. A pretty clean and quiet room, if I do say so myself, Mr. Cheese. There are other rules and things you should know about this facility, but they are all spelled out for you in a packet on your bed. We will have to lock up your things in a locker at the end of your bed until the evaluation period is over, and we do apologize for this inconvenience, but it is for everyone’s safety here at Northern Lights. There is a lending closet where you can get essentials and hygiene products by the back library in the morning. A map is also provided for you in the packet…” Buck continued to talk, sway, and flip through the clipboard full of papers as he gave the briefing that he had effortlessly given so many times before. He spoke through it so fast that Ignacio had a hard time picking up the details, in between keeping up with the walking pace of a man whose gate was practically longer than he was tall. He wasn’t going to say anything about slowing down, though, because he wasn’t a chump. He was a Mexi-CAN. Ignacio giggled to himself at the thought.
“Are you okay, Mr. Cheese?” Buck Lynn seemed frustrated as he stopped his walk and turned to look down at the new client, who was giggling with the most adorable dimples on either side of his brown cheeks.
“It’s Chey-ez. Two syllables. I’m sorry, just tired from the long drive. Please continue.” The stranger had corrected the orderly, but was surprisingly accepting of things, considering that he had lived with name-botching his entire life.
Buck spun around like a diva to finish his speech as they continued to walk closer to Ignacio’s room. “We are a different kind of facility here. We are a less institutionalized environment than others because we believe in the power of self-promoted happiness, although we do utilize precautions, such as our newly installed keyless locks.” He touched a keyless push button pad under a passing door to point it out as he continued his brisk walking pace. When he reached a door with the gold numbers one and nine affixed to the outside of it, he stopped. “This is nineteen. The keypad is for staff and the traditional key and lock is for you. Don’t worry; no one will come in unless there is a serious issue – a health or safety concern.”
He used the key to unlock the door and held it open for Ignacio to walk through. Once inside, Ignacio scanned the room to welcome the simple and yet cozy set-up that was already comfortably lit. The room was about the size of your average American hotel room, with one queen bed, one nightstand, and an inset closet with hangers. Unlike with an average hotel, the hangers were permanently attached and, rather than a lamp on the nightstand, the lighting was provided by updated, recessed lights in the ceiling and two more in the wall above the bed. It wasn’t nearly as bright as a hospital triage room, but certainly set to a level where you could relax and then fall asleep. As the stranger took in the details of his room, Buck opened the lockbox under the bed, which was also affixed to the floor. “Mr. Chee-eese, this box is for your bag. I would recommend pulling out a clean pair of underpants at least before I lock it away. You won’t be able to open this for three days, minimum. It’s a security thing. Until then, there’s the lending closet I mentioned, with used clothing items, and the staff takes care of laundering. Everything is in the pamphlet.” His voice, was pleasant, honest, and welcoming – which hardly matched his build and intimidating physique. The southern spin on his words made each one sound sincere. Ignacio obliged his request without saying a word. Buck watched him pull out the recommended underwear and zip the bookbag shut before he locked the box and stood up to explain the lighting situation. “You will find that there are no light switches in the rooms.”
Ignacio scanned the walls and saw that these were indeed oddly missing.
“They are preset to this level throughout the day and will begin to dim at 10:00 P.M, until they are about the brightness of a candle in the room. This is also a safety feature, as well as a gentle reminder that bedtime is 10:30 P.M. If for some reason you need to adjust this schedule, please see the front desk.”
Buck took one last look around the room to see if he’d missed anything. He patted his pocket where the jar of Carmex was tucked away, but refrained from pulling it out for an unnecessary reapplication; it was just a habitual check to make sure he was being professional. As he walked to the door, Ignacio asked where the restrooms were and, apologetically, Buck answered his question while handing him his room key. “The men’s wash room is down the hall, across from the craft room. It’s equipped with three shower stalls, three toilets, urinals, and three sinks. There are no locks on bathroom doors. Don’t forget the lending closet, too. Some items can be signed out if you need them, but everything else will be provided by your sponsor. It’s all in the packet. Welcome to Northern Lights, Mr. Cheese.”
Buck shot him a smile and then nervously rushed out of the room and into the hallway, quietly mumbling as he wiped beads of sweat from his upper lip. He ran back to the craft room where he’d left Samuel and Ms. Beckler, which he’d almost forgotten about, what with the distraction of the new guy’s dimples.
