Hiroku

by Laura Lascarso

  NOW

  Some of these games they have us play in rehab are just ridiculous. Case in point, the Wheel of Self-Care, like Wheel of Fortune only instead of guessing the puzzle, you have to list out all the ways in which you’ll take care of yourself once you’re no longer locked up like a zoo animal in New Vistas.

  Elizabeth says she’ll learn to cook. Gabe says he’ll tell his mother he loves her. Ryan is going to start lifting weights. My category is spiritual, so I tell them I’m going to watch more sunsets. I say it like it’s a joke, and it’s only after that I realize that’s an entirely legitimate goal.

  Watch more sunsets. Why the fuck not?

  THEN

  I could no longer confide in Sabrina now that her loyalties were split, and besides, my sister had really stepped up in the best friend department.

  “He’s too powerful,” I admitted to Mai after telling her about sneaking out to go have sex with Seth. It happened twice more after the first time. “I can’t resist him.”

  Mai looked at me for a long time with her wise old turtle eyes—centuries passed as she considered me and my predicament—until at last she said, “School’s out soon. I’m going to help you get over him. We’re going on a road trip.”

  I sighed, wishing I could get more excited by the idea. Or about anything. All I wanted was to be with Seth. I was a fucking doormat.

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “Well, don’t sound so fucking excited about it,” she snarked.

  My mouth dropped open.

  “What?” she asked with a little smile.

  “I can’t believe you just said the f-word?”

  “You’re rubbing off on me, apparently.”

  We spent the afternoon looking at maps, an exercise that I pointed out was futile to begin with because our dad would never let us go, but Mai only grinned mischievously and insisted on hearing my opinion about a destination. After surprisingly little debate, we decided on the Grand Canyon. I told her I wanted to see if it was worth all the fuss. I also wanted to see what the biggest, deepest gash in the country looked like.

  Mai then attempted to convince our parents, specifically our father, that a sibling road trip was in order. Mai pulled all the cards on this one—how trustworthy she was, how much she deserved this vacation, how well we’d navigated Japan last summer on our own, how this might be our last opportunity to bond as siblings before she left for Columbia. That last one really got to me. Something I tried not to think about at all, her leaving.

  Dad listed all the reasons why it was a bad idea, the most outrageous being that someone might kidnap us and hold us for ransom. “No one wants us,” I said, then glanced over at Mai. “Well, not me at least.” My mom frowned at that but didn’t say anything. She usually let my dad handle the negotiations. Dad and Mai went back to their debate. It had been a while since I saw the master at work, and Mai had been sharpening her sword. After about two hours of discussion, my mother finally weighed in. She placed a gentle hand on my father’s arm and said, “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

  Mai tried and failed to contain her smile. We both knew what that meant. My mom didn’t say much, but when she did, my dad listened. We got a list of demands from my father: our phones and our car had to be linked to my dad’s phone so he could track us; we had to stay in respectable hotels when we weren’t camping; we had to be aware of our surroundings at all times (I suggested we carry katanas just to be safe, which my dad didn’t find funny at all); we had to check in daily and give him phone numbers to wherever we were staying; we could not talk to strangers…

  I stopped listening, knowing Mai would use her monster brain to capture all of our dad’s stipulations. The point was, we were going on a road trip, just the two of us, and I began to feel something again other than loneliness and pain. A stirring of excitement.

  Hope.

  Mai gave the valedictorian speech from atop a constructed stage on the Hilliard football field. It was thoughtful and inspiring and flawless. I had a vision then of my sister ten years down the road, giving an academic lecture on curing cancer or some other breakthrough she’d made or helped to make. Sometimes the light shines a little brighter around certain people. That was Mai. Maybe it was my current state of mind where my emotions were always running just beneath the surface, but I cried along with my mother when Mai received her diploma. She found us in the crowd and waved. My dad nodded, a closed-mouth smile on his face.

  I hoped one day he’d look at me that way.

  Sabrina was in attendance at Mai’s graduation and performing as part of the marching band. We’d made up, more or less. She admitted Seth had threatened to kick her out of the band if she said anything to me, and she agreed that it was a really shitty way for me to find out, though she maintained that I needed to see it for myself. I told her I appreciated her cluing me in to what was going on. Part of me wanted to ask her how long she’d known about it, but a bigger part didn’t want to know just how long Seth had been cheating on me. I told her we were cool, and I wanted us to be, but forgiving people had never been a strength of mine.

  We celebrated Mai’s big day by taking her and her boyfriend out to a nice dinner at her favorite steakhouse. Terrance had been waitlisted for Columbia, and we were all holding out hope that he’d get in. Well, I wasn’t really, because I thought Mai could do better—no one was good enough for my sister—but I was at least pretty confident that Terrance wasn’t cheating on her, so bonus points to him for that.

  Over the weekend leading up to our trip, Mai and I begged, borrowed, and used our parent’s credit card sparingly to put together a set of ramshackle camping equipment. Mai wasn’t allowed to spend any of her graduation money on our escapade, and I didn’t have any source of income other than my allowance, which was a joke.

  My contribution was to compile snacks and canned goods from our cabinets. My mom was a bulk buyer, so I was able to secure most of the food we’d need for the trip. I also made a playlist of Neil Young songs for the car ride. Seth hated Neil Young, and Mitchell loved him, so it felt fitting. Included on the playlist was the song “Albuquerque,” which was going to be our first stopping point. Neil really understood the expanse of the North American West.

