Doctors II

(Adult content below)

Alien Blues plays.

Two Boomers sit down with Lacey and Lem. Louis is off doing warfare for God. He does not and never has worshiped Baal if he’s not a demon.

American by Lana Del Rey plays.

“Lacey…Lem…we’re concerned.” the female Boomer starts.

Lacey and Lem look at them.

The female Boomer goes on, “We think you two are in love.”

They look at them silently still.

“We’re pretty sure that it’s not impossible to fake being gay.” says the Boomer man.

“Lem, I’m sorry, but I think you were what’s called a heterosexual.” says the woman.

“Wait…before you freak out-“ says the Boomer man. He raises his hand. “All that means is that you two have to be with each other.”

Lacey and Lem look confused. “But as a dedicated practicing-closeted-homosexual, I’m baffled. That was my understanding of myself almost 50 years ago.” says Lem. “And…it led to heartbreak and drug addiction and possibly suicide. But…I can’t imagine it’s wrong. Even if I felt uncomfortable talking about it because I wondered myself what was really wrong with me.” He thinks. “I also I got tired of hearing gay men say they disliked women completely. Or minimize my sexual feelings for women. …I hated the topic because it killed me from the inside out. And no one helped me. They just…made me hate myself more. And my mind. And…my life.”

They all look at him.

“But…I did die. And…now I’ve got this new friend.” he nudges Lacey.

“We’re in a gay relationship together.” says Lacey to the Boomers.

The Boomers stare at the two sitting next to each other.

“You should hear his gay voice. It’s so convincing. Or see his gay hand gestures.” says Lacey.

“Lacey are you, as a woman, saying you’re gay too?” asks the female Boomer.

“I’ve been bullied for saying I’m not. And every straight woman I’ve met has always acted like I am. And…my who raised me-I’ve been told to be.” says Lacey. “And lesbians get violent when I say I’m not.”

“She’s tired of fighting progress.” says Lem.

“So we’ve decided to be gay together.” says Lacey. “We mutually and openly support each other in our mutual homosexuality.”

“How well does that work when she’s a woman and you’re a man though?!” asks the Boomer woman.

“Why does that matter? We’re still saying we’re gay. People who know everything demand that we do. …Why does it matter?” asks Lem, growing angry.

The Boomer man laughs. “I just don’t get it. Are you two in some sort of gay alliance? Because technically you two are practicing heterosexuality.” He sighs.

“No. We just…” says Lacey.

“We don’t feel the need to label what we do. Alright!?!?” says Lem defiantly.

The Boomer covers his face with his hands. “You two seem to have a label.” he says.

“Gay!” says Lem. “After I was molested, I decided that I was and I tried to be that. And Jack needed me to be.” He thinks. “And his whole family did eventually.” He thinks more. “They thought if I was gay it made Jack straight. Because unlike me he got married and had kids.” He thinks even more. “I mean, I could have gotten married and settled down into a quiet, blissful and simple life. …Had my own life…”. He seethes. “But…what the Hell!” He shrugs, crying. “I got to be gay!” He thinks. “I got the rare opportunity to be a flaming, miserable, psychologically dysfunctional homosexual with no personality or life of my own.” He thinks. “It was just one gay moment after another. And the drunker or more high I was the easier it was to pull off successfully.”

The Boomer man laughs.

“Why are you taking that away from me?!?” he asks aghast. “I worked hard to be gay. I had to do the movements and voices. And at times I got so tired of it I accidentally seemed straight. Lacey is good at noticing those mistakes.”

“But you two are practicing heterosexuality.” says the Boomer man.

“Alright. Fine.” says Lem. “I suppose technically we’re in a heterosexual relationship for eternity.” He thinks. “God willing.” He thinks more. “But…being homosexual is an honor. I wanted to be gay. Because it meant I wasn’t just brutally molested, if I was indeed brutally molested.” He thinks yet again. “I don’t think people understood how much I valued living somewhere and not just being high all the time wondering why I was born.” He coughs. “But…that’s cool. I mean, what the fuck?! Right?! What the fucking God damned Hell?!” He smiles. “I had the best. I was never given a damn moment of peace. It was constant needs. Constant demands.” He grins. “I had the best friend ever. The best life ever…the best time ever…the best room in the White House. It was…the best.”