INTERESTING CONFLICTS
When Buck arrived at the craft room door, he peered into the window as he pressed out the code which unlocked the keyless entry. Ms. Beckler was re-dressing near the craft table and wiping the now faded lipstick away from her face, but Samuel was gone. When Buck opened the door, though, he saw that Mr. Jenkins was mumbling near it while desperately trying to zip u
p his pants. His red eyes were shameful. “Tell this harlot – be gone! How many times do I have to go through this, Buck? I ‘pacifically asked you and the staff to keep her away!” He shook uncontrollably as he worked at his zipper to regain some of his dignity.
Buck’s lips had barely separated enough to begin speaking when Belinda yelled with her hands on her hips, “Oh shut up! I was about to orgasm when Mr. Holy-roly-poly asshole woke up and ruined my cum. You couldn’t have waited one more minute? Jesus Christ!”
Angered that she’d used the Lord’s name in vain, Mr. Jenkins shouted back, “Jesus ain’t got nothing to do with this!” He finally tugged at the zipper just enough to rip through a tangled clump of hair and close his pants. Then he stood up straight in an attempt to wipe the dripping sweat from his brow. “I told you, harlot, that this is rape! Can’t use my body without permission and I am the owner of my body! It’s a violation and an abomination to think that my alternate personality is your boyfriend.” He tugged at his ear which was ringing and slightly painful. The whole thing was giving him a headache. He pointed fiercely at Belinda with an accusing, damning stiffness. As his anger escalated, spit flew from his mouth. “You are insane, woman, so stay away from me – I rebuke you!”
Buck stepped between the man’s horizontally erect finger and Belinda to once again calm the waters between them. “Sir, calm down. Mr. Jenkins, I have done my job. I pulled Mr. Samuel away from her and he used choice words with me before lunging...um, ya’ll’s penis into her mouth, which puts me in a predicament because it was kind of consensual – even though it’s still against rules. We will deal with her for obliging your alter, but you have got to help us out here with him. Sir, when ya’ll get around each other...excuse me, when he gets around her, he is a bull.”
Buck stepped in to Mr. Jenkins’ space to gain some privacy as he hushed his voice. The smell of Belinda was all over him. “Now I know you do not want to hear this, sir, but I believe the two may be good for each other in a weird way. They calm each other, and Mr. Samuel’s outbursts aren’t as frequent. And let’s be honest, sir – despite your protests, you seem happier after ya’ll’s visits.”
Mr. Jenkins cracked the slightest smile, but then it faded and he yelled around Buck’s chest to the beautiful, soft woman by the craft table. “Temptress of the devil! Put her in the far corner – she’s a rapist!”
Belinda rolled her eyes. She crossed her arms over her breasts that were pushing the limits on the buttons of her shirt. Buck shook his head. “Sir, we are not going to put her in the clinical wing for consensual sex – well, technically, it was.” He followed up with a lot of reassuringly positive things to clear the air between them. Then he politely escorted Mr. Jenkins out into the hallway with a reminder that the lights would dim soon, and the suggestion that he take a nice hot shower before bed. Mr. Jenkins agreed that this would be beneficial and, slowly, he sadly walked his bowed legs toward his room for some towels and shower shoes.
When Buck turned to give Belinda a good scolding, she was standing four feet from him with her arms still crossed, trying to watch the actions on the other side of Buck’s chest. Her eerie smeared lipstick across her mouth caused his muscled frame to jump in his orthopedic nurse shoes.
“Ms. Beckler!” he yelped.
“Call me B.J.,” she insisted with a whore-red smile that might have looked lovely, had the lipstick stayed within the parameters of her lips. She winked at him as if he hadn’t caught the meaning of her preferred nick name.
“Ms. Beckler, I know you are infatuated with his alter, but ya’ll cannot continue this relationship, and frankly, I am tired of repeating myself. You are torturing that man.” Buck pointed down the hallway in the direction where the good Christian man had walked seconds ago.
Belinda waved her index finger in the air and rolled her neck with pointed sass. “That man is a pain in my ass. The one I was fucking is not that asshole. Crazy people get horny, too, Buck Lynn!”
Buck sighed. Realizing the situation was about to get heated, he pressed his index finger and middle finger against his forehead in frustration. When he flexed them into an unnatural backward bend, this simple motion seemed ten times more feminine than it was ever intended to be. Finally, he shook his index finger in her face and put his free hand on his hip like a true queen would – because even his stance on professionalism only lasted until a blonde bimbo like Belinda swirled her finger in his face. “Listen, missy, if you really cared for Mr. Samuel, you would make every effort to appreciate his host, who happens to be the primary and dominant personality! Then, maybe, one day the three of you could learn to live harmoniously. I just pray that the Lord bless your heart in another facility far from my aching head, though, because you drive me batshit.”
