Obsessive Compulsion

By Harald Lutz Bruckner

Favored with a brilliant mind, Plácido falls victim to an uncontrollable inner voice.

Obsessive Compulsion opens days before Plácido's birth, his parents having escaped from a Tijuana prison. It becomes evident at a very young age that the boy is exceptionally gifted but unfortunate to be born into a dysfunctional family. When he is three

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hideaway Park Press
• Release date: Jan 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9798985338416

Harald Lutz Bruckner

Harald Lutz Bruckner, author of The Blue Sapphire Amulet, Escape on the Astral Express, A Wanderer on the Earth, The Born-Again Phoenix, Harald's Garland, Lighthouse Mystery, Doretta's Damnation, A Backward Glance at Eden, Obsessive Compulsion, and Forever Greta hails from Germany but has spent his adult life in the United States. His work and educational adventures have taken him from merchandising/retailing, the teaching of German and World Literature, to a career in Audiology and the challenges of working with hard-of-hearing and deaf children and adults. Among his favorite academic subjects to teach were his offerings in sign language. In 1981, he discovered the magic of painting in transparent watercolors and has never stopped painting. Moving to sunny Arizona from the high country of Colorado in 2003, caused a major shift in his subject matter, changing from a primarily realistic orientation to one of total abstraction. Since his retirement from academia, Bruckner pursued his passions for travel, art, music, and the enjoyment of writing.

Book preview

Chapter 1

CARLOS and Juanita Barrera walked across the border into Tijuana on a Sunday morning with one purpose in mind. They ignored hundreds of men offering taxi rides. Carlos knew where to look for Ricardo—his man. He spotted him within minutes, leaning in a lazy stance against the trunk of a dead tree. Buenos dias, señor. Ricardo tipped the sombrero that shaded his face and hid his dark eyes. He smiled at Juanita. Buenos dias, señora.

Ricardo knew his customers well and reached into his pocket, retrieving the desired merchandise in one swift motion. Carlos knew the price and sought the money neatly folded in the right pocket of his bomber jacket. Shaking hands and nodding at each other in approval sealed the transaction. The exchange was smooth—one might have said flawless.

Carlos took Juanita’s left arm, steering her in the direction of El Dandy del Sur. He liked the atmosphere at the old bar and was known by some of the regular bartenders. Una margarita para señora, por favor. Carlos tilted his head in Juanita’s direction. Un pacifico para mi. The bartender smiled with approval at Carlos’s attempts at sounding local. Carlos twisted the cap off the bottle he held in his left hand and tossed the colorful sealer into a dish holding hundreds of dead beer bottle caps. Before taking his first swallow, he touched Juanita’s margarita. Salud, he said and then withdrew a joint from his pocket. He seized a packet of matches staring back at him from the face of the bar. He lit the joint. Carlos deeply inhaled before he passed the forbidden fruit to Juanita.

He could feel the firm touch of a hand on his right shoulder. "Estás bajo arresto!" [You are under arrest] Carlos knew better than to argue. They were in trouble. Uniformed policias took them to the closest station. Officer Ramirez took a particular liking to Juanita during the mandatory strip search. It wasn’t a question of being patted down; she knew she was being sexually assaulted during the brief stint in the flimsy examination stall.

They freed Carlos of all he wore in wide-open space, the friendly onlookers laughing at his alabaster torso. Garments were searched and pockets emptied. Their passports were thrown into a collection box. Next they were photographed and fingerprinted. They had permission to make one phone call. Carlos opted to reach his neighbor in San Ysidro before he was transported to La Mesa Prison, CERESO Tijuana.

Officer Perez handed all confiscated belongings of the Barreras to Rodriguez, the intake officer at the jail. They are all yours. Lock’em up for good. Ramirez pushed Juanita toward his buddy, Diego. He made a crude gesture, conveying to his friend what he envisioned to happen to the latest prey he had secured for him. Diego nodded in agreement. I’ll see to it, was all he replied. He glared at Carlos. "Sígueme" [follow me] he yelled.

