Options (Hugo & Karl)
May. 7th, 2005 06:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
horseboykarlI locate my phone and find a heavy barn coat on the hooks on the back porch. I put it on over my T-shirt against the chilly fall night. I check on Smokey in the barn, running my hands along his withers, letting the contact soothe me.
What the fuck do I do? I knew this shit was going to catch up with me eventually and now it has. How do I tell people I care about that there's another part of my life that's ruled by insanity? They won't believe me.
But I know one person who did, maybe because he's a little out there himself. Somehow Hugo found a way to tell Johnny about the shifts and Johnny not only believed him, but stuck by him.
I give Smokey one last pat and leave the barn. There's a place on the other side of the barn, where the wall holding back one of the terraces slopes down to the building. The wall gets lower and makes a vee where it meets the foundation of the barn. I go around there and climb into the spot, a familiar place from childhood.
Hugo's number is stored in the phone and it's a little after eleven o'clock in Wellie. Hopefully he's still up and in the mood to help me out. I punch the number and wait, listening to the ringing.
Hugo: It's quite entertaining, taunting my cat with the kiwi on a string. I should feel bad, probably, but she seems to be enjoying herself as the little attack cat that could. I pull the plush bird back to me and she meows in frustration - at least there's a little noise in the house even if it is a cat meow. Place is just too damned quiet right now.
Which would explain why I nearly jump out of my skin when the phone rings.
Gods, I need to turn the ringer down.
"Weaving's Mortuary. You stab 'em, we slab 'em."
Karl: You're evidently not only awake, but in a good mood. "Hey, mate, it's Karl. Sorry about the hour, but I've got a bit of a problem, was wondering if you could help out."
I wonder if I'm going to get a lecture about lying or violating classified agreements or some other shift-related crap. Hopefully, you've got some answers for me.
Hugo: "Problem?" I straighten a bit in my chair and put the kiwi in my desk drawer. My second home, Johnny calls it. Have to say though, my study definitely gets its share of quality-Hugo time.
"Can give it a whirl, but if deals with pscyho-dependency issues or impotence, I am afraid I'll have to refer you to someone else." My tone drops and I sober up, flipping a pencil in my free hand, "what's going on?"
Karl: I sigh. "Well, the inevitable actually. I fudged a bit about Éomer when I was talking to Vig and Orli because my boyfriend was sitting there. Now I'm busted for lying."
The breeze has picked up and I pull the jacket more tightly around my torso. Right. There's no end to the difficulties and inconvenience caused by my fucking shift. I think longingly about the warm bed with the warm man in it back in the house.
Hugo: "Ah." Well, not that I have any clue really what you're talking about, but fake understanding does give me a moment to think about what you're asking for. You got busted for lying, and what, now you want my help to get out of it? Only other option...ah. Moment of clarity found. I think. "How bad's the lie?"
Karl: "Wouldn't be all that bad, except that I forgot about it. I suck at lying. Anyway, I said that Éomer was my cousin and then brought Eric up Hastings way to meet my aunt. Just my fucking luck that he remembered and asked. You can imagine the scene, I'm sure."
I sit forward. "Here's the thing . . . how do I come clean without getting locked up in a padded room? You managed it . . . how'd you do it?"
Hugo: "Me?" I snort and shake my head despite the fact that you can't observe my angry-yet-not-angry state, kicking my feet up onto my desk, "wanker knew for months. Snuck in, read my bloody journals covering the past years and knew every detail and digested it before I was any the wiser. First I knew he knew was that night of the great barbie over here."
"Shite mate, that doesn't help your situation though, does it? How much you trust the bloke?"
Karl: Trust him? “Fuck, Hugo, I’ve got no idea. He seems right, but who the fuck knows until you try it. And this is too big to treat lightly. I don’t think he’d tell the bloody papers, if that’s what you mean, but I’m not sure he’d hang around either.”
I think of the spot of creative storytelling that I did earlier. “I think I’ve covered for now, but things will slip eventually. Any ideas? I can’t just have Éomer shift in for a meet and greet.”
Hugo: "Well, Karl, the way I see it, you've got three options. One, borrow my journals, put them out for him to read, which I did -not- intentionally do with Johnny, before you even think it, and hope he digests it well, either way, they're just stories but he could quite possibly think me nutters and I might just end up in the looney bin despite all I've done to avoid it. Two, tell him. Which, could result in him leaving, could result in him staying, could result in fantastic support when the darkness creeps in at night and you've got nowhere to turn. Of course, could result in -you- being drug off to the looney bin, pumped full of meds, and kiss goodbye to your career. Three," I pause and spin in my chair, just little half circles, but enough to distract Imladris from attacking my feet, "three, tell him you've got DID, you're on meds, but sometimes those alternate
personalities slip out. Saves you a trip to the looney bin but costs you your sanity. Or, I suppose, you could say nothing at all, but that would really defeat the purpose and intent of the call, wouldn't it?"