“Why didn’t your family see it that way?” asks the Boomer man.

“They didn’t like the Kennedy family.” he says. “And as a closeted homosexual I could explain to them that I too secretly hated them.” He smiles. “That I stuck around because I felt obligated due to Jack’s sexual behavior with me when we were teenagers and that I had no life otherwise being gay.”

“So you stuck around like a champ. Never complained.” says the Boomer man.

“I felt responsible for him. …I didn’t love him romantically at all. …I loved him out of obligation eventually in every regard and shoved my feelings into boxes.” he says.

Radio by Lana Del Rey plays.

“Were you mentally ill?” asks the Boomer woman.

“I was probably depressed.” he says. “I was Jack’s husband.”

The Boomers look at him with a side-eye.

“Wait…why is that connected to you being clinically depressed?” asks the Boomer woman.

“What?!” he asks.

“Lem…you just said you were likely suicidal but lived for the role of being Jack’s husband?” asks the woman.

He nods. “And it was depressing as Hell. So I got drunk. She then eventually high when he died.”

“Why were you so sad when he died if being his husband depressed you?” asks Lacey.

“I didn’t want him to die.” he says. “And I had nothing left to live for. I’d just been helping him live my whole life.”

“You had family though.” says the Boomer.

“And I felt creepy.” says Lem. “He never made me feel creepy for being what I thought was gay.”

“That’s probably true.” says the Boomer woman. “But you were depressed being his supportive, loving, understanding, always patient and willing husband?”

“I thought my life was over otherwise though. Oddly, other men never kept my attention. And Jack didn’t care that I wasn’t happy like they did. Or that gay sex repulsed me. He just expected me to put out.” he says.

Video Games plays.

“And so…being gay…you were okay with being morbidly depressed.” says the Boomer man.

“It wasn’t anything sublimation and chemicals couldn’t mask for an hour.” says Lem.

“So what’s it like now?” asks the Boomer woman.

“With Lacey?” asks the Boomer man.

“I’m not depressed except for when she’s not with me and she’s with Michael or someone.” he says.

“Or Louis?” asks the Boomer man.

“Yup.” says Lem.

Skyfall by Adele plays.

“So…maybe you…aren’t gay.” says the Boomer woman. She shrugs.

“No. Because if I say I’m not gay…then you’ll all try to make me something else like pansexual or bisexual.” he says.

“And we’ll make you be with a man somehow?” asks the male Boomer.

“Yes. I would rather not.” says Lem politely.

“Well that’s okay Lem. You can just be in a monogamous, heterosexual eternal relationship that looks like marriage to my generation of humans.” says the male Boomer. “I won’t stop you from calling yourself gay for self-protective reasons.”

“It’s more out of a celebration of my life.” says Lem.

“Okay, but Lem…you aren’t actually gay.” says the Boomer woman.

“No. That’s true.” says the Boomer man.

“Can’t I still wear the label?” he asks the Boomers. “It was the best ever.”

“Umm…” the Boomers struggle.

“No, I mean…you asked us to answer your question.” says the Boomer woman.

“The thing is Lem, you aren’t necessarily actually gay.” says the Boomer man.

Lem looks upset.

“And because of that…I don’t think it’s a safe label for you to use.” the Boomer man says apologetically.

“But then what’s she going to do?!” asks Lem of Lacey.

“Oh, you mean because she’s gay?!” asks the Boomer woman.

“Lem is she attracted to women? Or has she even ever engaged in sexual contact of any sort with a woman that she was aware of?” asks the man.

“No.” says Lem.

“Okay…then I think it’ll be alright.” says the Boomer male.

Lem looks worried.

“No really, I think it’ll all work out.” says the Boomer woman to Lem.

“Really Lem. There’s a lot to be said for being heterosexual.” says the Boomer male.

