He’d also showered and was dressed in normal day clothes instead of sweats and a stained and grubby T-shirt. I didn’t want to ask him how long it would take for him to recover and come back to school, but I did worry about him failing automatically because of all of his unexcused absences. I figured that was a conversation between him and his guidance counselor or his mom, and I didn’t want to put any extra pressure on him.
We mostly hung out in his room. Seth asked me all kinds of questions about my parents and my sister and what Japan was like. We’d gone there for two months that past summer to visit my mother’s family. My mother was from Kanazawa where my grandmother still lived, but my aunt and uncle lived in Tokyo, which was much more exciting. We toured the entire country while we were there, and it was the first time we’d visited when Mai and I could get around independent of our parents, which made it a lot more fun. Seth was amazed I could speak fluent Japanese and wanted to hear me say all kinds of random things, including swears and insults, of which I knew a fair amount thanks to my cousins. Seth told me about the obsession he’d had a couple years back with Visual Kei, which is like this Japanese glam rock where the performers dress somewhat androgynous with a lot of makeup and crazy costumes and hairdos. Seth asked if I’d ever been to a show in Japan and when I told him no, he said we should go together one day.
Then we started kissing. It wasn’t like the hot and heavy making out we’d done previously. These kisses were more exploratory in nature and tender. It was like we were starting over because this vulnerable version of Seth was one I’d never seen before. He seemed more honest to me without the theatrical or performance element to his personality. I liked that about him too—the excitement and the drama—but really I just liked being around him, talking to him, hearing what he had to say about the world and his art, who he was and who he wanted to be. I loved it too when he sang. He had a real talent.
I also liked the way he touched me—too much, perhaps.
At one point we were wrapped up in each other’s arms, chest to chest, his face nuzzled against my neck when he paused kissing me to say, “I like this.”
“I like this too.”
He sighed into my neck and said quietly, “You touch something in me I thought was dead.”
It was really sweet of him to say it, but also really sad, like he’d already given up on himself. “Maybe it was only sleeping,” I told him.
He glanced up at me and smiled, but even that was a little gloomy. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he continued.
“You won’t,” I said automatically. He seemed so fatalistic, and yet, I’d worried the same thing too.
“I’ve never been someone’s boyfriend before,” Seth said, running his fingertip down the slope of my nose, “but I want to try with you.”
“Just because I brought you soup?”
The rumble of his laugh made me laugh too.
“It’s not just the soup.” He stroked my hair and tucked a lock of it carefully behind my ear. Every gesture of his was done with so much attention and gratitude. “It’s because I think you’re really special, and every time I see you, I feel better about my life. You make me feel hopeful, Hiroku. There’s so much about you to like.” He stopped as if surprised by the words he’d just uttered. He blinked a couple of times and looked at me again. “So, will you be my boyfriend?”
I waited a beat, something I’d learned from him, how to build the suspense and savor the moment. I knew all of the reasons why this was a bad idea, included among them the possibility of getting my heart broken, but I couldn’t be rational about it. I was already too far gone.
“Fine, Seth, I’ll be your boyfriend.” I said it like it was a chore, but there was a huge smile on my face.
He grinned with self-satisfaction. Then he leaned in close to whisper in my ear. “I’m going to make you feel things you’ve never felt before.”
A tremor of excitement raced through me, and I melted a little there in his arms. “You already have.”
NOW
When you enter into rehab, there are a lot of things you have to leave behind: your friends, your pets, your family, your sleeping pillow that smells like home, your favorite meals and snacks, your hobbies and most of your clothes, your regular routine, your privacy… In my case, I also had to leave behind my piercings, my music, my camera, the drugs…
And Seth.
There’s nothing in New Vistas to remind you of who you used to be, which is probably intentional, but it’s also a little disorienting. Coming off opioids is like waking up the morning after your own personal apocalypse. Your mind and body have been nuked by withdrawal, and what’s left is a complete wasteland. We’re all shuffling around, dead-eyed from antidepressants and anti-anxiety meds, living by our eating schedules, vomiting up all of our trauma in group, crying in our one-on-ones, trying to figure out who we are now without the drugs or the hunt of finding our next fix. Set adrift and clinging to the feeble hope that our lives still have meaning while dealing with the shame of what we’ve done, who we’ve hurt, and what we’ve become.
It takes tremendous effort just to raise yourself up off the plastic mattress every morning and face the long, shitty day ahead. To choose sobriety.
Wouldn’t you rather get high?
THEN
I started catching rides to school with Seth and Mitchell soon after Seth and I made our relationship status official. I told Seth I was fine with riding my bike, but he insisted. It helped that my house was on their way to school. Seth wanted me to hang out with them at lunch too, but I didn’t want to ditch Sabrina. And, as seniors, they could go off campus. I didn’t want the stress of always looking over my shoulder for the resource officer or do as Seth suggested, which was hide in the trunk. Most days I started out with Sabrina and the band kids, then hooked up with Seth and his friends during the last ten minutes of lunch. Sometimes I got a side of fries or a bag of chips for my effort.
“Hiroku, what the hell are you carrying in this backpack?” Seth said to me one morning as we were getting out of Mitchell’s car. He was trying it on, and he looked extremely awkward, like he’d never worn a backpack before in his life.
“Books?” I said a little snottily. For the couple of months I’d known him, I’d never seen Seth carry a textbook even once.
“Isn’t that what lockers are for?” He’d taken my backpack off his shoulders and was trying to lift it by one of the straps like a free weight. He appeared to be struggling.
“My locker’s on the third floor with all the other freshmen,” I grumbled. How quickly the seniors forgot. “I don’t even have a class on the third floor.”
