“I’ve never seen my pictures blown up this big before.” I tried not to notice how their technical imperfections were magnified as well.
“I tell everyone they’re yours, in case you’re worried about getting credit,” Seth said.
I looked at him, trying to understand why he’d felt the need to say that. “I’m not.”
In one of the photos, Mitchell and Jeannie were on the couch. His head was in her lap, and she was gazing down at him lovingly. I hoped Seth asked permission before he’d made their intimate moment life-sized. Then I found a picture of me, one I hadn’t taken. I was sitting in Seth’s lap, both of us crammed into a lawn chair and surrounded by the smoke from someone’s joint or bong rip. I was laughing, and Seth was too, though you could only see part of his face. He’d been tickling me in order to get me to smile.
“I took that one,” Seth said.
“I like it,” I told him, and I did, but it weirded me out too because I wasn’t that open, trusting person anymore, and we were no longer that carefree couple. We weren’t even a couple in my mind, just friends who fucked.
“I’m getting into videos now,” I told Seth. I’d gotten into a class that was usually reserved for upperclassmen, which gave me access to all the school’s cameras and editing equipment.
Seth’s eyes lit up. “Really? That’s great. We need a music video.”
I smiled and shook my head.
“What?” he asked.
“You can afford to have a professional do your video.”
“But I want you to do it,” he said as if it were ludicrous to suggest anyone else.
“You have too much confidence in my abilities.”
He grabbed both my shoulders and turned me around so that I’d look at him. “You’re insanely talented, Hiroku. Everyone thinks so. Not just me.”
His praise was still dangerous, so I changed the subject to what they were working on, and Seth caught me up on their set list, then played me some of their new songs so that I could weigh in on which ones I thought should be included in their album. Seth often recorded Petty Crime’s rehearsal sessions and went over them later in order to give feedback to his bandmates. You’d think he was being overbearing, but many of his criticisms had to do with his own performance, and he was vocal about that too. He took his responsibilities as a front man very seriously.
The band came by later that afternoon, and I watched them jam while sipping on a Capri Sun, which Seth had stocked up on just for me. During a break, Sabrina pulled me aside and asked if Seth and I were back together.
“Nope.” Not in the traditional sense, anyway.
“Seems like you are.”
There was no way for me to explain our current situation, and besides, I knew she wouldn’t approve. I hoped she’d take my silence as a hint, but Sabrina always barreled right on through.
“What are you doing, Hiro?”
The judgment in her voice grated on me, and the bitterness I’d felt earlier that summer when she’d lured me into a bad situation bubbled up to the surface. I pointed to the picture of Jeannie and Mitchell looming above us. “How’s Jeannie?”
She shrunk back from me. I reminded myself she was only looking out for me. Not only that, but our situations were completely different. “I’m sorry,” I told her. “But you should probably stay out of it.”
“Fine,” she said with more than a little attitude. “Just know that he isn’t going to change.”
I hadn’t expected Seth to change, only the dynamics of our relationship, but it would be impossible to explain to Sabrina why Seth messing around with other people was now okay with me, and I feared the conversation would only cause me more confusion.
And even though Seth and I were re-engaging, I didn’t want to go back to my old ways of sneaking around and lying to my parents, so I invited my mom to come with me to one of the band’s jam sessions, so she could meet my friends and see for herself where I was spending all of my time. I gave the band warning, so they could get rid of anything incriminating—joints, bongs, beer, etc.
My mom marveled at everything, similar to how Mai had behaved when I took her to Petty Crime’s show. Mom asked about the purpose of the washer and dryer and the circular saw, and Seth told her he was a carpenter as well as a musician and needed a place to do his laundry, both of which were true. Mom admired my photographs, and I gave her one of their old Petty Crime T-shirts I’d designed, which she said was very artistic. That was the word she always used to describe my endeavors. I think it was the safest way she knew to praise me.
The band played what Sabrina termed their “grandmother songs,” and Seth kept his pelvic thrusting to a minimum.
Afterward, on the ride home, my mom asked some pointed questions about Seth. I sensed she was trying to figure out if we were romantically involved. Only there were words she couldn’t say because of my father’s denial of my sexuality.
“Do you like this boy?” she finally asked, which was a bold question for her. I struggled to find an answer because nothing could properly capture the way I felt toward Seth, and I wasn’t about to admit we had history.
“What do you think of him?” I asked instead. My mom was a pretty good judge of character, and she usually acted in my own best interest.