The trio walked along the expanse of an endless concrete path, the sounds of their footsteps bouncing off the hard surfaces. They listened to commentary by inmates in various languages. One didn’t need to understand a particular language to grasp the implied meaning of the utterances. Diego signaled them to halt in front of cell #685. He unlocked the steel gate and pushed Carlos inside. "Disfrutar! [enjoy] Diego hissed and locked the gate. The gate to #686 didn’t need opening. The single, small cell was presently unoccupied. He grabbed Juanita and kissed her brutally. Hasta luego!" [see you later]. He threw her down hard onto the bunk covered in filthy sheeting. He slammed the gate and made sure it was firmly locked. It was opus one in a long string of devastating days, and particularly nights, for both Juanita and Carlos.

After their first night of being fed in the canteen, they were taken back to their respective cells. Franco, Carlos’s cellmate, decided to test the waters. He was more than twice the size of this new inmate who was actually in good shape, having recently been discharged from the U.S. Navy. Franco took one look at Carlos and knew he would enjoy the taste of new meat. When lights out sounded, he made his move. He tore off his own prisoner’s uniform and faced Carlos who confronted his fate. Carlos realized he was outweighed by his oppressor and submitted to the merciless invasion of his body. When Franco succeeded in reaching satisfaction, he tossed Carlos like a rag doll onto his bunk. Juanita was fully aware of what transpired in the cell next to hers.

Her turn of becoming too closely acquainted with Officer

Diego came after midnight. She had finally succumbed to fitful sleep after she tuned out the chorus of snoring males surrounding her. It was a tiny hissing sound that awakened her. She discovered later that it was the spray of lubricant onto the lock of her cell that awakened her. It had allowed Diego to turn the key without making a sound and to enter her space nearly undetected. He reached for her and pressed his wet lips into her left ear. "No hagas un sonido, [Don’t make a sound] he hissed. In a matter of seconds, he’d freed himself of his uniform and disrobed Juanita. He stood behind her and pinched her breasts fiercely. He kept repeating his earlier threat as he entered her with force from the rear. As he climaxed he whispered, Disfrutar! Disfrutar! He spun her around and bit the nipple of her right breast, causing her to wince in pain. Pushed with vehemence, she landed on the hard floor among the rags that had been her prison garb. Te veo de nuevo pronto" [See you again soon]. Diego succeeded in making a quiet exit. Juanita’s stifled sobbing awoke Carlos.

images/img-10-1.jpg

Franco sought his pleasures with Carlos almost daily unless he’d succeeded in smuggling in a bottle of booze, rendering him impotent for the night. Diego continued his visits of Juanita with regularity and sometimes in the company of Miguel, another horny guard on duty. On these occasions, the two of them would take turns raping and sodomizing Juanita simultaneously. Their interest waned when they discovered that Juanita was with child.

images/img-10-1.jpg

Juanita had no inkling that she was pregnant on that infamous Sunday so long ago when they ventured into Tijuana. As she thought about it, she was positive that Carlos was the father of the child she was bearing and not that of the guards who’d accosted her. She had often heard Carlos’s outcries during the night when he was sodomized by his brute of a cellmate. Juanita was eternally grateful that Diego was agreeable to house them in adjacent cells and that she didn’t have to share the small space with another inmate. The only time she and Carlos talked freely was during their daily forced exercise marches in the fenced-in courtyard.

Carlos and Juan, one of the other prisoners, became better acquainted during these exercise marches in the prison yard and plotted the breakaway from the inhumane confinement in which Carlos and Juanita had found themselves for the past nine months.

I feel sorry for your wife and don’t want her to bring your child into this world inside this hellhole. I’ve made a deal with my gay lover, one of the other guards. He’s willing to help us out of this place Saturday night. Have Juanita pretend she’s going into labor. He’ll make sure to have all three of us in the infirmary in no time. I’m not exactly sure how he will get us out of here, but I trust him. He told me that Diego and Miguel will be out of the picture. They were furloughed for bringing in dope and selling it big time to prisoners.

