Days became weeks, and weeks became months, and Michael and I were staying longer than expected. A lot longer. Therefore, Michael had gotten a job at the local gas station, in addition to the work at the farm, just so we could pay a little rent, buy some clothes and save up some. In the beginning, I borrowed clothes from Ennio's late wife. But I could feel Ennio's sadness when he saw me wearing them, so I quickly decided that I needed to buy some of my own. Besides, my stomach was starting to grow so big, that her clothes wouldn't fit anymore.
Luckily, it seemed like Emanuel and Ennio were satisfied with our help. Especially the old man, who we learned suffered from an old back injury that forced him to sleep in a chair instead of a bed. And even though I felt really sorry for him, I soon realized that he was happy the way things were, bed or no bed. He even picked up on some English words too, because of me. And smilingly, he teached me some more Spanish in return. He was a really sweet man, as was his son, and since we were living pretty cramped in their small house, our friendships grew impressingly strong in only a short amount of time.
There was only one thing, though. We never told them we were fugitives and wanted by the Police. Emanuel asked a few times about our lives before we came to Cuba, but I only answered vaguely before I managed to distract him by talking about other things instead, and after a while, he stopped asking. It felt really bad, though, but that's just the way it had to be. But there was also one other thing that made me feel guilty, and that was that we had to go behind their backs to get the medicine Michael needed.
One day when the veterinarian was checking up on one of the cows, we managed to take the vet aside and explain, half in English and half in Spanish, which medicine we needed prescription for. And even though it wasn't exactly the same as Michael had used back home, the small, chubby man said it had the similar stimulants, and therefore had the same function. And he was probably right too, because Michael hadn't changed since we got here. Not even once. My life was better than in years.
One early Saturday night, we were having a barbeque, just the four of us, and Michael was busy getting the lamb chops as close to perfection as possible. The salad and the rice was already on the table, and Ennio was smoking his pipe. Emanuel was playing old 60's songs on his guitar, and I hummed along while I soaked up the last rays of the setting sun. I gently stroke over my belly, feeling how the little one was having a soccer match in there, and I wasn't actually looking forward till he or she got bigger, since it was unpleasant enough as it was, only six months pregnant. Even though the thought of having a baby had scared me half to death at first, I had grown into the idea of becoming a mother, and found myself even looking forward to it. And the closeness I felt with Michael every night when he stroke my belly until we both fell asleep, was something I wouldn't trade for anything.
As we began to eat, the conversation flew lightly, as it always did, with jokes and stories, or just topics from our everyday life. But I noticed Michael kept quiet. He especially studied every move Emanuel did, and I even caught him frowning and clenching his fists a few times. If I didn't know any better, I would've thought he was turning into Mr. Jackson.
Haha! Good one, Gail. You know he's taking his medicine, and he hasn't changed in weeks. No, months! You're imagining things. Or... Maybe you miss him a little? NOOOO! I most certainly don't miss him! Yeah... Keep telling yourself that.
I took no further notice of it, until Emanuel wanted to show me something he'd read in the newspaper. But since my Spanish still kinda sucked, he spent some time explaining what it was about, and it became natural that he put his hand around my back and leaned forward as he pointed at a paragraph on one of the pages.
Suddenly there was a loud 'BAM' as Michael had slammed both of his hands onto the table so two of the glasses got knocked over, and Ennio's knife and fork fell to the ground.
"A bit too close there, aren't we? Gail?"
Oh-oh... He's back. There's no doubt! This is the one and only, Mr. Jackson. And he's more pissed than ever. Evacuate!
All three of us stared at him; Ennio and Emanuel mostly in surprise, but me? I was wringing my brain, trying to find a way to get us out of it without having to explain about Michael's disorder. I couldn't. There simply was no other way around, because Mr. Jackson hung over the table, glaring daggers at Emanuel, while he fumed like a dog with rabies. Poor Emanuel didn't understand a thing, but quickly withdrew from his position next to me.
I snapped my fingers in front of Mr. Jackson, and excused us, before I literally dragged him by the sleeve into the house, like he was a defiant three year old. And in many ways, he was too.
"WHO'S THAT FUCK OUT THERE DROOLING ALL OVER YOU?!" he yelled, and I swear I wanted to gag him with whatever I could get my hands on. I didn't, though. But I immediately shushed him, and scowled at him strictly enough to make him lower his voice. But then he discovered my baby bump.
"HE KNOCKED YOU UP?!? THAT DICKHEAD GOT YOU PREGNANT?! YOU'RE FUCKING KIDDING ME!"
"SHUT UP, JACKSON! OR I'LL DO SOMETHING WE'RE BOTH REGRET!"
I glared at his crotch long enough to make him understand my point, and his gaze flickered a bit, before he clenched his jaw.
"How could you do this to me? To a boy like that?! He looks like a friggin farmer! I thought you..."
"That's because he is a farmer! And if you must know, you should take a look at yourself, because you're literally wearing the same kind of clothes as him. And he's no boy, but a nice young man, that..."
He cut me off long before I got to say what I needed to say to calm him down.
"Wants to fuck the daylights out of your pussy! If he hasn't already?"
He scowled at my stomach again, so I... slapped him.
"Don't you dare say that! Not to him. Not to me. He's nothing but a good friend, and he and his dad has been extremely generous to let us stay here so long. But if you can't behave civilized, they're gonna kick us out before you can spell your own name!"
