by Emma Janson
The depth of Mr. Reed’s understanding was indescribable. He missed his son.
Jack finally submitted to his emotional state and showed the intense compassion he felt for Buck. “In our defense, they were volatile when they arrived. Buddy, that boy built a world around him that didn’t exist; a whole college, for Christ’s sake. A fucking make-believe world where he thinks he admitted himself into an institution! It’d almost be laughable if it wasn’t the fucking truth. Do the right thing and end this.” A wave of dizziness washed over his body. “I need to go in now before I fall asleep on this bench,” he said quietly. “Good night.” Jack patted Buck’s back again and then rested his hand on his broad shoulder, squeezing it in a sincere, fatherly, and yet distant and respectable, manner even though he wanted to linger. “He can’t love you back because he is fading away, and once he is gone, he will be no more.” Jack paused and tried to speak again, but it came across quietly, his words hidden beneath drunken mumbles and emotional distress. “The pain of the fade is a nightmare.”
Jack couldn’t stay any longer. He couldn’t. Abruptly, he began to walk toward the mansion before the urge to turn and run back for a hug confused them both. What he needed to do now was have a private moment alone. He turned to walk backward as he shouted, “I’m glad we talked! I’m an open door if you need to talk again, okay, buddy?” His effort to make it seem as if the conversation hadn’t disturbed him only proved the opposite.
From the bench, Buck assured him that he would confide in him again if he needed to, and that he would do the right thing by ending the insane relationship he had gotten himself into.
As Jack strolled closer to the back door of the mansion, though, he didn’t worry about Buck’s decision. He knew that his exemplary employee would always be on the upside of the morale swing. He and Jill had made sure to teach their son, Jason, all that they could about right and wrong before he’d split into his alternate psyche – Buck Lynn. Jack knew first-hand that alternate personalities could not love you in the way you wanted them to because they did not exist...even if they had been around for eleven years. The pain of the fade lasts a lifetime if you let it. He genuinely understood the desperate state Buck was in, to reconnect with someone like himself. Normalcy in life, to build such connections, was all any human desired to be truly happy. But he and Jill could only imagine its depth. Their experience of trying to reconnect with their son had officially begun twelve years earlier, when Jason had faded and left his body, but filled it with a personality they didn’t know. Jack Reed walked away, proud of his son, no matter his sexual orientation or the color of his imaginary skin. Dissociative Identity Disorder, he thought, is a mother fucker.
DIRTY CHANGE
After unsuccessfully trying to have a conversation with Ute and Hilda Schmidt about the state of affairs at Northern Lights, Maggie Koontz was frustrated. They couldn’t share her anxieties or console her with concern and understanding. They only offered giggles at her simpleton explanations and laughter when she asked them what ‘obstruction of justice’ meant. As she passed the receptionist desk, proceeding to the first hall towards her room, the twins, seated in the bay window of the lobby, once again called her ‘Kaput Cuntz’ amidst unsuccessful attempts to stifle the volume in their voices. In return, Maggie began to understand that she truly had no friends at Northern Lights, and desperately missed her husband – not to mention that she now suffered from the knowledge that her free six-month treatment wasn’t curing her guilty eating habits.
Maggie slid her hand discretely into the pocket of her thrift store corduroy pants and pulled out a fifty-cent piece coin that she’d found on the floor near the vending machines. She shifted her eyes to the right and left to ensure that no one in the lobby or the hallway in front of her was looking before she put her hand to her mouth, just as if she were stifling a cough. She slid the coin from between her fingers, placing it flatly onto her tongue as if to take Holy Communion.
A warm, tender hand on her shoulder startled her into swallowing it before she was ready, ruining the moment she’d been about to savor. The round metal wasn’t lubricated enough to slide down her esophagus the way it should have, making it feel slow-moving and high up in her throat. Her face scrunched in pain as she tried to swallow hard to push it down.
In her peripheral view, Samuel’s dark skin appeared first as he bent around her and then placed himself in her way. He smiled awkwardly, exposing his ill-fitting partials that had unfortunately been bent out of shape during a fight he’d recently been involved in. He tried to strike up conversation pleasantly enough, about biblical verses, and ask when the next Bible study would be, but Maggie knew better.
“I don’t know why you think you can trick me.”
“I did it once.”
“I let that happen. What do you want? I have Thursday group in fifteen minutes and I can’t be late again.” She crossed her tiny arms in front of her chest in a defensive posture and looked behind her at the clerk who was in-processing a new client. Exaggerated movements at the bay window caught her attention then, and she twisted her torso to see Ute standing behind a bent-over Hilda, pumping her stumpy legs and hips into her sister’s backside. When they were confident that Maggie was watching, they shifted into another mock sexual position. Hilda now stood with her hands behind her head as if she was being arrested. Her huge, sagging breasts looked surprisingly uplifted from the pose of her arms as her sister knelt before her and bobbed her head up and down near Hilda’s crotch. Not to be outshined by her more dominant twin, she made the motion of giving oral by jacking her hand left and right near her face and pushing her tongue outward on the inside of her cheek. Maggie was appalled.
