by Emma Janson
BROTHERLY LOVE
On the three-month anniversary of Ignacio’s admittance, Buck snuck his brother by proxy a Mexican dish that he’d made himself from an online recipe. It was in a plastic container that he slipped between two clean towels which he then hand-delivered to Ignacio’s room. Buck, a man of rules and discipline, would never do this for someone who wasn’t a friend about to be released, but he felt sure that no harm would come from this one-time charitable dish of deliciousness.
When he finally made it inside of Ignacio’s room without anyone taking notice, he stood at the door to share the surprise that was balancing on one hand between towels. “I know ya’ll are doing your final evaluations this week for release, but I wanted to do this for you because you are a really good friend. Ta da!” He pulled the top towel off to reveal the dish as he lifted his moisturized lips from ear to ear. His heart racing with excitement, his eyes twinkled with elation as Ignacio’s eyes ignited upon seeing what it was. Ignacio immediately grabbed the container to lift the corner for a wonderful first sniff. His face relaxed with a smile as he took in a long deep breath of rice, beans, chicken, spices, and other ingredients; he had missed that smell of delicious food from home.
“Thanks, man. It smells wonderful! I can’t believe you did this yourself.” He backed up to the bed to sit on its edge as Buck held out a plastic knife and fork set for him to use – because he always thought of everything, and this occasion was no different.
Ignacio knew it would never be as tasty as his grandmother’s home cooking, but it was the thought that counted. He set the lid on the comforter and began taking big bites after offering some to Buck, whose face had softened with pride. “Oh, I ate too much as I was cooking it, so I need to watch this figure or it will go straight to my ass. I never knew Mexican food was so good!” his deep voice boomed through a soft southern accent. He put his free hand on his hip and flipped the clean towels over his shoulder with a gently feminine motion.
Ignacio shoveled the dish into his mouth as he unsuccessfully tried to compliment the cook while food spilled out from the edges of his lips. Eventually, he gave up and just shook his head up and down while displaying an upward thumb. After finally devouring the contents of the container, Ignacio wiped his face on the back of his hand as he joked about having a beer to finish out the meal.
Buck, in all his infinite wisdom, pulled two imported bottles from the waistband of his pants. “It’s probably a little warm from my body heat, but surprise! I figured, since I have been breaking the rules with you, I might as well go all out. Seriously, you tell anyone, and I’ll have to kill you.”
Ignacio smiled at his comment, but was taken aback at the glimpse he’d gotten of Buck’s defined stack of abdominal muscles when the man had lifted his orderly shirt to retrieve the bottles. They compelled him to make a comment as he wrapped is hand around the chilled neck of one beer. “Damn, man, what work-out video are you watching? That shit is insane! I’m toned, but I couldn’t get definition like that in my gut if I paid for it. There is steel under all of that cotton candy.” He twisted the cap off the beer and swigged it hard before belching.
Buck joked, “It’s a black thang.” Ignacio rolled his eyes before they laughed together as each drank from his own bottle. Then Buck joined Ignacio on the edge of the bed.
When the alcohol neared the bottom of the bottles and the joking began to taper to an end, Ignacio confessed to Buck his appreciation for everything. “Thanks for the food, man. The beers…” He held his bottle up and tapped Buck’s in a simple toast. They both welcomed the clicking noise as a reminder of better times outside of Northern Lights. “Some days here were rough and you were there for me. No, no, really. It wasn’t just your job, man. You made sure I was okay and really cared about me as a person, no matter what. I want to officially recognize that. You know. Maybe after I’m out, we could get together some time. I’d kick it at a gay bar with you.”
“Why would I take you to a gay bar?” Buck pretended to be sincere as he let his deep voice roar through a softly southern, melodic tone.
Ignacio laughed and slugged his buddy’s arm. “Shut up. Thanks for everything, though; I mean that shit from the bottom of my heart.” He looked over to Buck again, who was suavely shaking his head as if to say, ‘You’re welcome’ without saying a word.
