One Disordering Day in the Lives of Dissociating Gary

Gary snapped back to life when the lady behind him in line at the cafe tapped his shoulder.

“Iced coffee,” he grunted as he pulled on the scarf that was just a little too tight. Goddamnit, Lainey, he thought to himself as he loosened it. I don’t need to be asphyxiated to know that I’m alive. 

Lainey always thought she knew what was best for everyone. Her mama-bear instincts roared to life every morning as she dressed everybody up in the same attire. Lizzo used to be in charge of dressing everyone but Gary could only wear a flowing purple skirt so many times to work. Gary couldn’t talk to Lizzo so he left post-its everywhere in order to remind her that jeans and a t-shirt were the only suitable attire for the construction site that Gary worked on. Even though Gary was fifty-three and Lainey was thirty-four, Lainey was the only one who sixteen-year-old Lizzo would listen to.

By the time Gary reached the site, he was sucking on ice through the chewed-up straw, stirring up air bubbles through monstrous slurps. He nodded hello to the men as he dragged his muddy shoes towards his best friend, Phil. Their heated breaths fogged up the winter air as they greeted each other in low mumbles of feigned pleasitude. Gary wasn’t allowed to drive after the accident. None of them were. That’s where Phil and his beat-up secondhand car came in.

The accident hadn’t been Gary’s fault. He had warned Marcus not to come to his workplace. But seven-year-olds were stupid. Gary phased out and hadn’t noticed that Marcus had shown up. Marcus wasn’t strong enough to hold up the construction beam and crumpled under its weight. Phil had been on the opposing end and he hadn’t realized that Marcus was there since Marcus and Gary looked exactly alike. Of course Gary didn’t want to get in trouble so he kept Marcus a secret. They both dislocated their tailbones although Marcus had healed a lot faster than the old man. Gary looked and felt a lot older than fifty-three. He attributed that to his exhausting childhood finally having caught up with him and dragging him down to its level. 

None of the people who lived in Gary liked thinking about Gary’s childhood. The mere thought of his mother’s casserole made their stomachs want to squeeze bile—sometimes the stomach managed to do what it wanted. Most of the time, though, they managed to suppress their stomach’s urge to regurgitate the trauma. He didn’t know where and when it had started but somewhere along the way, the casserole made Gary want to throw up. His mother would have none of it, though, and force-fed him every last drop of what was left on his plate—no matter how much bile was mixed in.

Gary liked to think of himself, Lainey, Lizzo, Marcus, and the others as part of one big family—not one big happy family but they were all he had. Although, for a few years, decades ago, they all had Dr. Alex Wang, the family’s psychiatrist—but that was when Gary had better health insurance. Dr. Wang diagnosed, introduced communicating through the post-it system, and explained that Gary’s mother was the reason for the family members.

Costin was twenty-seven-years-old and was the only bilingual one. He was also the only one in a relationship. His girlfriend, Isabella, was forty-seven. Gary had met her a couple of times and he quite liked her. However, he never met with her intentionally. He’d always stumble upon her by mistake when Costin would have her over time to time.

Gary Jr. also lived in the house. He was the only one who had met Gary’s mother, and who witnessed the horrors inflicted upon both him and Gary. There was a scar that covered the area where Gary’s crow's feet would have been, had he not been wounded in the first place. His mother smacked his face so hard that Gary flew and dropped to the ground, his face making a stop at the corner of the tv counter before making it all the way down. Gary didn’t remember what warranted such a reaction from his mother. Gary Jr. remembered, though. He remembered her icy, sobering glare when she saw the Fs on the report card. Gary Jr. remembered the mother drop her cigarette in the casserole, which burnt Gary’s throat. Gary Jr. remembered the pile of used diapers that had been accumulating in his room ever since he was an infant. He remembered the stench clawing away at his brain cells. First, the diapers belonged to the mother’s baby boy, but then she started wearing diapers and tossed the soiled ones in Gary’s room. Gary should have appreciated when Lainey tied the scarf a little too tight every morning. Gary Jr. used to.

It was Friday night, which everyone knew meant date night. Lainey knew what Isabella would like so she had set up the date and gave Costin permission to tell Isabella that it was his own doing. In front of the tv, a checkered picnic mat lay on the cream, carpeted floor. It wasn’t going to be a picnic-styled dinner but Marcus had stolen Gary’s coffee and the excess caffeine caused him to spill the coffee all over the carpet. There was no time to get rid of the stain so Lainey put the hopped-up seven-year-old to bed and covered the carpet with the picnic mat. Two plates with transparent, hard, plastic covers revealed the basil rice, asparagus, and scallops, all glazed with chili oil. A red ice chest sat beside the white and red picnic mat, and in it were the Nutella-filled strawberries in a glass container and the Prosecco. Lainey made sure to instruct Gary to pick up Prosecco on the way home that could be popped open like Champagne. Tonight was the night that Costin was going to tell Isabella about everyone else in the house. Most of them had seen her but she had never knowingly interacted with them.