"Ow... Feisty as always, Ms. Wetherby?"
"I'm not Ms. Wetherby anymore, I'm Mrs. Jackson."
"WHAT?! WE GOT MARRIED?! WHERE WAS I?"
"WHO KNOWS?!"
I threw my arms out in the air, and contemplated whether to slap him again, or slap myself instead.
Oh... You never told him that, did you, Gail? Well, it wasn't the first thing that came to mind when I puked my intestines out in between my nervous breakdowns, because I was terrified of heights!
"I forgot to tell you when you sent me off in that stupid balloon of yours, and you didn't care much even that you saw how scared I was. And my puking was morning sickness, by the way, so there's no doubt that the kid is yours!"
"But our wedding night...!" he groaned.
"Wedding night?! Fuck the wedding night!"
"That's what I had planned..."
"Oh, my God! I just told you you're gonna be a father, and you're more concerned that you couldn't nail me to the nearest wall on that one special night? You have got the dirtiest mind on the planet!"
"Of course I have a dirty mind! And you just ran through it. Naked."
I had huge troubles containing myself by now. He couldn't seriously mean what he was saying?! But since he finally was silent for a while, I managed to convince myself that it wasn't worth kneeing him. The mental shock was already enough as it was, and I could only imagine the chaos of thoughts running through his mind. But then a sly smirk came to his lips, before he attacked me with kisses.
"You're pregnant with my baby? And you're my wife?! That's the best news I've had in a long while!"
Because it's the only news he's had in a long time. Yell at him, Gail! He's obviously not been taking his medicine as he promised.
He hugged me tightly, before he held me out on arms length so he could properly see me.
"You're fucking hot like this, Gail. That little bump there? So goddamn gorgeous... Where can we fuck?"
I rolled my eyes at him, still quite angry at him, but not enough that I couldn't help but to blush and smile a little.
"No, no, Sir. There will be nothing of that kind, until you've told them you're sorry. I'm so embarrassed for what you did out there! They've been so nice to us, and you flip out like a friggin lemming?! Get your ass out there and apologize! NOW!"
He didn't even get to answer. I just pushed him in front of me, out the door and back to the two shocked men, who were sitting there, still with large eyes and a seriously worried expression on their faces.
I cleared my voice.
"Ennio. Emanuel. This gentleman has something to tell you."
I still helt a firm grip on his shirt, because I feared that he'd run away if I didn't. And when he didn't answer at first, my grip tightened even more.
"Jackson!" I yelled.
"Okay! I'm sorry."
"And...?"
He looked at me, confused.
"And what?!"
"You are grateful that we've been allowed to stay here for such a long time, and that you've got something to tell them."
All the blood disappeared from his head, as his face got pale as a sheath. Then he begged me with his eyes, shaking his head so slightly that you could mistake it for just turning his head.
"Nooo..." he whispered.
"Yes," I stated, already determined to tell them, simply because they deserved to know.
"But..."
"Look, if you don't do it, then I will."
He looked bashfully to the ground, and mumbled something
"Say what?"
"You do it."
I pursed my lips and narrowed my eyes at him, before I turned to Ennio and Emanuel, while we sat back down at the table.
"You..." I started, but didn't quite know how to break the news.
"You have gotten to know him..."
I nodded towards Mr. Jackson.
"...as Michael. And don't get me wrong, he still is...in there...somewhere. It's just that... Michael has a personality disorder that makes him into a five in one package? No. Six in one now."
Mr. Jackson turned to me looking like a question mark.
"Six?! Since when?"
"Since... Whatever."
I turned back to Emanuel and Ennio, and continued.
"He's sweet, gentle Michael, who you know. And that's who he is at the bottom."
"Heey!" Mr. Jackson interrupted, but I shushed him away with a twist with my wrist.
"Then, it's this guy, who I call Mr. Jackson, because... Uhm."
Because he demands you to, Gail. And if you don't obey, he punishes you with his monstrous penis until you're unable to walk. Yeah... And you fucking love every second of it! No, you don't. Yes, you do...
"Just because I need different names to keep them apart."
Nice move. It wasn't even a lie.
"And then we have Michaela, that you met the first day we were here. She was the oddball that you talked about, remember?" I asked Emanuel.
"SHE?!" Emanuel and Mr. Jackson said simultaneously, and Ennio just chuckled in amusement. I was sure his English was good enough that he understood what we were talking about, at least parts of it.
"Yes, she. She's a fashion guru, or so she thinks, and..."
I didn't get any further, because Mr. Jackson slammed his hands on the table, - again, and made us all jump.
"Will you knock it off?!" I snapped, and watched him stomp away from us.
I sighed.
"Nevermind him. He always gets moody when I talk about his other personalities. He'll calm down."
Both men looked at each other, not quite knowing what to believe. So I told them most of what was important to understand about Michael, and now also Mr. Jackson, so it wouldn't freak them out. Still, judging by the looks on their faces, I almost because certain that we were going to be kicked out.
"Don't worry. He'll do what I tell him to do, so everything can continue as before."
Hopefully, Gail. You know he only listen to what he wants to hear. You said so yourself.
The two men only stared at me. I waited for the longest for them to say something, but there was only...
...Silence.