Buck straightened himself up again and looked around the craft room to ensure that no one had seen him lose his composure. “Unfortunately for you, I must add this to your never-ending log, and I am going to suggest the doctor take another look at your pill dosage.”
Belinda tried to open her mouth to speak in protest, but Buck put his finger to his own lips and closed his eyes while he shook his head no. She didn’t say a word over his unspoken request for her to be quiet. “You know I am right, Ms. Beckler, and you also know that these infractions will kick you out of Northern Lights despite your uncle’s monthly checks, so, ma’am, be nice to people.”
Belinda huffed and puffed as she ran her fingers through her long blonde hair while rolling her eyes. She adjusted the crotch of her pajama bottoms then, realizing that sex fluids were still uncomfortably drying there. She excused herself coyly to take a shower at the other end of the hall.
“Wait, Ms. Beckler. We received a new client today. After today’s shenanigans, you will be watched, so leave him alone! Being nice doesn’t mean harassing other patients for sex.”
She turned around in the middle of the hallway. “New dick? Well, if anyone is going to watch me shower, could you make sure it’s that new orderly, Charlotte? I like the way she subconsciously licks her lips when I am around. Can I tell you what I did to her last week?” She walked back to Buck, ready to tell her story even if he didn’t want to hear it.
“No, ma’am. Lord Jesus, Ms. Beckler, I am locking this for the night and going home.” He turned his back to her and put in the code for the now emptied craft room, then waited for a ticking noise before attempting to walk away.
She continued without much of an effort to hush her vulgar words. “I stuck my finger in my pussy and smeared it on the wrist of my other hand, and then I pretended she had a loose eyelash and wiped it away so intentionally that wrist was right next to her nose!” Belinda was smug.
Buck was disgusted. “Have you no shame?” he scolded as he tried to hide his horror underneath a steady stream of professionalism. After the beep of the locking mechanism chimed, he put his hand gently into the middle of the woman’s back and nudged her with respect to her room, which was four doors down from Ignacio’s. Belinda never stopped chattering.
“Dude, she smelled it! I mean, took a good whiff, then smiled at me! Oh Buck, she has some nice titties – I can tell through that shitty orderly uniform you guys wear!” As she got more excited, her voice went up in pitch, and Buck knew that soon this one sign would turn into a fiercely raging desire to fuck anything with a pulse. With knowledge of her previous episodes, he knew exactly how to handle this situation.
Buck immediately called Lydia at the front desk to deflate the escalating hormone walking next to him. He intentionally made no effort to hush his tone. “Please note in Ms. Beckler’s file: reevaluate dosage, mandatory escort, and leave a message for Charlotte to see me when she comes in for her shift tomorrow.”
Belinda’s jaw dropped as she stopped dead in the middle of the hallway with her stiff arms jutting straight down to the floor in a tantrum. “I fucking hate this place! If my boyfriend wasn’t here and I had a place to go and you fixed the fucking cracks in the sidewalks, I w
ould leave!”
Everything was moving too fast for Buck’s built-in southern timing, where things ran at a slower pace. But the benefits of his upbringing included his ability to throw back insults within seconds. “Ya’ll need to start focusing on rehabilitation for your disorder and stop sucking the dicks of men who don’t exist.” Buck’s jaw dropped, and his hand immediately slapped over his lips in an attempt to shut himself up. His cheeks began to fill with blood as he blushed with utter embarrassment; he had been raised around too many of his God-fearing aunts and a mother who praised the Lord on Sundays for such words to spill from his lips.
“Oh my Gawd, Buck Lynn, did you just ‘read’ me? I think professional, uptight Buck just let his guard down to – read me!” She squealed with laughter as her head shook, making her long locks of hair jiggle and bounce. “That was better than our stupid one-day-a-week open admittance – and you know how much I love the newbies!
An unexpected door opened four doors down; Ignacio poked his head out of his room to see what the commotion was. The two of them looked at the floating head peeking out of room nineteen.
Belinda turned back to Buck to quietly address him in a suddenly reserved, almost embarrassed manner. “Is that him? Oh, look at his hair. He is cute! Are you looking at his dimples? Did you see his dimples?” She turned and walked over to the new guy to introduce herself without regard to possible implications from Buck as she shook Ignacio’s hand through the crack in the door. Buck could hear her apologizing for the noise and giggling as she walked away a minute later, intentionally swaying her body in case the Mexican guy was still looking. She was happy with herself and felt sexy, too, until Buck regrettably informed her that she still had smeared whore lipstick all over her face and smelled like sex. Of course, he used better and politer southern words to describe it, but he was certainly thinking those words.