Karl: I dig a small piece of mortar from between the stones and flick it away. I’d really like to choose the option that potentially puts you in the looney bin, not me, but . . . fuck. “This is impossible. None of those options work, and I’ve already piled lie on top of lie, so I’d rather not add to the stack. I have to tell him, that’s becoming clear. If I’m going to stay in a relationship with him, the odds of getting caught will just go up. I just wish I had any idea of which he’d jump. Did Johnny think they were stories at first? Or did he believe it because of something about his personality?”
Did Johnny believe because he’s looney himself? If that’s the case, then I don’t have a fucking prayer, Eric’s about the sanest person I’ve ever met.
Hugo: I sigh and rub my forehead, erasing the tinge of stress threatening to drill into the bone right above me eye.
We've got enough to deal with, life and love, family and friends, why the hell do we need to have complications? The prior is enough to drive some to madness and murder, and we have to add the latter? The powers must have granted us more ability to cope.
"Johnny ... Johnny's a force unto himself. He believed because he wanted to believe. Listen mate, I understand your situation, and I wish I could give you a clear answer. But the fact is, our truth weighs like an obese elephant, and that's hard enough to shoulder for those directly involved. Everyone copes a bit differently, some have an easier time than others. But every step removed from the danger creates more distance, less acceptance and more denial. If you believe he must know, then acknowledge the mind's ability to handle what it can and be prepared for the consequences. Otherwise, start working on your acting abilities and find a story which rings somewhat true and is a bit easier to remember."
Karl: I drag an agitated hand through my hair. “Yeah, I get it. Unfortunately, he’s brushed the edge of the danger. Told you about that, didn’t I? Fucking fanboys. You’ve given me some things to chew on, I was hoping you’d have all the answers, but I don’t guess there are any in this situation. I’ll have to think about what I’m going to do. At least I’ve talked to Éomer about him, so there won’t be any slips from that direction like what happened with Gareth and Elladan and Jay. Well, thanks for hearing me out, mate. Hope I didn’t interrupt anything important.” I smirk.
Hugo: "Important? Nah, just playing with the cat and reading inbetween." I ignore the slur, Johnny gets back soon and then I most definitely will have important things to do, like welcoming him home properly.
Huh. Home.
"Just remember mate, and I know you will, be careful what you say. Not saying you shouldn't speak to him by any means, just...we're in up to our necks here, all of us."
What the fuck do I do? I knew this shit was going to catch up with me eventually and now it has. How do I tell people I care about that there's another part of my life that's ruled by insanity? They won't believe me.
But I know one person who did, maybe because he's a little out there himself. Somehow Hugo found a way to tell Johnny about the shifts and Johnny not only believed him, but stuck by him.
I give Smokey one last pat and leave the barn. There's a place on the other side of the barn, where the wall holding back one of the terraces slopes down to the building. The wall gets lower and makes a vee where it meets the foundation of the barn. I go around there and climb into the spot, a familiar place from childhood.
Hugo's number is stored in the phone and it's a little after eleven o'clock in Wellie. Hopefully he's still up and in the mood to help me out. I punch the number and wait, listening to the ringing.
Hugo: It's quite entertaining, taunting my cat with the kiwi on a string. I should feel bad, probably, but she seems to be enjoying herself as the little attack cat that could. I pull the plush bird back to me and she meows in frustration - at least there's a little noise in the house even if it is a cat meow. Place is just too damned quiet right now.
Which would explain why I nearly jump out of my skin when the phone rings.
Gods, I need to turn the ringer down.
"Weaving's Mortuary. You stab 'em, we slab 'em."
Karl: You're evidently not only awake, but in a good mood. "Hey, mate, it's Karl. Sorry about the hour, but I've got a bit of a problem, was wondering if you could help out."
I wonder if I'm going to get a lecture about lying or violating classified agreements or some other shift-related crap. Hopefully, you've got some answers for me.
Hugo: "Problem?" I straighten a bit in my chair and put the kiwi in my desk drawer. My second home, Johnny calls it. Have to say though, my study definitely gets its share of quality-Hugo time.
"Can give it a whirl, but if deals with pscyho-dependency issues or impotence, I am afraid I'll have to refer you to someone else." My tone drops and I sober up, flipping a pencil in my free hand, "what's going on?"
Karl: I sigh. "Well, the inevitable actually. I fudged a bit about Éomer when I was talking to Vig and Orli because my boyfriend was sitting there. Now I'm busted for lying."
The breeze has picked up and I pull the jacket more tightly around my torso. Right. There's no end to the difficulties and inconvenience caused by my fucking shift. I think longingly about the warm bed with the warm man in it back in the house.