“We need to consider that label, I guess.” Lem says to the Boomers.

“Well, and if you’re a ghost and you’re being understood and being honest…this is a very unusual situation. …But…” the Boomer woman shrugs. “A lot of things are getting really bad.”

“And that’s not to say that being a heterosexual is bad. But being in an eternally monogamous relationship starting in life…with a dead man…is…not a good sign.” says the Boomer woman. “It makes me wonder if we really are at the end of the world.”

“Yeah, because…that divide is like…supposed to exist.” says the Boomer man laughing. “As in, why does it genuinely seem like you two are actually together?” He thinks. “You’re dead, Lem. She’s not. She’s only 40.”

“Well…” says the woman.

“I wonder if you’ve even lived 40 years.” says the Boomer man.

“Well…thankfully you all decided she was gay. So now she’s just with me.” says Lem.

“No! Lem, that’s not what we decided. Remember?” asks the Boomer woman.

“No, we did. But we were wrong.” says the Boomer man.

“We acknowledge that.” says the Boomer woman.

A mayor shakes his head in disgust. “What right do you have to say Lem is straight? It’s witchcraft anyway! …And I’ll tell you something, no one could pretend to be gay. That could never happen.” he says.

“Do you pretend?” asks a woman with Louis.

He smiles. “I’m gay.”

“How do we know that?!” she asks.

“Why would I run around with my husband and act gay if I’m not gay?” he asks.

“Because it’s cool to be gay now.” says the woman.

He simmers in a rage. “Fine! Ask Lacey.”

“Ask her what?!” says the woman.

“Ask her if I seem gay? Like, actually gay.” he says.

“Well, does he?” she asks Lacey.

“Lem impersonated homosexuality so well. There’s a similar look. But…it’s just a strong gut sense I get from probably both my spirit and my observations of his micro gestures.” She sighs. “But he looks gay.”

“Like gay or bisexual?” asks a hater.

“Gay.” says Lacey.

“It’s super subtle.” says The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“Why can’t you accept her intelligence? And good intentions?” Margaret Thatcher asks them in a real huff.

“Because I can’t stand that she knows that.” says a lesbian. “Especially when everyone else doesn’t necessarily.”

“But it’s good someone does. Right?!” asks the former Prime Minister.

The woman contemplates that.

Beautiful by Snoop Dogg plays.

“Umm. Lacey. Serious question time.” says a a lesbian in a group of three lesbians at the table sitting across from her.

“Okay…so…we aren’t trying to accuse you of anything.” says a Gen X one. She’s a beautiful woman. Very trendy. Lacey wouldn’t have imagined she was a lesbian.

“See…you look confused.” says the lesbian.

“Yes.” says Lacey.

“Yes, as in she’s confused!” yells Lem from a table nearby. “She agrees that she’s confused.”

“Okay. Cool. Why?” asks the lesbian.

“Because I would never have figured you were a homosexual.” says Lacey. “And I have always had the sense that you all think I’m the gay one. Almost in a grossed-out, I’m-a-freak way.”

She nods. They all look troubled. Confidence wavering.

“Hey. That’s okay.” says the one who talked.

“So…here’s the thing: We are gay.” says the one sitting in the middle.

Lacey looks concerned about where this is going. She braces herself.

“How did you know the mayor was gay?” asks the first lesbian.

Lacey looks askew. “Probably through a combination of things. Some spiritual.”

They all nod.

“Yeah, but…we think it’s because you are attracted to men.” says the one sitting in the middle.

“Yeah. Like…umm…were you aroused by Lem?” the one on the end asks.

Heartless by Kayne West plays.

“Like…I get it.” says the first lesbian. “I find men attractive sometimes too…not like you…but…sometimes I do. And…maybe that makes me bisexual. But…I wonder if you pick up on their attraction to you?”

“You’re very polite. I think you’re someone who that could be true for.” says the lesbian in the middle.

“Like…you can sense that there’s something about the mayor that would never want you. And that genuinely repels you.” says the woman in the middle, feeling proud to be a woman.