When she turned to look at Samuel again, he was smiling from ear to ear as his eyes traveled up and down her curves in such a lustful way that you would have thought he was looking at her naked flesh. “Ooo wee, little Magpie, you got some good Christian titties on you.” He leaned into her space, getting as uncomfortably close to her ear as she allowed. “You ever want to know what a black man tastes like, I may be able to help you out. Get you a taste of my African seed.”
A knot bubbled in her throat with disgust. “You need Jesus.”
“Jesus ain’t got nothin' to do with this, little mamma.” He grabbed his crotch and pulled at a bulge that was stiffening under his hold. He leaned into her space again to look intently into her bright blue eyes. “If you don’t want my anaconda to think about sliding between your tight pussy lips, you can tell me where the fuck my girlfriend is.” Thinking of her, he closed his eyes and inhaled the smell of strawberry shampoo, and then he backed away to watch the woman before him shift her arms into a tighter, more insecure pose.
His breath smelled like a wet ashtray. The rancid odor made Maggie’s eyes scrunch closed as she shook her head to shake it from her nose. Unexplainably, her mouth began to water, but this at least made swallowing the lump in her throat a little easier. “I’m not her babysitter, Samuel. Go ask the twins. They think they know everything. Excuse me.” Maggie motioned for him to move so she could pass and go about her business. The corduroy between her legs rubbed together with her first step, though. Samuel quickly sidestepped into her path and slid his hand over the buttons on her shirt, and then filled his palm with her right breast. He gave it a sexually charged squeeze, tugging it lightly enough to pull her petite body forward. She gasped as her eyes broadened, exposing the details of their crystal blue pattern. He glared over her pale face, noticing her flawless skin and then scanning specifically over the natural red hue of her lips, which seemed to mesmerize him more so than the intoxicating fear in her eyes.
A burning sensation immediately pulsed at Maggie’s ears as they turned red. Discovering his erection pressed against the side of her hip, she produced enough saliva to feel it tickling down the inside of her cheeks, and she swallowed twice. A vivid image of secret piercings through the tip of his penis and other metallic adornments on his genitals flashed
before her, as if she knew for a fact that they were there. The spit uncomfortably pooled under her tongue again as they stood staring at each other for what seemed like a lifetime. Her breast, having never been handled in such a forceful way, was oddly stimulated. Maggie was the first to break eye contact, with a sick feeling in her stomach, and she pulled away from his manhandling grip. “Don’t ever touch me like that again!” She placed the back of her hand up to her lips. “I’m going to vomit.”
She pushed past him and briskly walked down the hallway to the closest bathroom.
Maggie felt his eyes watching her scurry the entire length of the hallway. The twins laughed while jiggling their boobs up and down and making other obscene gestures.
Within the safety of the bathroom, she experienced a full-blown panic attack while hovering over a toilet to let the drool fall out of her mouth. She cried while dry heaving and prayed for it to end. Eventually, she succumbed to the first stages of exhaustion, which felt like the almighty Lord was truly listening. When she plopped her corduroy-covered butt on the cold tiles and leaned herself onto the seat of a bowl, she was able to catch her breath – intermixed with dealing with the stench from the rim. Habitually, she reached for her necklace, which by now was surely at the bottom of sludge water in some sewer treatment plant and covered in feces. Her ears burned profusely. She moved her hand from her empty neck to her heart as she relaxed her head against the stall partition. Finally, Maggie closed her eyes for a peaceful, private moment.
Trying to achieve sanctuary after being violated, Maggie heard Belinda’s loud singing.
Fish don’t fry in the kitchen; beans don’t burn on the grill.
Took a whole lot of tryin’ just to get up that hill…
Fuck, fuck, fuck, well, we’re movin’ on up, to the east side.
To a dee-luxe apartment in the sky.
Maggie tried to ask her to leave, but Belinda’s voice was so loud. More vomit pushed its way up and out onto the floor. At least Belinda wasn’t singing anymore. Maggie practically fell asleep over the sink.
Maggie was always eating weird things, and was probably sick from it again. Belinda paid no attention to it and began to brush her teeth. A gold chain from her neck hung wildly as she brushed. Eventually, she spat a wad of foam in the sink as the chain dangled at the edge of the porcelain. “Was Samuel looking for me? We are supposed to rendezvous before group.” She hastily tucked the necklace back into her shirt and winked at Maggie in the mirror. “I mean, I know you are like, all Bible all the time and shit, but you are a woman. You know love. You know lust.” She winked at Maggie again as if she should know exactly what she was talking about. “That man makes my pussy wet – what can I say?”
The vulgarity of the comment nauseated her.
There was a long moment of silence while Belinda chose her next words. Then she rinsed her toothbrush under water. “He grabbed your boob, didn’t he? Did you like it? I know it made your clit tickle.” She laughed at herself. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Magpie! You need to get you some good dick before you go back home to your missionary-vanilla husband. He won’t know. I’m certainly not going to tell him.” She bent over the sink to rinse out her mouth with water. When she lifted her head, she wiped away moisture from the corners of her lips. “Ugh, I can’t get this goddamn taste out of my mouth.”