Could’ve fooled me. Never offered as much as a joint to poor me, Carlos commented.

I’ll take care of that; you just wait. Once we make it to the crossing, I’ll get us to San Ysidro, Juan assured Carlos.

If we succeed, you can stay with us. Our home is small, but you will be safe until you can find a better place to hang your hat. I scribbled down our address in San Ysidro. Tell your lover he may come see you anytime. We’ll make sure you have your privacy when he comes calling on you, Carlos whispered softly.

Alejandro, that’s my guy, assured me he’ll lift your passports and mine from the prison files. They will come in handy once we’re ready to reenter the States. If I were you, I’d not cross the border ever again—for any reason. I sure won’t. Mexican authorities won’t come after us in the States. If we’re caught again in Mexico, we’d be goners. You getting my drift, Carlos? I’m sure you can get a hold of some pot in San Diego.

They didn’t catch us buying or selling. We were having a drink at the bar at El Dandy del Sur and were sharing a joint when the policia civil raided the place and arrested us. I had the feeling we’d been watched by the officers when I had my little transaction with Ricardo. When they strip-searched me, they found the weed in my jacket. Next, we found our asses sitting in this hellhole. Carlos struck his left palm with his right fist.

Juan spoke softly. Remember, sometime after eleven on Saturday, have Juanita do her thing. Alejandro will do the rest. In her state, it shouldn’t be too difficult to make it convincing. I’ll count on you to get it right. We need to blow this joint by midnight.

Carlos squeezed Juan’s hand, passing the scribbled address in San Ysidro.

images/img-10-1.jpg

Carlos was thankful he and Juanita had discovered the hole in the wall that allowed them to communicate with each other when Franco would finally succumb to sleep—nearly each night. The short piece of plastic straw inserted into the carefully dug crevice helped immensely. Having pleasured himself at Carlos’s expense, Franco was snoring loud enough to wake those in eternal sleep. Carlos tended to the straw and got Juanita’s attention.

Juan and his gay lover are getting us out of here this Saturday night. When you hear the clock strike eleven, start moaning and get a guard’s attention. Pretend that the baby is ready to pop out. To make it convincing, spill a couple of cups of water on the floor. The guard will buy it, believing your water has broken. Got it? We can’t screw this up.

I can hardly hear what you are saying. Franco is snoring so loudly. She repeated what she thought she had understood Carlos to say. He confirmed. Juanita asked how he was.

Franco gave me the royal treatment earlier. My ass is sore. Otherwise, I’m fine. Can’t wait to get the fuck out of here.

images/img-10-1.jpg

Alejandro had personally unlocked Juan’s cell and smuggled him down to the infirmary. As planned, Juanita got the attention of the new guard—just a greenhorn. My water broke seconds ago. Let my husband help you to get me down to the infirmary. She moaned and nearly knocked the young kid off his feet. Go, unlock my husband’s cell. He’s strong. With his help, you’ll get me down to the doctor—pronto. It helped that she spoke fluent Spanish. His ear caught the Argentinian inflection. I presume there’s a doc on duty? She moaned loud enough to wake most of the other prisoners. El bebé, el bebé, echoed up and down the long hallway of La Mesa Prison.