Buck was deeply touched, but he wasn’t about to shed a tear in this awkward moment in front of his buddy. He swallowed the last sip of beer to hide the fact that he was choking down unmanly emotions and looked downward to stare at the carpet. It was no secret, though, that he was sad to see his friend go.
Ignacio set his empty beer bottle on the floor and called Buck’s name. When the security guard turned to answer, Ignacio reached out and pulled Buck’s beer-flavored lips onto his own. Both tightened every muscle in their bodies when the physical link between them created indescribable bursts of energy. Ignacio gave Buck a moment to relax before engaging in a harder and more passionate kiss, sliding his lips over the Carmex that covered Buck’s.
Buck was lost in the moment and let it all happen, as it felt so right to be kissing with such devotion. Their lips softened, yet pressed firmly into each other’s as they began to breathe heavily through their noses in a biological display of swelling arousal. A heat began to wrap each of them in its warm embrace as the kiss continued to develop into something more than instant gratification. When Ignacio slipped the first gentle tongue lick into Buck’s mouth, it seemed to awaken him from a surreal fantasy that he’d secretly wanted more than anything. With wide, apprehensive eyes, though, Buck pushed Ignacio away with his two massive hands. Their lips unlocked with an audible wet pop before he asked, “What the fuck are you doing?” while wiping saliva off his mouth with the back of his hand. He repeated, “What the fuck are you doing?” in a whisper, as if someone could hear from the hall.
For a second, Ignacio was still trapped and hovering in the moment with transferred Carmex glistening around his lips, and eyes that had transformed into something so seductive that he was barely able to see through them. Not even the shove backward had pulled him from the trance he was in. Then, as clarity began to sweep over the glassy raw state of stimulation in his face, he was suddenly aware of what he had done and felt uncomfortably embarrassed. His hand immediately covered his mouth as he wiped and tugged at his lips with eyes as big as saucers. All he could manage to say was ‘shit’ over and over again in awkward repetition while Buck gathered the contraband he’d brought in in preparation to leave.
When Buck reached the door, he whispered forcefully through his perfectly aligned teeth, “I like you and I know that you already know that, but I am not your experiment, Ignacio! I’m going to go before this gets any more uncomfortable than it already is.”
“I’m sorry, man. I never...that...like that…” Ignacio pleaded with him, even while still incredibly insecure about what had just taken place, but he stumbled over his words like he was stumbling through a massive pile of hurricane-whipped thoughts.
Buck angrily tried to contain himself the best way he knew how by attempting to turn on the professionalism that always pulled him out of sticky situations. After gingerly shoving the empty bottles back into his pants, he stood up straight at the door, holding the towels and container like a proud waiter. “Believe it or not, this is not the first time this has happened to me,” he lied. “This is after all a mental health facility and I have been a little too accommodating with this friendship. I apologize if I led you on. We can forget this happened and move forward so you can focus on your upcoming release.” He turned to reach for the door handle, but Ignacio called out his name to stop him. Buck held his position for a moment more to at least hear what he was about to say, listening without turning his head to look at his friend.
“I don’t want to forget it, man. You ignited something in me and I feel whole for the first time in my life.” Ignacio didn’t dare approach Buck because he was so nervous, but more ho
rrified at the thought of possible rejection.
Buck removed his hand from the door handle to hold up a long, firm finger, which stopped Ignacio from saying anything else as he bit the inside of his cheek with closed eyes. The muscles in his jaw tensed and hardened. He took a few steady breaths to look at Ignacio, who was now standing helplessly at the edge of the bed. His hair swirled in different shades of darkened waves, highlighted by gleaming light. His dimples, barely noticeable under the sad face he projected, didn’t distract from his heartfelt brown eyes. His lips, still swollen from their shared kiss, begged for another. Buck inhaled deeply, and then, with conviction, said what Ignacio needed to hear and not what he wanted to hear. “You’re not gay. And I don’t want to lose my job.”
Buck rolled the container between the towels and walked out of the room before Ignacio could respond.
