by Emma Janson
When Belinda had finally tucked herself away in her room, Buck walked back to the main hall and front desk. He had yet to check up on the twins and make sure the tin was secured before he could begin doing his nightly checks and finally go home. Even though a majority of his time was spent at the facility, he truly loved his work. A bonus, of course, was that helping the residents paid the bills; it was both financially and personally rewarding. Sadly, his love life had taken a toll for it in the past because he had opted to stay the night in the staff room for various reasons and emergencies. His partner at the time just hadn’t understood his undying dedication to the mansion, and neither did his half-sister, who had left on time after locking up the pot tin and letting the twins out. Yes, she did what was asked of her, but the keys were sprawled out as if they’d been thrown onto the reception desk and the light was still on in the smoking room.
Buck’s own finesse with the things he was responsible for displayed an undeniable compassion for the facility. Lydia’s lack of pride had to have been something she’d inherited from her white half, because his mother and their father didn’t act that way.
After securing the keys and turning off the light, Buck ran through the list of his nightly checks. He somewhat forgot about his terrible day and the many proclamations he’d made about not getting paid enough. He was sort of happy to be there, no matter what.
After he secured the front door and initiated the security cameras, he felt the pride he’d been taught to take in his work. And as he heard the twins cackling from some far corner of the building, he thought how true it was that every day was an adventure here at Northern Lights, and how every person was there for their very own reasons.
MAGGIE KOONTZ
Maggie Koontz, twenty-five-year-old resident of Northern Lights, had always been small for her age; malnourished children usually are. Almost an image of Snow White, she had dark chocolate brown hair and blue eyes that were complimented by a natural red coloration in her lips – beautiful, had she been a healthy weight. Her arrival at Northern Lights had come months before Ignacio’s, and her story was just as strange.
In the beginning, her young parents considered abortion because they knew, at 13 and 15 years of age, they could not take care of a baby, but their families insisted that God would make things right if they led Christian lives and asked for forgiveness for the sins they’d indulged in.
They tried, but desperately failed.
Her underage parents didn’t exactly intend to neglect her, but they lived in squalor and could barely afford to keep the lights on – let alone heat the trailer every time she complained that she was cold. Not that they ever heard her complain since they were usually working minimum-wage, low-end jobs in a one-light town that they lived outside of and regularly stole power from. They put Maggie in school long enough for her to learn a few things, and then pulled her out when educators and board members began to ask about her tiny frame and why she never ate a proper lunch. As a result, she became shy to hide the fact that she had gaps in education – she didn’t understand some words or concepts that others clearly understood.
Despite her learning disabilities, Maggie worked hard and, along with prayer, overcame her circumstances to earn her high school diploma. She also worked on being more social by getting involved in a local church youth program where she sang hymnal solos in the choir. A year later, the nineteen-year-old, blue-eyed beauty was married and lost her virginity to the choir director who was only a few years older than her.
The young couple was happy together, and equally yoked in faith under the eyes of the Lord. He loved her even after he caught her swallowing paperclips, slowly and methodically, from a fresh box of one hundred. He confronted his beautiful wife about it, too, only to learn she had done it for as long as she could remember, but didn’t know why. She also confessed she had been indulging in eating one un-cleaned pebble a day from a fish tank in an office next to her cubical at work.
Together, they prayed.
The Lord took her urges away for about five days – before she began to deeply desire the taste of the change in the bottom of her purse. She secretly scrubbed a few pennies and dimes with an old toothbrush, meticulously dried them under the hand blower at work, and placed them in a sandwich bag which she then tucked away in a zipped side pocket of her work blazer. Her excuse for this was that the clean change was supposed to serve as a reminder of the toxins she had been putting into her body. She’d come up with the lie as she was drying the coins, and polishing them just a little beyond dry with a paper towel. Yet, for the love of her life, she tortured herself by letting the sixth day pass without eating the change, as he had requested and prayed about her habits. Even as the coins clinked and ticked inside of her blazer like a tempting metallic jingle, she struggled, but remained true to her word.
On day seven, the Lord must have rested. She inevitably couldn’t hide from the truth of consumption, no matter the power of prayer. While her husband slept, her brain throbbed over her compounded craving for the shiny metal objects that she had somewhat successfully set aside. The desire to eat grew stronger and more uncontrollable. Trying to push it aside while she rested in bed and stared at the ceiling was next to impossible, and it almost made her desire stronger. These guilty thoughts made her mouth water while she struggled to keep her hands away from pleasing herself. Part of the connection had always been the smell and taste of minerals within each item, but there was also a deeper, unexplainable emotional attachment to the items that she wanted to fill her belly with. Secretly, there was an element of sexuality to eating coins, but Maggie never understood it.
Coins and pebbles were satisfying, but they were not the only non-edible items that she consumed. Paperclips and change held their own special taste and texture in comparison to wall hanging nails and the random keys she collected. Metal was a buffet of flavors for her, and each item was a little entre. Her diet also included buttons, dirt, safety pins, thimbles, sand, and a myriad of other inedible and non-nutritional items. When she consumed them, she experienced the same relieved sensation that smokers had to feel when they lit their first smoke of the day. She was proud that she’d never picked up that nasty habit, though.