They all smile.

Sweet Disposition plays.

“You respect the vibe.” she reiterates.

“And that’s good.” says the first lesbian.

“But…I don’t think you realize how much you are drawn to men.” says the lesbian on the far right of Lacey. “Not that you’re a philanderer.”

“And maybe you can’t actually tell much about other women.” says the first lesbian.

“I’ve noticed it’s a lot more difficult.” says Lacey.

“Yes. And you’ve been saying that and no one has corrected you for hateful reasons.” says the first lesbian.

“So…it’s not actually difficult with women. Then why are you all so adamant that I’m queer?!” asks Lacey.

They blink.

“We…don’t want you to be straight.” says the first lesbian.

“Why?” asks Lacey.

“Because you’re pretty.” says the middle lesbian.

“It’s just…sad.” says the first lesbian.

“That I’m straight?!” asks Lacey.

“Yeah. You’re really pretty!” says the first lesbian.

Lacey’s eyes grow wide. Alert.

“Well that’s nice.” says Lacey.

They all sit in silence for a moment.

“Thank you for telling me.” says Lacey.

“You know, it’s not nice. You don’t think it’s nice.” says the woman in the middle.

“No. It’s sad.” says Lacey.

“Why?” asks the lesbian on the far right of Lacey.

“I’m not loved. By almost any living people. And it’s stuff like this that always reminds me of that.” says Lacey.

“Why?” asks the lesbian in the middle.

“I should know this.” says Lacey. “I shouldn’t have to bother you all.”

“How would you know?!” asks the lesbian in the middle.

“Because I should realize I’m pretty.” says Lacey. “And so drawn to men.”

“And being so well-bred you know your haters will just use this violently against you.” says the first lesbian. “As a way to try to class shame you.”

“Or decide to think you’re an idiot.” says lesbian on the far right. “Oh, she must just be an idiot!”

“Dear God, that’s awful.” says the woman in the middle.

“It is.” says the first lesbian.

“But I think we just meant…to be honest…that it’s normal you lack lesbiandar.” says the lesbian in the middle.

“What does a non-straight woman seem like?!” asks Lacey. “Like…why, again, could you think I am?”

They all think.

“It’s a certain defiance.” says the first lesbian.

“Defiance of what?” asks Lacey.

“The so-called norm.” says the middle lesbian.

“I’m defiant. But I’m straight. You don’t think tons of other people are?“ asks Lacey.

“You’re strange!” says the mayor to Lacey, interrupting the conversation.

Lacey finds it genuinely idiotic. Ignores it.

The lesbian in the middle freaks out.

Woah! Be reasonable!” she says to the mayor.

He blinks. “I’m not necessarily being…serious.” he says.

“Trying to provoke her is probably really stupid.” says the first lesbian.

He squints. Laughs. Sees Betty Draper slapping her neighbor in the grocery store in his head.

“There are tons of other pe-“ starts a Boomer before catching on.

“Okay, but like…you aren’t…in a group.” says the lesbian in the middle.

“Maybe old-money. But…you seem so…dead.” says the first lesbian.

“And it’s exciting to think about making you feel alive.” says the lesbian on the far right of Lacey.

Lacey thinks.

“What about you reaction to all of us isn’t maternal?” asks the first lesbian of Lacey.

“Possibly not much.” says Lacey.

“That’s…an interesting perspective on culture.” says the lesbian in the middle.

“It is. I suspect it’s why I seem defiant.” says Lacey. “And dead.”

“So in the Greatest Generation what would have seemed defiant?” asks the lesbian in the middle.

“We probably all seem defiant and defensive to her.” says a perfume hater.

“True.” says Lacey.

“Well, we’re not.” says another perfume hater.

“What is the norm?!” asks Lacey.

“You know…you might not get it.” says the lesbian in the middle.

“Right. So what is it?” asks Lacey.

“It’s unspoken. And so just experienced.” says the lesbian in the middle.

“You don’t get us.” says the first lesbian.

“Your instinct is to just parent all of us instead.” says the middle lesbian.