What he’d thought was sadness when Lydia had left without a trace wasn’t remotely close to the deep devastation that sank into Ignacio’s soul when Buck walked out of the room. All he could do was submit to the rejection on his bed and try not to cry as a longing he had never felt before warmed over him in wavelike motions from an unknown internal source. He inevitably succumbed to the knot in his throat and shed some much-needed tears before trying again to pretend he was a real man, toughened by life. A week away from release, a sane man was broken.
BEND OR BREAK
Ignacio struggled with his sexuality though he tried regaining control of the things he thought he knew. Once he discovered unexpected comfort in Buck’s presence and feelings it was like a page in a storybook that he couldn’t unread. The only hope for relief was his upcoming release. He found solace in the bittersweet idea of going home.
It was merely days before his official discharge was to take place, when Ignacio’s therapists extended his stay – indefinitely. Just when he’d thought he could leave the turmoil of conflicting sexualities, he was blindsided and trapped in the very place he’d initially been free to leave. Between the researcher’s notes and the counselors, it had been decided that he needed more therapy; therefore, his release was being denied. They could do things like this when you were sponsored, a downfall to the lies that had gotten him there. The other patients used colorful words to explain it – calling him a government-funded wacky jack – and Ignacio didn’t argue. He’d spent years convincing others that he was crazy so that he could find out the truth about his mother, and the fact was, it had worked...and now he was beginning to believe his own lies. Maybe he was insane.
This was the pivotal moment where Ignacio began to break, and while inside of a converted mansion on a vineyard. He rubbed his eyes profusely as if he had an uncontrollable tick. His inner monologues became mumbles and conversations that the other patients thought were meant for them. Something was troubling him, and everyone saw his indescribable change from being in control to – not. What should have been a happy, uplifting time of release had gone horribly wrong, but none could have guessed the truth of things. Even Maggie Koontz began to pray for him during her Bible study sessions with Mr. Jenkins.
Ignacio didn’t want to admit or acknowledge any kind of homosexual tendency. Especially since he had never in his life thought himself gay or held any interest in a lifestyle that was so unfamiliar to him. If gay people knew at a young age, shouldn’t he have known? His brain couldn’t wrap itself around this concept, that he might be finding out now, and consequently shut down every time he tried to understand it. Like when a computer went into sleep mode after idling for designated minutes.
It was five days after he and Buck had shared their first kiss when Ignacio began to black out. At first, he thought he was just tired, as he’d felt less and less rested. Then he began to doze off and wake up on the other side of rooms. Increasing emotional outbursts invaded his peaceful moments. He found that his anger was barely under control during civil conversations.
Samuel was the one who discovered that the Mexican could no longer maintain his composure when provoked. Of course, he was never one to have a civil conversation.
They were in the lobby when Ignacio engaged in his first physical altercation. It happened to be the day when he’d originally been supposed to leave Northern Lights. What onlookers heard was Samuel shouting first. His bowed legs spread more than shoulder-length apart to create a more intimidating stance. That was the intention, at least, but his average height and average frame didn’t lend themselves to the idea. He didn’t realize that his ego was far more powerful than his posture.
The other scattered patients remained close to the perimeter walls. The centrally placed welcome desk – recently occupied by a new, gangly, pimple-faced clerk – was filled with two orderlies ready to intervene, but one of them was close to retirement and didn’t want to make a move unless it was absolutely necessary, which slowed them both from reacting. Meanwhile, Ignacio, matching Samuel’s average height, stepped forward into the space of this mental patient who was currently occupied by his highly aggressive alternate personality.
“Faggot…” the alter taunted him.
Ignacio swung his right balled fist so hard and fast that, if you weren’t paying attention, you would have missed it. Even the onlookers were stunned. When his knuckles met the left side of Samuel’s jaw, the force of it popped open his mouth and shot a set of partials across the lobby. They flew through the air in what seemed to be slow motion. Ignacio, the other patients, and the orderlies behind the reception desk watched the teeth finally land in a potted geranium next to the bay window. Then Ignacio felt dizzy, and a sudden opaque hue blanketed his eyes. Those trying to keep their distance were embarrassed for Samuel, who whipped his head back to its neutral position while fondling the empty spaces with his tongue. Some onlookers cupped their hands over their own mouths in shock while others inhaled air through their teeth.