For the next four years of marriage, she lied and hid her destructive eating disorder. At twenty-three, however, she became careless and came close to hospitalization for numerous bouts of severe constipation and sharp abdominal pains. Each time she was taken to the doctor, though, she refused treatment, declined x-rays, and persuaded her husband that she just needed a good laxative.
While convincing herself that cutting back on swallowing these items was her first step to recovery, she was inadvertently channeling her compulsions into other obsessive-compulsive behaviors. On any given day, anyone could have stopped by Maggie Koontz’s home and eat from the floor if they desired, it was so clean. After work and on weekends, she couldn’t control her new-found desires to clean. When the bathroom was spotless and the major items in her kitchen had been scrubbed inside and out, this including the coils on the back of her refrigerator, she began to remove unnecessary items from her home because she felt they collected dust and harbored germs.
Six-and-a-half years into their marriage, her husband discovered that his lovely home was missing every curtain, but he didn’t initially panic. He figured Maggie was washing everything or spring cleaning, but then she never put them back up – even months later. It wasn’t his favorite look for the inside of their home, but he was okay with it as long as the blinds were in place. With that compromise in place, Maggie went on to remove all knick-knacks from tabletops and books from shelves so that she could donate them to the local Salvation Army, so that he actually commended her rather odd gesture – as it was for the greater good, and in line with being a good Christian...despite his home’s newly stark appearance.
More months passed, but her compulsion didn’t stop. Finally, Mr. Koontz had to draw the line when he came home to neatly orga
nized boxes of artwork, tapestries, antiques, photos, and other wall hangings that were surrounded by naked walls and discolored paint in the spots where they had once hung. Now the home they had built together had become a shell of what it once was, and he was no longer comfortable living in a house that appeared to be tidy enough to sell.
He confessed his concerns to his wife, again, and together, they prayed for answers.
At 2 A.M. one Sunday morning when Maggie was twenty-five years old, her husband caught her for the last time – eating the dirt she had been collecting from her cleaning sprees out of a torn-open vacuum bag on the living room floor. She’d separated the lint and hair into neat piles that she disregarded. The remaining sand and smaller sediment from the bottom, she was scooping into her mouth with the knife she’d used to open the bag. With the lower half of her face riddled with sludge and her red lips peeking from beneath it, she tried to explain herself through heartbreaking tears.
As she cried, she tried to breathe normally through the dirt and spit that was filling the spaces between her teeth. According to her, God had come to her in a dream in the form of a bird. It was black and white in coloration and had a long tail with shorts wings. It squawked to her about seeking refuge in a place of healing. As she begged the Lord to explain what that meant, it flew away. She told her husband that she’d been up for the next hour on their home computer, researching what it could possibly mean. When she came across the homepage for a behavioral health facility, it all made sense – and yet, it upset her to think that God wanted her there. She didn’t feel it was where she belonged and, to make it worse, she didn’t understand some of the words on the website. That had been when she’d lost her composure and ransacked the house for something to ‘eat’ – which was how she’d ended up on the floor, shoveling vacuum cleaner dirt into her mouth with a knife.
Maggie’s tiny frame slumped next to the pile of hair on her left and the half-eaten dirt at the bottom of the vacuum bag on her right. The kitchen knife used to slice open the bag was shimmering next to it as she continued to cry and talk with muddy saliva and darkened teeth, all of it looking very reminiscent of what one might have seen oozing from a zombie’s mouth. “I went to the office to think, and then, I knew I had to go to this place and let Him lead the way back to salvation, but I feel like this is a test and I am Abraham, conflicted with killing my only son.” She sobbed, spraying black sludge onto her husband’s bare feet.
“Am I then Isaac, the son you were told to kill?” He took one slow step away from his wife.
“No! I interpreted His message as leaving you behind, so I may save myself and our faithful union.” She lost composure and began breathing heavily from her mouth that spewed bits of wet dirt onto their clean floor. She then buried her face into her hands and cried so hard that she began to hyperventilate.
Her husband, in fully buttoned top and bottom pajamas, dropped to the floor to sit across from her and placed his right hand on her left shoulder. “Then why do you cry at God’s plan?”
Into her hands, she mumbled, “I don’t want to go.” She struggled to take a breath from the cracks of her fingers so that she could look up to her husband with her blue pools of sadness. “But then I knew I had to, so I took my ring off to give it back to you and explain everything after waking you, but…” Tears continued to fall down her face, and then past her mouth and cherry lips that were caked with dirt. A new wave of hysteria overwhelmed her as emotions distorted her next sentence. “But I didn’t make it out of the office, and I ate it. I ate your ring!” She succumbed to the new bout of squealing and tears as she threw herself backward onto the floor in total submission. Dirty face and all, she lay there, arms spread, asking the Lord and her husband to forgive her.
He moved the half-eaten bag of dirt to the side and slid the knife under the nearby couch before lying next to his wife to stroke her arm in comfort. “We should pray for strength.”
Together, they talked between piles of hair and half-eaten vacuum waste in an empty house, void of personality and children. It was a sad, uncomfortable place where the extent of their affection was a stroke on her arm between wiping a few tears away with the sleeve of his pajama shirt. The filth around her mouth remained there as they prayed.
