That must make me at least partially responsible.
NOW
I share some of what I’ve written in my journal with Dr. Denovo—my idea—and he gives me some articles on emotional manipulators. The signs all line up with what Seth was doing. One of the articles says the emotional manipulator is skilled at what they do and intentional about it, but I still can’t bring myself to believe Seth’s manipulations were altogether deliberate.
There was a pattern to Seth’s behavior. I’d put distance between us, and he’d feel threatened and then do whatever he could to bring me back under his control. Of course, it was manipulation, but I don’t think it was for any other purpose than to have me all to himself. I don’t think he necessarily wanted to hurt me or make me hate myself, only that his desires were more important to him than my own.
Perhaps that’s just me making excuses for him again.
Of all the ways in which Seth abused me, the emotional stuff is the hardest for me to grasp because it was so insidious, and it’s something I feel like I contributed to. I put barriers between us, and I let Seth believe I was engaging in other relationships—at least I did nothing to assure him I wasn’t. I punished him with my absence when he pushed me too far.
Dr. Denovo tells me that’s not manipulation or playing games; it’s setting boundaries. He says Seth should have accepted my limits and that by testing my defenses, he was seeking power and control, which is a classic abuser strategy.
Perhaps I should just write Seth off as an asshole and our relationship as an utter disaster, but I’m afraid that if I don’t deconstruct it down to its individual components, I won’t be able to resist him in the future. I don’t want to fall into that same pattern of behavior because it’s not the drugs I fear most outside the walls of New Vistas.
It’s the temptation of Seth.
THEN
In the past, Seth had always tried to hide his drug addiction from me, but one of my conditions in the After was that he become more honest about it so that he wasn’t always sneaking off to go get high as if I was too stupid to figure out what was going on.
I learned what a large portion of his life the drugs had become; not just the getting high part of it, but meeting with his dealers, preparing his dosage, planning his day around his fix, making sure he had enough money to get more and didn’t run out in the meantime. It seemed exhausting to manage.
Seth had three regular dealers, each of whom offered a slightly different product. I called them Larry, Curly and Moe, but their actual names were James, Davonte, and Kyle. The first two were older and kind of sleazy, but Kyle was our age and a senior at Hilliard, and having my distinctly separate lives overlap in that way made me uncomfortable. At school, I was straight-edge Hiroku. I didn’t have friends in my classes; I had colleagues—people to collaborate with on art projects or give me feedback on my videos. I didn’t mind if my peers thought I was a try-hard, because it fit well with the persona I wanted my parents to believe.
But with Seth, I was rock ‘n’ roll Barbie with my black leather pants and duded-up hair, eyeliner when I was feeling myself. Hanging out with the band or going to shows or serving as Seth’s living, breathing accessory. And whenever Kyle showed up at Seth’s apartment, it always threw me. It must have puzzled Kyle as well because he was always slyly asking me what was up with Seth and me because as far as he knew, I didn’t do drugs or smoke pot or even drink alcohol, so what could we possibly have in common?
Seth could get high alone, but he preferred to get high with others, which meant there was often a small contingent of “friends” who hung around his apartment and did drugs with him on the evenings we stayed in. At first, I avoided coming around when I knew they’d be there. Or I’d hole up in Seth’s bedroom and do my homework until they were gone, but sometimes I’d be into editing a video on my laptop, and I didn’t feel like relocating, so I’d just hang out with my headphones on and work while Seth and his friends did their thing.
On one particular night in late September, six weeks after Seth and I had started seeing each other again, I was sitting in my recliner in the corner of the living room working on a video, Seth was on the sectional couch, and his disciples were scattered all around him on beanbag chairs and cushions. In the center was a round, glass coffee table where they’d all just snorted some lines of crushed painkillers. Kyle was over, partaking as well as delivering product, and one of the girls who I hadn’t been introduced to yet asked Seth who I was.
“That’s Priscilla,” Seth said, gazing at me softly from across the room. Doe-eyed and tender in his tone, I didn’t like to admit it, but the drugs definitely had a mellowing effect on him.
The girl didn’t get the Elvis reference and said that was a strange name for a boy, then asked aloud, “Isn’t he a boy?” I rolled my eyes behind my laptop screen at Seth’s comparison and acted like I hadn’t heard them.
“That’s not Priscilla. That’s Hiroku Hayashi,” Kyle offered up as an explanation. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Seth glare at Kyle like he wasn’t even allowed to utter my name.
“How do you know that?” Seth asked possessively.
“He goes to Hilliard,” Kyle said like it was obvious.
“Oh, right.” Seth visibly relaxed.
The girl stumbled over my name in trying to repeat it. Someone else chimed in to correct her, and it turned into this weird kind of canon they were all chanting. Then Seth started talking about how we met and fell in love. “He brought me soup one day when I was sick,” Seth said, “and that’s when I knew.”
They all listened and nodded as if I weren’t in the same room with them. Seth too seemed to forget I was there because he then told them about how he cheated on me, and I broke up with him, and now I was punishing him by giving himjust a little bit.He pinched his thumb and forefinger together to make his point about how stingy I was being. It was truly a bizarre moment for me, but at the same time, I was getting a peek into Seth’s psyche. I was curious to see what he’d say next.
He leaned in closer to whisper to them, “And now, he’s fucking Fabio.”
Fabio was Seth’s name for Jeovanni, who I still wasn’t fucking, despite Seth’s mounting suspicion. I closed my laptop and slid my headphones around my neck.
“Seth,” I called in a reproachful voice.
Seth’s head swiveled in my direction, and he looked surprised to see me. “Oh, you heard that?”
Someone giggled. I tried to have patience with them because they were all slowly slipping away from reality. I went over and sat on the couch next to Seth. He placed his hand on my thigh. “This is where I like him. Right here by me.” Seth ran his fingers through the hair on the top of my head as if fixing it for a photograph. “Isn’t he pretty?”
The girl nodded with a dreamy smile on her face. “So pretty.”