Just as Samuel was about to say something in the dramatically intimidating way that he favored, Ignacio swung again, this time in wild anger and with a high-pitched scream as he missed completely. It felt as if Samuel had taken two steps back, he was so far from the mark. The swing put a spin on his body that caused Ignacio to lose his balance, though, so that down he fell in the mansion lobby, crumbling clumsily to the floor like a fainting harlot.
Samuel kicked him, then bent down to antagonize him with words that came pushing fiercely through the gaps between his teeth. “Ya did thith to your mothafucking thelf, bitch.” He bent down further, hovering over the Mexican who was now in a defensive pose on the floor with his wild curls covering his eyes. Samuel slapped the back of his ashy hand across Ignacio’s face so hard that it whipped his head sideways.
Spit initially spewed out of Ignacio’s mouth from the impact, but his lips began to ooze blood as he lay there embarrassed to move – feeling small, angry, and out of control...like he was losing his mind. The truly unfortunate part of this whole situation wasn’t the pathetic and almost whimpering person he had become, either. It was that the lies of his illness, or of his falsified mental state, had caught up with him three-fold. He had acted many kinds of crazy for the sake of a monthly paycheck, but this was the first time he truly felt the insanity at all, let alone deep within his core. Through watery eyes, he scanned the room for familiar shoes. He hoped beyond belief that Buck did not witness his loss of composure. His concern for his love was in deep conflict with the projected assumptions that Buck alone had put him in this position, but he couldn’t help that. He didn’t want to give in to loving a man, either, but it was happening, and it was breaking him down in a way he’d never expected. Dizziness came and went in waves before he finally closed his eyes to make the world stop spinning.
The surrounding patients and staff near the walls began whispering to each other. The pimple-faced clerk behind the reception desk pushed an emergency button, unaware that it would call for the very person Ignacio didn’t want to see. And even though Ignacio had no intentions of getting up, the orderlies were ending the fight with rest
raints.
Mr. Jenkins, an innocent victim of his disorder, cried as they clicked the wrist cuffs into place, and then he walked shamefully wherever they led him.
The witnesses zipped their eyes from him to the clerk that was biting his fingertips before ending their stares with Ignacio, the sissy Mexican who was crying on the floor. The display of violence they’d witnessed was clearly just the tip of the emotional iceberg.
WAR & PEACE
A few days after recovering from the fight, Ignacio’s blackouts were taking over in longer durations. He kept his secret hidden even from Buck. However, at Northern Lights no secret was completely safe, and sometimes insanity was the way secrets got discovered.
In the bedroom mirror, Belinda brushed through her long blonde hair as she fantasized about sex. Her prescribed pills were not effective at curbing her appetite for it, like the doctors claimed they should. As an addict, she thought about her vice nonstop between fixes. Soothing herself from her addiction usually produced obsessive compulsive behaviors which tonight had manifested in repeated, long strokes of her hairbrush. Standing in front of the mirror, her blazing bright blue eyes were catatonic and emotionless. She stared back at her reflection as her hand pushed the bristles into her hair and then pulled down. It was three in the morning, nearing the hour when the cameras in the hallway swung back to record their designated lane. Between spins, the area outside of the bathroom was not monitored. And beyond the door, she could hear muted footsteps which she assumed were from her boyfriend, seeking a late-night blowjob. When the footsteps passed, and the sound faded, she curiously pulled herself away from her mesmerizing reflection to inspect the hall and its occupant. Down it, she discovered Buck Lynn, the muscle-bound, insanely tall orderly who was gliding as quietly as he could over the carpet to the Mexican’s room, where he then used his master emergency key to gain access.