The doorbell rang and everyone knew not to disturb Costin and Isabella. Costin opened the door with his charming grin. After a shave and a shower, Gary had cleaned Costin up pretty well. Lainey dressed him in black trousers and the red, plaid shirt Costin had worn on his first date with Isabella. 

“Costin, you’ve outdone yourself,” Isabella smiled through her ruby-lined teeth. Her brunette curls were locked in a messy up-do with a few strands down the side and a full-on fringe to frame her made-up face. Gold glitter glazed across her black-lined eyelids. Cheap mascara clumped up the lashes that were curled away from her eyes to brighten her face. Her portly body was disguised by the curves that filled out the red and orange floral dress she had on. Costin could smell the Jasmine oil that was dripping down the back of her ear when he went in for a kiss.

“What smells so good?” she asked. Costin took her hand and led her to the picnic mat. While he was out of it, Lizzo had gone around the house and set flickering tea-light candles everywhere. Even Lizzo had acknowledged the importance of that night and understood that everything had to run as smoothly and as close to perfect as possible.

The night unfolded the way Costin had always imagined it would. They interacted like teenagers in lust; the way they laughed when drops of chili oil stained Costin’s shirt; the way they felt giddy when they pointed out that they were both wearing red; the way Costin hand-fed her chocolate-filled-strawberries. His twenty-seven-year-old brain had never felt younger than when he was with Isabella.

Costin had hooked the HDMI cable up between the tv and his laptop, and put on a youtube video of a lit fireplace including the crackling of tinder. They were laying down on the dried-up coffee stain, their bottom halves cozied up under the picnic mat. Their upper-halves were left exposed to the elements, their naked skin glistening from sweat.

Once, when Gary was ten, Gary Jr. saw what happened when fresh socks from the laundry weren’t paired, folded, and tucked away correctly the way mother had taught Gary. Tom & Jerry was on tv and Gary sat in front of it as he folded the laundry. There were two pairs of black socks that Gary was folding together. However, he was so caught up with laughing when Jerry hit Tom who turned into the shape of the pan that Gary hadn’t noticed that one sock had two stripes, the other had three, and that the stripes were slightly different shades of blue. Mother noticed. Gathering inspiration from Jerry, mother beat Gary with the pan she had just used for frying eggs. Mother, along with the repeated scorches of the pan, chased and drove Gary under her bed. When she didn’t want to exert any more energy than necessary, she dropped the pan on the bed and instead kicked Gary repeatedly. She did so until Gary retracted too far under the bed for her to reach.

“What are you thinking about?” Isabella asked. Costin hadn’t realized how far in thought he was lost—lost in the descriptions of Gary Jr.’s journals: previously repressed accounts of Gary’s mother’s doings.

“Have I ever told you about my past? Or the scars on my back?” Costin asked.

Isabella was confused. “No…?”

“Have I ever told you about my friend, Gary?”

“Costin, I’m too tired to run in circles. Just tell me what you want to tell me so we can go to bed. I’m sleepy.”

“Maybe we should get into bed before continuing this conversation.”

“Sure,” Isabella brushed him off.

Costin stood up butterball-naked. Isabella’s attention was drawn towards the scars on his backs. Or rather, she tried to look for the scars on his back. All she could see were the unsightly, protruding moles that covered his back like barnacles covering an old, creaky, wooden ship. How was she to know that that’s what formed when Gary’s mother substituted the leather tassels of a whip with the three prongs of an extension cord? Isabella wrapped herself in the picnic mat and they made their way to the bedroom. Gary preferred it when Costin and Isabella slept on the pullout couch. He didn’t like finding her in his bed in the morning. However, this was a special night and Costin got special permission from Gary.

The shadows cast on Costin’s bare butt flickered along with the flames that lit the way to the bedroom. Isabella appreciated the grey hairs on his head considering most men that age whom she had met were balding. They got under the covers.

“Bitcoin for your thoughts?” Costin asked.

“Huh?”

Costin had to remind himself of the age difference. “That’s my millennial way of asking: what are you thinking about?”

Millennial my ass, Isabella thought. “You tell me. You’re the one who wanted to talk.” Isabella wished she had clothes on. She felt too naked for comfort with not knowing what was about to ensue.

“My friend, Gary.”

“Yes?”

Costin said, “My friend grew up with an awful mother. One day after school, Gary was sitting in his room watching tv after finishing all his homework. He skipped lunch earlier that day to finish his homework so he could watch the Tom & Jerry special that was on after school. His mother didn’t know that he had finished his homework. Instead, she had assumed that he was disobeying her and watching tv before finishing his homework. So she disciplined him.”