Maggie thought of all the sexual juices that could possibly be rotting between her teeth.
“Don’t give me that judgmental look. It’s like a metallic, dirty taste. Like nasty-ass change from the bottom of a sweaty, homeless guy’s shoe. I don’t know how you eat shit like that. I’d rather eat a dick any day.” She pulled a red lipstick tube from her pocket and applied it as she leaned in closer to the mirror. When she pulled away from the mirror to rub her lips together, she paused for a moment to think and gently shake her head in approval. Reminiscing, she said, “Or pussy. I’d much rather eat pussy. Anyway. You gonna be alright? As much as you hate me, and believe me it’s mutual, I sort of feel bad when you are upset. Don’t worry about Samuel. I’m going to take care of him real good right now.” She quickly flicked her hair up and over her head as she suddenly bent over to jostle her hands through it for volume. The smell reinvigorated the scent of strawberries. There was something rather beautiful about Belinda’s preparation as she stood fluffing her hair. When she was finished, she stood straight again, flipping her blonde locks up into the air and letting them fall to her back. Her beautiful breasts jiggled within the bra which flung the necklace out over the center of her silk shirt. At the end of the gold chain was a cross that was very familiar to Maggie; only this one had spots of encrusted brown residue in and around the crevices.
Belinda inhaled deeply as she threw her head back to look at the ceiling and shake her hair one last time. As her body shimmied, the cross necklace pulled itself back into her cleavage again before Belinda returned to a proper stance and then spun around to check her appearance.
Maggie hinted that she didn’t need to expose herself like that to be noticed and desperately wanted to clean the questionable filth from the necklace.
“I knew you would say that, to ruin a good moment between us by reciting scriptural philosophy. Listen, I don’t want to miss group again, so I need to go get my orgasm on, so I can focus. I’d ask you to be adventurous and come with me, but I know you won’t.” She giggled and then mumbled her next thought out loud. “Cum with me.”
Belinda saw the necklace in the mirror that was distracting Maggie. She looked down and grabbed the pendant while she explained that she’d gotten it from her uncle when her parents had died, and she was sorry that it looked the same as Maggie’s. “I had it in my locker and didn’t want to wear it because I knew it would upset you since you said you ate yours.” She looked down at it and tried to dig away a dark flake that was stuck around the jewels.
Maggie didn’t say a word.
“Which reminds me...there is that fucking taste again.” She snorted hard with her nose, bringing phlegm up and out of her mouth so that she could spit it into the sink. “Dirty change.” She popped her lips together in the mirror one last time and then pranced out of the bathroom with a renewed, straightened posture. Her shoulders were pushed back in perfect form, too, creating a curvier, uplifted silhouette. Just before she pushed the door open to walk out, she said, “Don’t be afraid of sexuality, Maggie. I heard him. You are beautiful with your good Christian titties. You can be spiritual and enjoy the taste of African seed. There is nothing to feel guilty about, Jiminy Cricket – you know what I mean?”
Belinda winked into the empty bathroom and then pushed the door open with the butt of her ribbed, corduroy pants.
KNOWLEDGE IGNITES
Ignacio paced back and forth in the empty craft room while he bit at the hangnail on his right middle finger. As he tried to clip the jagged edge with his teeth, the dimples in his face appeared and disappeared with each muscle movement. Alone, he walked around tables that were filled with scraps of brightly colored paper, themselves adorned with intricate dried noodle designs. As he circled one of the tables for the fifth time, thoughts of therapy as infantile as crafting with pasta really began to piss him off. How the hell was a hot glued pasta rendition of a landscape supposed to help him figure out his sexuality? Northern Lights had started all this shit anyway.
Ignacio took a breath before his blood pressure escalated beyond a level that could be retracted so easily. Maybe years of pretending to be mentally unstable had simply caught up with him. He exhaled and tried to run his fingers through his hair, but a dizzy spell took his balance. His body pushed into a locked cage where they kept the hot glue guns, scissors, and any other crafty items that could potentially be used as weapons against the staff. He stared at the items between the metal woven mesh that separated him from them. The space included beautiful jars of sparkling color...spectrums of tangible rainbow flecks – glitter. He pushed himself off the cage to pace again. He didn’t want thoughts of
Buck to make him smile.
He looked at the clock above the doorway to the hall. The next pasta craft session would be occupying the room in fifteen minutes. Where the hell was Buck? He knocked over a cup of unsharpened pencils with his finger, just to be defiant. He almost needed to hear the clinking of the pencils, just to break up the awful sound of silence.
It seemed to take forever, but finally Buck opened the door while Ignacio scooped and dumped various dried noodles onto the floor.
Startled, he immediately began his verbal attacks. “Where the fuck have you been?” He flicked a single stuck noodle from his sweaty palm to the floor.
Buck, walking tall and proud into the room with that commanding presence he had, smiled through his pain. “Nice to see you, too. I had to restrain one of the weekenders. She flung poop onto the back of Charlotte’s head. Roger in maintenance said he thought he saw her holding onto it for at least twenty minutes…”
