She meant did I know he was a senior with a bad reputation? Did I know what I was getting myself into?
“Yes.”
I could tell she was disappointed by my answer, though she tried not to show it. Mai stared at the fire. “Are you going to tell Mom and Dad you’re gay?”
I swallowed tightly and stared at her. “No. Obviously.”
“You think you can hide something like that?”
Mai was so much cooler when she wasn’t making demands. Even nested in her questions were subtle judgments. “I have so far,” I said at last.
She squinted like she’d bit into something sour. “They might accept it.”
I shook my head and almost smiled at that. She was an absolute shining star in our parents’ eyes. She didn’t know the privilege of being their favorite. There was literally nothing she could do where she wouldn’t be forgiven. And she was a girl. The expectations were different.
“I don’t think so,” I said at last. “And my relationship with Dad isn’t as solid as yours.”
“He loves you, Hiroku,” she said adamantly. She hadn’t even tried to argue my point.
I tilted my head and made a face.
“He does,” she insisted.
We were both quiet. The wood hissed and spit as the fire licked it.
“I think Dad has a hard time communicating with you because you aren’t always forthright with him,” she said carefully.
I chuckled at that. “Are you calling me a liar, Mai?”
“No.” She shook her head severely. “I’m saying…” She paused and scrunched up her nose as if gathering her thoughts. “I’m saying you’re like a folded fan. This is what you show them.” She pressed her palms flat together so that the edges of her hands created a seam. Then she opened her hands to display all ten fingers, like a shadow-puppet butterfly, “but this is who you are, Hiroku.”
“Honne and tatemae,” I said, the Japanese expression for what she was describing.
“You may feel like you need to be tatemae for Dad, but you can be honne with me. Tell me what you’re feeling, Hiroku.” She settled into a cross-legged position that was almost meditative. I poked at the fire, marveling at the way it devoured everything, turning once living things into nothing but smoke and ash.
So, I told her. How it began, how it escalated, how Seth made me feel things I’d never felt before, how he accepted and encouraged my art, how we’d built Petty Crime from nothing and roped Sabrina into it along the way. I told her some of the downsides as well—his controlling tendencies, his subtle manipulations. But I could always tie it back to his shitty childhood, how he’d had no control over his surroundings growing up, and his fear of abandonment. I was practically an expert on the psychology of Seth Barrett, so why couldn’t I figure out for myself why I couldn’t leave him?
I told her everything. Well, almost everything. I left out details about our sex life. She was my best friend, but she was still my sister.
“And now?” she asked. I’d only spoken about my past feelings for Seth, not my current ones.
“I’m mad at him. I feel used and betrayed. He made me look so stupid, and he says it’s just sex with other people, but the same rules don’t apply to me. If all he wanted from me was sex, then maybe I could handle it, but he wantseverything. He just doesn’t want to give the same in return.” I kicked at the ground. It wasn’t fair. That was what needled me the most. Seth wasn’t being goddamned fair to me.
“But you still have feelings for him,” she said softly.
“Yes. And I want to be with him all the time. I feel so weak. I wish I could be strong enough to be alone, but I miss him so goddamned much. And…I love him.”
She sighed. I added wood to the fire, feeding its unrelenting appetite. When my emotions had settled down a bit, I looked at her again.
“So, what’s your advice, wise old sensei?”
Mai shook her head sadly. “I don’t know, Hiroku. I think it’s going to take some time for you to heal. Seth really did a number on you. You need to focus on yourself right now. Make some new friends. Do the thingsyouwant to do. Pick up a hobby.”
I scoffed at that. “Knitting perhaps?”
“No, something social. You need to get out more in the daylight hours and meet people who are more like you. You’re so special…so kind and intelligent. You deserve someone who will treat you with the same respect and honor you give to them.”
I sighed, conflicted about it. In my eyes, Seth was perfect, except for that one thing. One really big thing. I wished I didn’t care, but the thought of someone else putting their hands on him, making him utter those noises and cry out their name, sharing in that communion as we had—it made me feel out of control, made my skin burn with a jealous rage. If Seth could get more or less the same experience from any number of people, then what was so special about what we had? What was so special about me?