The trio safely made it down to the infirmary. The doctor ordered all but Alejandro out, pretending he was getting ready to do the delivery. He was wearing a surgical mask and had donned gloves, getting Juanita ready to climb on the delivery table. He made sure all doors but the one to the outside were locked and instructed Alejandro to stay clear. With the door left wide open, Carlos and Juan, firmly holding on to Juanita, escaped into the coolness of night and made their way to the border crossing.

images/img-10-1.jpg

Carlos and Juanita hunkered down under a large fig tree near the Río Tijuana just south of San Ysidro, a suburb of San Diego, California. Distant noises of glasses clinking and the sound of laughter and mariachis playing drifted through the night. The smells of freshly cooked tortillas wafted through the air as the scents of gardenias, chili, cinnamon, and panaderías competed for attention. The stars were so bright Carlos thought he could touch them. Neither could believe their good fortune of having been successful in their escape from jail. Juan was sucking on a joint his lover had stuck in his shirt pocket before they parted outside the prison. The men sealed their farewell with a passionate kiss.

Care to have a couple of puffs? You are safe now. It will relax you, Juan whispered. I’ve scoured the area. I’ll get us safely across the border. Alejandro gave me some dollars that ought to cover cab fare to your place once we get to the other side. Are you up to walking, Juanita? We should be okay with our passports. Let me handle it; I’ve done this once or twice. Juan winked at both of them.

Carlos held firmly onto Juanita as they made their trek across the badly damaged walkway. Nita nearly tripped a couple of times, catching her flimsy footwear on the raised cracks of the path. They followed Juan with trepidation as he approached the control booth. After a long day on duty, the drowsy border patrol officer flipped the passports open to the cover page and barely compared their photos to their faces. Next he found a visa page to affix the all-important stamp, denoting date of entry into the good old USA. Planted with a certain flair, the stamp read September 4, 1978. All safely landed, the three escapees rushed away into the darkness. Juan raised his hand and hailed the first cab he caught sight of.

6618 West Seaward Avenue, please.

Yes, sir. No luggage?

None. Spent the day in Tijuana. It was fun, Juan lied.

Juan smiled at Carlos and Juanita. No one said another word until they were out of the cab. Walking up to their humble abode, Carlos was thankful his neighbors obviously had taken care of the place in their absence. He felt good that he used the one phone call to get in touch with a friendly cohort. At least someone knew they weren’t killed during that Sunday adventure into Mexico. It was less than nine months ago that they were arrested; to Carlos and Juanita it felt like an eternity.

Chapter 2

WALKING into the small apartment, Juanita realized that the place had been starved for fresh air. Immediately she began opening all the windows while the men had their last cigarette of the day on the little balcony off the living room. As they smoked, Carlos’s eyes adjusted to the flashing neon sign proclaiming the wonders of the cheap bar located across the street.

Juan, who had previously glanced at Carlos’s passport as the border officer had perused the document, turned and asked a question. I couldn’t help noticing in your passport that you were born in Argentina. What gives?

My father immigrated to Argentina in 1954. He came from Germany. His name was Ferdinand Barkhoff. He changed his name to Fernando Barrera upon entry into the country. Fernando married my mother, Gertrud Gransky, two years later. Her parents had fled Germany during the 1920s; they were Communists who tried to make a living in the New World.

Man, sounds to me like you come from an illustrious family. Should I say—colorful? Were you born in Argentina? Juan asked.

Yes, I was born in Buenos Aires in 1957. After Juan Perón’s ouster during the coup d’état of 1955, Argentina became too unstable for my father; and he decided to try his luck in North America.

Did they immigrate to Canada or the States?

My folks moved to San Diego in 1958. My sister, Evita, was born here in 1959. Fernando and Gertrud ended their marriage in 1960—shortly after everyone in the family had become citizens.

Were your parents admirer’s of Perón?

My dad wasn’t. Mother was another story. She adored Evita Perón; deep down in her heart, she was a Nazi. She always wished she’d lived in Germany during the Nazi era. She worshipped Hitler from afar. Her parents sheltered some of those bastards in Bariloche after they fled Germany following WWII.

What does your old man do?

He remarried and studied at Berkeley and got his PhD in philosophy. These days he teaches in the Department of Philosophy at The University of San Diego. His second wife, Loretta, is a nice lady. I don’t see them often; Dad can’t stand the sight of my mother. He thinks she is a slut and as useless as a teat on a bull. I have to agree with my dad in some respects; all she ever does is drink black tea and smoke from dawn to dusk.