“Okay?”

“Well, Gary’s mother wasn’t too happy with all of that.” Costin thought about how he should phrase the rest of the anecdote. “His mom pulled the extension cord under the sink out of the cabinet. You know the plug-in point with the three metal prongs?” Isabella nodded her head. “Well, his mother held the other end and lashed the plug against Gary’s back. Not just once. And that wasn’t the first time.”

Isabella’s stomach lurched in horror and her lips parted as she tried to process what she had just been told. “I am so sorry your friend had to go through that.”

“There’s more.” Isabella remained silent. “Another time, Gary’s mother had dropped her glass of water. Gary was forced to sweep the shards up and throw them out. Without his shoes on.” Isabella winced.

“I appreciate you opening up, but…Costin, where is this conversation going?”

Picking up on the sadness in Isabella’s voice, Costin had never wanted to hold and protect someone that much before.

Costin parted his lips. She waited before asking. “Costin, you were going to say something?” Finding comfort in the clamminess of their bare, sweaty skins, Costin was still unsure how to proceed. 

“He had to take his shoes off. Sweep them with his hands.” His statement rendered Isabella dumbfounded, unable to produce anything other than silence. Costin’s mind flashed back to Gary Jr’s journal entires. Lainey continued to make them all journal the way Dr. Wang had taught. The post-its weren’t enough.

“There used to be a red cookie jar tucked away in the corner of the kitchen. Chocolate chip cookies. Those are Gary’s favorites. He had a friend over after school and they snuck a cookie each. They went about the rest of their afternoon, as usual, cycling to the park and back, before his friend’s mom came to pick the friend up. Later that night, Gary nibbled on his sour cream & onion chips. His mother asked him about his day. That was a first. Cautious, he told her. Mid-sentence, his mother retracted her arm as far back as possible and crashed into Gary’s hand before letting go. Unable to move, Gary sat there as his mother lectured him about eating from the cookie jar. After she was done with her speech, she withdrew her fork and sighed in disdain when she realized she couldn’t use it anymore upon seeing the blood drops fall from the metal tips to the wooden table.”

“Costin, I think I’m going to go. I don’t feel comfortable anymore hearing this and I don’t know why you’re telling me about your friend but there doesn’t seem to be a point and I don’t think I can take it anymore.” Costin sighed. “I don’t want to take it anymore.” Isabella sighed.

This is your chance, Costin. Tell her. Just finally tell her. Everyone wanted a perfect moment and this feels like the perfect moment, right? If she gets scared and wants out, then good riddance. Or maybe you could tell her it was all just one really bad joke. What are your options, really? Tell her. Deal with her freaking out or indifference or whatever reaction that occurs. Or, don’t tell her. That would be easiest to deal with. Why put her through telling her about your family? What if she wants to meet them? Could you imagine all the questions? Do you have the energy to answer all the questions? Maybe you should take a chance. Stop thinking. Stop. Speak. Words. Now. Words.

* * *

Midday sun rays were fumbling into the apartment through the ragged window blinds. The aroma of pancake syrup, burnt bacon, and dirty socks swathed the air. An old episode of Tom & Jerry was playing in the background where Jerry had his identical cousins come to visit. Other than Tom’s face flattening when he ran into a pan, and walking off the roof midair only to realize that there was no roof beneath his feet so he fell to the grassy ground, Tom was running in circles trying to chase Jerry, not having realized that there were several mice instead of the one. The episode was a family favorite.

Costin stood at the door in his red and white checkered boxers, and a thin white t-shirt that wrapped nicely around his second-trimester beer gut. The goosebumps gave rise to the grey hairs all over his body. The chilled air flushed in and the warm air rushed up out of the apartment door as Costin and Isabella stood there saying their goodbyes.

Along with Isabella, energy left as well. Costin closed the door and shuffled to the furnace to de-cacti his limbs. For as long as he could, Costin stood there warming up until he felt too tired to stand. Then, he retreated to Gary’s room. Opening the first drawer, Costin pulled out a post-it and a pen. After scrawling a few words, he plucked the page and stuck it to the dresser mirror in front of him. Looking at the mirror, Costin maintained eye contact without blinking for as long as possible. He peered into the black ink accumulated in the middle of his iris seas. Unleashing a gruff sigh, Costin closed his eyelids.

One by one, family members opened their tearful eyes to the post-it: I couldn’t tell her the truth.

In that moment, Gary decided that enough was enough. He felt the cracks in his heart that Costin had left behind. It was time to educate the world. 

* * *

“My name is Gary and welcome to our Ted Talk. First, I want to share an Indian proverb that roughly translates to: Lotuses only bloom through slime.”