The next week, she admitted herself into the acclaimed Northern Lights behavioral health facility in upstate New York. Upon her arrival, the young receptionist behind the desk was welcoming. Maggie was pleasantly surprised with the friendly and happy atmosphere the mansion provided, too. Two chatterbox twins helped ease her fears. While Maggie was talking to them, the clerk interrupted to explain that she was new and that she had to get clarification on some procedural things. Maggie was patient as she continued to chat and laugh with the twins, who insisted she meet another patient who was a man with her same beliefs.
Meanwhile, a tall orderly came to the desk in khakis and a white scrub top to make a call from the phone at the desk, and then left. A huge bundle of keys, that were attached at his hip, swayed with his walk. Maggie immediately felt that the Lord had led her to him, so she could free him from his obviously homosexual lifestyle, and so she knew she would take it upon herself to speak with the nicely built man at every chance she was allotted in the future.
By the time the lovely attendant gathered the paperwork and walked over to the waiting area, Maggie had had quite enough of the German twins’ insane laughter. She politely excused herself to follow the receptionist into a cozy office that was filled with books and antiques. The beautiful clock behind the woman’s desk was particularly wonderful with its detailed woodwork. Maggie immediately tried to wipe a few items off with her monogrammed hanky, even before Mrs. Reed invited her to have a seat.
“Welcome to Northern Lights. I’m Jill Reed. My husband and I own this facility. My apologies, but what is your name again, please? I’ve seen so many clients today.” She respectfully offered her hand for a shake, but Maggie was busy dusting the things on the woman’s desk and was barely audible when she spoke her own name.
Jill pushed away a file from the top of another to see her name. Then Mrs. Reed watched her for another second with an opened hand, but finally continued to speak when she realized that Maggie was far more interested in dusting than formal introductions. “The prescreening doctor has informed us of your situation. That God told you of this place. But...Mrs. Koontz, the Lord almighty does not pay earthly debts. There is a process here.” Jill picked up her pen to write. Her strawberry blonde hair with its random silver streaks had turned completely grey over the years since the grand opening of the mansion, but she maintained an appropriate shoulder-length that was fitting of a first lady.
Maggie stopped dusting to sit, and grabbed the arm rest of the chair with her ringless hand. Jill opened the correct folder with her name at the top and began writing notes while Maggie spoke.
“I eat things like keys, dirt, paperclips, nails, pebbles; you get the idea. I’ve been doing it all my life and I don’t know why. I’ve asked God to help me, but I believe my faith isn’t strong enough, and that’s why He is testing me and sending me here, away from my faithful husband to be healed by your medicine.”
Mrs. Reed put her palms together in a motion of prayer and rested the tips of her connected index fingertips on her lips. She tried very hard to seem professional and sincere. “Mmm hmmm, I see. Maybe there is something we can work out.”
Maggie blinked.
Mrs. Reed corrected herself and reiterated, “We don’t accept checks from God, although we do allow free practice of your faith in this building as long as it doesn’t interfere with the positive emotional and behavioral progress of others.”
After Maggie blinked again in silence, Jill restated her point. “You can do Bible study here.”
The clock on the wall chimed at the top of the hour. Jill, a little frustrated with how things were going, finally suppressed her desire for an answer fitting the situation. A smile began to change the harshness of
her age lines around her mouth. She wrote some things down on her notepad and flipped through a folder she’d already reviewed. “No suicidal tendencies or aggressive behaviors...some mild learning disabilities that you overcame on your own to get your high school diploma – good job on that, by the way. Okay, there may be another option we can look into to provide you treatment.” She pushed her chair away from the desk and picked up Mrs. Koontz’s file to tap it on the table before she stood. “Pro-bono...that means free. I’ll make some calls, so I think you will be fine. Meanwhile, we already have a room for you.”
Maggie simply shook her head as Mrs. Reed’s smile intensified.
Three months later, her eating habits were controlled with a diet rich in iron and with a daily vitamin C tablet for absorption. A steady turn-around time on open-admission day patients allowed her to spread the word of God, too, which made her very happy and improved her socialization skills by proxy. She’d particularly enjoyed the antics of the Schmidt twins since learning of their disorder from her group sessions and their conversations filled with laughter in the vineyard. She felt a kin-ship with them, but it was only because she didn’t understand their backhanded humor and the sarcasm communicated through their smiles.
The nickname they gave her, Kaput Koontz, actually meant ‘broken’, but Maggie thought it was cute. No one clarified the meaning to her because she was a genuinely nice person, and breaking her spirit was the last thing anyone wanted to do. The twins also played on her educational level by hiding behind their heavy accents to call her Kaput Cuntz. Her ignorance of this fact made her a happy woman...until the Mexican arrived. He had only been at the facility a few days when he disrupted her improvements without ever knowing of his impact on a tiny, malnourished woman with a strange eating disorder. The man was completely unaware of his influence, in fact, but she still blamed him for meddling with her healing progress. As much as she found issue with the Mexican, though, she never let on that it was a problem and went about her days like she always had.