“Honestly, what do we seem like to you?” she asks.

“Colder. Both less intuitive and less rational.” says Lacey. “But also more confident and rebellious and independent.” She thinks. “Less…sad. Ironically.”

The lesbian in the middle smiles.

“We think we’re sad.” she says.

“Yes! But I think in the past being very sad on a certain level was normal. Not unhappy. Necessarily. Just a tolerable amount of sadness.” says Lacey.

“And it’s progress or not that we are less sad?” asks the first lesbian.

“Both progress and regress?” says Lacey.

“And if our sadness is caused by societal woes…then it’s obviously bad we’re sad at all?” says the lesbian in the middle.

“True.” says Lacey. “Possibly.”

“Would a lesbian have been defiant in your generation?” asks the first lesbian.

“I’m not sure how they would have stood out. …But maybe not.” says Lacey. “Maybe they would have found other ways.” She thinks. Jack comes to mind.

Transgender plays.

“I wonder. Would they have tried harder to blend in or given-up? And just been…obviously different.” says Lacey.

“Like not counter-culture. Just…possibly offensive.” says a drag queen. “So-called counter culture.”

“You’re a cold person.” says the lesbian in the middle. “Like not even being mean. You’re…” She thinks. “We are sooo abrasive to you. Constantly. But you’re not mean. You’re actually kind.” She giggles. “It’s like we’ve trapped our grandparent or great grandparent in our generation and forced them to try to belong.”

“You always thought I was a fraud. It’s why you patronized our fake friendship. You thought I was a con artist.” says The Loudest Perfume Hater to Lacey.

“Yes.” says Lacey.

“Maybe that’s true on a certain level.” a black perfume hater says to The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“So everything seems freakish.” says a Boomer Lacey.

“You enjoy Lana Del Rey though?” asks a hater.

“Yes.” says Lacey.

“It’s facetious and yet fun and elegant to you.” she says. “It’s actually very difficult to be so in tune with a past aesthetic. And I think she does it well without seeming derivative or old fashioned.”

“Our grandmothers find you abrasive or our grandfathers find you attractive?” wonders a Millennial.

“She’s not abrasive.” says Doris Day. “You wouldn’t like me either.”

“Why are you angry, Doris?!” asks the mayor.

“I’m standing up for her.” says Doris.

“But you seem offended and offensive.” says a Millennial woman.

“Who are you to tell me that she’s not abrasive?! You’re not my mom!” says a Millennial.

“I’m just explaining.” says Doris Day.

“Well don’t! You have to learn to shut-up!!” yells a gay man.

“Why should she shut-up?” asks Lacey.

“I’m not answering that! That’s not fair!” says the gay man.

“Why isn’t it fair?” asks Lacey.

“Because I don’t want to go potty! And you already know I hate birthday cake.” he says.

“What’s wrong with birthday cake?” asks Lacey.

“You make it too sweet!” he seethes.

“Do I. I’m sorry.” says Lacey.

“What do you want for your birthday? I have five Dollars.” he says.

“Nothing!” says Lacey.

“I can get a card?” he asks, concerned.

“Make me one and save your money. Put it in a savings account.” says Lacey. “A good one.”

He thinks. “I don’t have a savings account.” It suddenly freaks him out. He suddenly feels an almost obsessive need to get a savings account

“Be careful. You could buy silver.” Lacey says to him.

“I should!” he says. “That’s better.”

“The right kind of silver though. Research it. And be conservative. Don’t let them fool you.” says Lacey.

“They won’t!! Don’t worry, Grandma!” he says.

“You take care of yourself.” says Lacey.

“I can!” he says.

“Then do it!” says Lacey.

He smiles. He feels happy and doesn’t know why.

Lighthouse by Patrick Watson plays.

“Why are my parents divorced?!” asks the first lesbian of Lacey.

“If I knew them I’d probably have an idea.” says Lacey. “I’m sorry I don’t know them.”

“That’s okay.” says the first lesbian.

“I’m sorry I don’t know them, sweetie!” says Lacey.