What about Juanita? What’s her story?

We met at that fleabag across the street, just having a friendly drink. She liked my goods and we tied the knot three years ago.

So, is this your kid she’s about to deliver?

I’m pretty certain it is. I know she was raped a time or two by the guards who took a shine to her. If it isn’t mine, I hope it wasn’t big Diego who knocked her up. He’s a mean sucker. I could hear her scream when he forcefully took her during the first few weeks in prison.

I’m glad that bastard never came close to me. That slob has quite the rep around the pen. He doesn’t care where he plants his dick. It was my luck that I got hooked up with Alejandro. I hope I haven’t seen the last of him. I made sure to share your address with our savior. He told me he’ll come across on his day off in a week or so. Hope you don’t mind a visit from our Good Samaritan.

Why would I? Thanks to him, we are no longer stuck in that hellhole. Juanita and I are praying he didn’t get himself in trouble. Helping us might cost him his life.

"That would be a rotten shame. He’s quite the lover. If it wasn’t for him, I probably wouldn’t have survived CERESO Tijuana. I was fresh meat for some of the hunks on both sides of the fence. A couple of the guards were worse brutes than the inmates. Think Diego.

"Well, let’s hit the sack. Glad Juanita welcomed me into your home. I’ll start looking for work as soon as I’ve recovered from my unfortunate incarceration. I was in the joint for more than three years. They picked me up for prostitution on La Revu, Revolution Ave.,Tijuana’s main drag near the U.S. border."

Were you soliciting?

No way, man. I was hard up, but not that hard up. I was looking for a hit of grass; that’s all. We’ll talk about it in daylight. I need a snooze. Glad Juanita went to bed as soon as she aired out the place. That walk across the border under the cloak of darkness wasn’t easy on her. When’s she expecting?

Any moment! Can’t wait to see what we made.

Chapter 3

PLÁCIDO Julio Barrera was born at six fifteen in the morning on September 15, 1978. He was a healthy eight-pound baby boy. No question about it, he was the son of Carlos Hernando Barrera. The new father was in the mood for celebrating the event with men friends and neighbors. He longed to get a hit somewhere. It had been a while since he was feeling high.

Juan suggested to the guys they join him at the Men’s Club— a well-known bar that allowed only males to cross its thresholds. Carlos discovered everything but a source for grass. The party, including the show of male strippers, was over by ten.

They tripped over their own feet, stumbling out of the cab. Juan couldn’t believe his eyes. Dressed like a dude, Alejandro stood by the entry to the apartment building. He was all in black from sombrero to his shiny cowboy boots. Leaning seductively against the wall, he had his feet crossed. Smiling from ear to ear, his piercing steel blue eyes were staring back at Juan.

Surprised? I promised you I’d come looking for you. You didn’t think I’d forget about you? I enjoyed your company too much. He reached out for Juan and embraced him. Juan was pleased to see his jailhouse lover had kept his word.

"Great you found us. As you can tell, Carlos and I done a little celebrating. His woman gave birth to a healthy boy this morning. Needed to have a night out with the boys. Come on in. Can you spend the night? We’ll have our own room. Juanita got me all fixed up before Carlos had to take her to the hospital. It’s a comfortable bed.

By the way, I’ve found myself a job. Well—sort of a job. I’ve been doing landscape work with a bunch of illegals. We usually stand on the corner down the street until someone comes by to offer us a job for the day. It’s worked out pretty good so far.

Carlos wasn’t too stable on his feet and was thankful for Alejandro’s steadying grasp on his left arm. He reached for the house keys in his right jean pocket and let the other two men go ahead of him once they were inside the hallway. Go ahead, Juan. Show Alejandro the way. Take the keys and let yourself in the apartment. It’ll take me a minute or two to manage my bod up those steps to the second floor. Don’t be shy. Offer your guy a Corona; I stocked up yesterday.