Hugo: "Ah." Well, not that I have any clue really what you're talking about, but fake understanding does give me a moment to think about what you're asking for. You got busted for lying, and what, now you want my help to get out of it? Only other option...ah. Moment of clarity found. I think. "How bad's the lie?"
Karl: "Wouldn't be all that bad, except that I forgot about it. I suck at lying. Anyway, I said that Éomer was my cousin and then brought Eric up Hastings way to meet my aunt. Just my fucking luck that he remembered and asked. You can imagine the scene, I'm sure."
I sit forward. "Here's the thing . . . how do I come clean without getting locked up in a padded room? You managed it . . . how'd you do it?"
Hugo: "Me?" I snort and shake my head despite the fact that you can't observe my angry-yet-not-angry state, kicking my feet up onto my desk, "wanker knew for months. Snuck in, read my bloody journals covering the past years and knew every detail and digested it before I was any the wiser. First I knew he knew was that night of the great barbie over here."
"Shite mate, that doesn't help your situation though, does it? How much you trust the bloke?"
Karl: Trust him? “Fuck, Hugo, I’ve got no idea. He seems right, but who the fuck knows until you try it. And this is too big to treat lightly. I don’t think he’d tell the bloody papers, if that’s what you mean, but I’m not sure he’d hang around either.”
I think of the spot of creative storytelling that I did earlier. “I think I’ve covered for now, but things will slip eventually. Any ideas? I can’t just have Éomer shift in for a meet and greet.”
Hugo: "Well, Karl, the way I see it, you've got three options. One, borrow my journals, put them out for him to read, which I did -not- intentionally do with Johnny, before you even think it, and hope he digests it well, either way, they're just stories but he could quite possibly think me nutters and I might just end up in the looney bin despite all I've done to avoid it. Two, tell him. Which, could result in him leaving, could result in him staying, could result in fantastic support when the darkness creeps in at night and you've got nowhere to turn. Of course, could result in -you- being drug off to the looney bin, pumped full of meds, and kiss goodbye to your career. Three," I pause and spin in my chair, just little half circles, but enough to distract Imladris from attacking my feet, "three, tell him you've got DID, you're on meds, but sometimes those alternate
personalities slip out. Saves you a trip to the looney bin but costs you your sanity. Or, I suppose, you could say nothing at all, but that would really defeat the purpose and intent of the call, wouldn't it?"
Karl: I dig a small piece of mortar from between the stones and flick it away. I’d really like to choose the option that potentially puts you in the looney bin, not me, but . . . fuck. “This is impossible. None of those options work, and I’ve already piled lie on top of lie, so I’d rather not add to the stack. I have to tell him, that’s becoming clear. If I’m going to stay in a relationship with him, the odds of getting caught will just go up. I just wish I had any idea of which he’d jump. Did Johnny think they were stories at first? Or did he believe it because of something about his personality?”
Did Johnny believe because he’s looney himself? If that’s the case, then I don’t have a fucking prayer, Eric’s about the sanest person I’ve ever met.
Hugo: I sigh and rub my forehead, erasing the tinge of stress threatening to drill into the bone right above me eye.
We've got enough to deal with, life and love, family and friends, why the hell do we need to have complications? The prior is enough to drive some to madness and murder, and we have to add the latter? The powers must have granted us more ability to cope.
"Johnny ... Johnny's a force unto himself. He believed because he wanted to believe. Listen mate, I understand your situation, and I wish I could give you a clear answer. But the fact is, our truth weighs like an obese elephant, and that's hard enough to shoulder for those directly involved. Everyone copes a bit differently, some have an easier time than others. But every step removed from the danger creates more distance, less acceptance and more denial. If you believe he must know, then acknowledge the mind's ability to handle what it can and be prepared for the consequences. Otherwise, start working on your acting abilities and find a story which rings somewhat true and is a bit easier to remember."
Karl: I drag an agitated hand through my hair. “Yeah, I get it. Unfortunately, he’s brushed the edge of the danger. Told you about that, didn’t I? Fucking fanboys. You’ve given me some things to chew on, I was hoping you’d have all the answers, but I don’t guess there are any in this situation. I’ll have to think about what I’m going to do. At least I’ve talked to Éomer about him, so there won’t be any slips from that direction like what happened with Gareth and Elladan and Jay. Well, thanks for hearing me out, mate. Hope I didn’t interrupt anything important.” I smirk.
Hugo: "Important? Nah, just playing with the cat and reading inbetween." I ignore the slur, Johnny gets back soon and then I most definitely will have important things to do, like welcoming him home properly.
Huh. Home.
"Just remember mate, and I know you will, be careful what you say. Not saying you shouldn't speak to him by any means, just...we're in up to our necks here, all of us."