Chemtrails Over The Country Club plays.

“Why don’t people like us?” asks a perfume hater about her and her family.

“They don’t like you?” asks Lacey.

“They’re cold.”

“You both seem a little fake and overly sure of yourselves.” says Lacey.

“Overly sure of ourselves.”

“Yes. Like…you assume a lot of authority. It’s not entirely clear you have it.”

“Is that just abrasive to people?” he asks.

“I think they feel like they should give you respect. Automatically. …But then when they start to doubt your authority they resent the way they felt so subservient at first.”

“Kind of like you, huh?” he scoffs.

“No. Not like me. See, this why they don’t like you. You just tricked me. Are you a mannerly, introspective intellectual? Or are you a street peddler?”

“Both.” he says too familiarly.

“Hmm. That’s interesting.” says Lacey.

His wife looks mortified. She laughs.

“He’s not a street peddler. He’s just egotistical.” she says.

“Why do I care? I mean, I care. I do. But…why do I care?”

“I liked you.” she says.

“No, you didn’t. That’s a lie, little girl. Now, as much as I wish you well…leave me alone. Now.”

“Do you know why they hated you?” asks a hater.

“No.” says Lacey.

“Really!? That was a super cool trick. They just did the narcissistic thing. To try to trap you.” says Mr. Blue.

“What did I say I was?” says Lacey. “What are the results?”

“A mannerly intellectual. And at worst too nice. Maybe too confident. Authoritative. Married to a woman. And a possible street peddler if you’re lying.” says Mr. Blue.

Lose Yourself plays as one of her possible theme songs.

“I think they were trying to say you were egotistical and abrasive.” says The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“That’s intellectually bankrupt.” says Lacey to all involved in the last conversation.

“Fine! It doesn’t work because you’re not like me. You’re not a narcissist.” says Mr. Blue.

“Okay. So…you think people don’t like us?!” the man in the perfume community asks, appalled.

“It seemed plausible. I wouldn’t have said that. But it seemed plausible.” says Lacey.

“Holy fuck, hun. People love them.” says some random perfume hater.

“I doubt it.” says Lacey. “Listen, I have a feeling it’s complicated and I don’t know. How should I?”

His wife nods her head.

“I got jealous of you.” he says.

“Is this a trick?” asks Lacey.

“No.” he says.

“That’s so petty. It was just over follower numbers. Wasn’t it?” asks Lacey.

“No.” says a gay perfume collector to Lacey.

“What was it about? My background?” she asks, confused.

He smiles and nods.

“You know, someone told me you were attacked for how much perfume you had.” says Lacey. “And you responded by saying that you’d worked hard for it.”

“We did.” says his wife proudly.

He nods in agreement.

“How hard?” asks Lacey.

“Well, okay. It’s not like we worked in a coal mine. …But it took hours. And saving.” she says.

“And I bet that made you introspective about your purchases.” says Lacey.

He nods emphatically.

“I approached it totally differently.” says Lacey. “And that’s due to my perspective.”

“What was your technique?!” asks a blogger.

“It was purely intellectual and sensorial for me. I think I explained. But to say it again, I meant to explore the craft bit by bit. Note by note. Starting with a historical overview.” says Lacey. “I didn’t know what was out there yet.”

“People acted like you were an authority.” says the gay collector.

“Yes. And maybe I knew more at some point than most people. I was writing almost daily for a while.” says Lacey. “And I was good at analyzing it.”

“But you wouldn’t call yourself an expert?” asks a hater.

“That’s stupid! Of course not! I’ve said as much.” says Lacey. “I never call myself an expert very intentionally. You likely know that.”

“You are dumb! You are beneath me!” he spits.

“That’s dumb.” says Lacey.

“Because you came to learn. And he feels superior for having collected seriously longer.” says a perfume hater.

“What gatekeeping!” says Lacey.

George Washington almost manifests in her room. It startles her. It’s a sign she needs to stop writing

“I’m sorry. I will have to ignore your hatred.” says Lacey to the angry hater.