Will do. You sure you can handle those steps on your own? We’d be happy to give you a hoist. Juan, himself, wasn’t feeling any pains.

I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about a thing. I know you two are anxious to be alone for a spell. Make yourselves comfortable. Tell Alejandro he’s welcome to stay as long as he wishes. God, if it wasn’t for him, our son would’ve been born in jail.

Alejandro smiled looking back at Carlos who became aware of the mesmerizing blue eyes of their rescuer for the first time. Carlos couldn’t help admiring the uncharacteristic color of eyes staring back at him from the deeply tanned Hispanic face. You are one handsome dog. I can see why Juan fell for you. If I wasn’t straight, I could see myself being kissed by that sensuous mouth of yours. Don’t waste your time worrying about me getting my ass up those steps. Go on. Your lover is waiting for you upstairs. I’ll catch up with you in a minute or two.

Alejandro took the hint and charged up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. Juan was still fumbling with getting the key into the unfamiliar lock when he could feel his lover’s arms around him. He sensed that urgent need in the hot lips that were touching his neck.

Juan turned to face Alejandro. You have no idea how I’ve missed you since you helped us get out of that place.

Oh, yes! I do. I’ve missed you, too. He didn’t say another word and kissed Juan with intent. Let’s have that Corona and cool off a bit. I’m planning on staying the night and tomorrow. I have two days of freedom. No one knows that I crossed into the States. I’m free to come and go as I please. They heard Carlos on the landing and helped him the rest of the way into his apartment.

You made it, buddy. Come, let us park you in that oversized chair. Can I get you another beer? Remember, you are celebrating the birth of your son, Juan removed Carlos’s sombrero, dropping it accidentally on the floor.

I celebrated ‘nuff at the Men’s Club. What I need to do is sober up a bit. I need to check up on Juanita and the boy in the morning. They are in the hospital until Monday. Right after I bring them home, I need to report at work. I was lucky to get my old job back. I always was thankful that my work at the plant was appreciated. They are still going gung-ho building those chassis for desktop computers.

You are a lucky son of a gun, Juan said.

I’ll go hit the sack. I need to sleep off the celebration. You guys make yourselves comfy in the guest room. It’s not a big room but the mattress is good and easy on the back. We’ll talk over coffee in the morning. I need to be sober to hear from Alejandro how things played out after he got us out of the pen. Brrrrp! Excuse my manners. I had one too many at the club. It’s not everyday that one becomes a father for the first time. Sleep you good. In his drunken stupor, Carlos sounded like his German grandmother.

Juan and Alejandro helped him out of the sunken chair and guided him to his bedroom. It didn’t take them long to strip Carlos down to his skivvies before they tucked him in his bed. There would be no brushing of teeth tonight. They hadn’t quite turned their backs on Carlos when they became aware of the first sounds of snoring emanating from the rumpled bed behind them.

Let’s check out the soundness of that mattress in your room. I agree with Carlos. We can do all the talking we want in the morning, said Alejandro. He threw his black sombrero with a perfect toss, landing it on top of the dresser. His boots came off quickly with the help of a boot jack Juan had located in the closet. Juan kicked off his sneakers—socks and all. The guys assisted each other with the removal of the rest of their clothes. Within seconds they held each other and celebrated their closeness.

Alejandro embraced Juan. Buenas noches, mi amor. Even in the dimness of the bedside lamplight, Juan realized for the first time the size of his lover’s hands as his long slender fingers reached for his back to dig firmly into the soft flesh. Juan smiled as he submitted to Alejandro. Not a word was spoken.

Chapter 4

CARLOS was the first to be up and around. He couldn’t wait to get the coffeepot going. He took the coffee grinder to the bathroom and covered it with a thick towel, not wanting to wake Juan and Alejandro. The sound of the coffee grinder hadn’t awakened them. Juan took a deep breath. The smell of freshly