  The first day of our trip we coasted on the rush of being away from our parents like real adults. I asked Mai about Columbia and what classes she wanted to take and what her life goals were. I wanted to catch up, and I also knew that keeping her talking meant that I wouldn’t have to.

  We drove all day long and checked in at a Best Western off Interstate 40. We wanted to spend as much time as possible in the Grand Canyon National Park. After a dinner of enchiladas for Mai and huevos rancheros for me, we were laid out on our respective beds moaning in discomfort because we’d both overeaten when Mai said to me, “I let you get a pass today, but don’t think you’re going to get through a whole week with me without talking about yourself.”

  I rolled onto my side and gave her the stink eye. “Who says I was looking for a pass?”

  “Because you’re so interested in the mysteries of biochemistry, right?” she said smartly.

  I smiled. It was refreshing to get caught at my own games. “I can’t believe you had so much to say. I was having trouble staying awake. I actually timed you.”

  She threw her lumpy, musty hotel pillow at my gut. “You did not.”

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket, ignoring the texts from Seth asking me where I was and when he’d see me again. I pulled up my stopwatch and showed it to her.

  “Hiroku Hayashi, how could you?”

  I laughed harder than I had in a long time. “Twenty-seven minutes, Mai. That’s got to be a record.”

  She giggled and shook her head. “Yeah, well, it’s your turn tomorrow. We’ve got nothing but time.”

  I felt a roiling sensation in my gut; it wasn’t the food’s fault.

  After that, we watched an old black-and-white John Wayne movie that was playing on cable television—Mai love
d westerns. And cowboys. And horses. I liked violence and tough-talking men. She’d been driving for almost twelve hours, so she passed out pretty early. When I knew she was asleep, I walked outside to the breezeway of our hotel room and called Seth. Not that I owed him anything, but I didn’t want him to worry about me or freak out because I wasn’t texting him back.

  “Where are you?” he asked almost immediately.

  “I’m taking a road trip with Mai.”

  Silence for a beat and then, “Where to?”

  “The Grand Canyon.”

  “How Americana,” he said with a touch of sarcasm. “When will you be back?”

  I dug my toe into a crack in the concrete. “I don’t know. A week or so.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

  Because we’re not together.

  “I guess it just didn’t come up.” The only thing that had come up lately between us was our dicks right before we went at it, and then I slunk away, feeling part used, part user.

  “Are you ever going to get over this?” Seth asked somewhat impatiently.

  That’s what I’m trying to do on this trip. Get over you. I didn’t tell him that though. I didn’t go out of my way to hurt his feelings, but I didn’t want to lie to him either.

  “I don’t know if I can, Seth.”

  Another pause. A grumbling sigh. “So, what then? You’re just going to come over when you want to fuck? Then skip town without even telling me where you’re going? Not answer my texts? Leave me sitting here with my dick in my hand.”

  I was sure he could find someone to occupy his dick if he really wanted. I thought it, but I didn’t say it, because I didn’t want to encourage him in his escapades.

  “Mai’s leaving for Columbia at the end of summer,” I told him. “She suggested this road trip as a way for us to hang before she leaves.”

  “She wanted to get you away from me.” That possessive edge to his voice, razor sharp.

  “Maybe.” I pressed my thumb and forefinger to my closed eyelids, hoping the discomfort on my eyeballs would prevent anything from leaking out.

  The silence between us stretched on. I listened to his breathing like I used to do some nights when neither of us wanted to hang up, but we had nothing left to say. Even now, we’d both rather endure the silence than disconnect.

  “Have fun at the Grand Canyon,” Seth said at last. He sounded tired. Probably tired of playing games, though that wasn’t my intention. I wasn’t trying to jerk him around. We both wanted things the other couldn’t give. “Send me a postcard. Or maybe answer my texts once in a while so I know you’re okay. I’ll be thinking about you. And missing you.” He paused, and I waited, wanting to hear those words from him. He didn’t disappoint me.

  “I love you, Hiroku.”

  My chest tightened and my eyeballs hurt from the pressure I was applying. I nodded. He’d given me my daily affirmation. “I love you, too.”

  We got a late start the next morning because we wanted to have a hot breakfast before hitting the road. Also, I wasn’t a crack-of-dawn type person unless I had to be up for school. On the drive, Mai’s stomach was upset, so we kept stopping so she could relieve herself. I took over driving for a while because she felt so ill. I had my driver’s license, so it wasn’t illegal, but I hadn’t had much practice, so it was all a little surreal to me at first. Luckily the highway was pretty desolate, and there wasn’t much in the way of road signs or signaling. Mai napped in the passenger seat. Neil crooned about his cinnamon girl. And I lost myself in the desert landscape and all of the miles I was putting between Seth and me.

  We arrived at the park just before sunset. Mai had had a sports drink and a granola bar and was feeling a little better. I parked at an overlook, and we got out to take a look at this supposedly Grand Canyon.

  It stole my breath away.

  “Wow,” Mai said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Wow,” she said again.

  “Yeah.”

  Pictures of the Grand Canyon actually don’t do it justice. I know that for a fact because I took a ton of them while we were there. It was one of those rare occasions when the hype didn’t come close to the actual experience. I struggled to find words to describe it without relying on the old tried and true clichés: “majestic” and “awe-inspiring.” But if I had to pick one, I would say in moments like that, gazing down upon that impossibly wide and impossibly deep rift in the earth was like seeing the hand of God. And I wasn’t even religious.

  We stood there for a while on the South Rim of the canyon and watched the setting sun paint the rock walls different shades of reds and oranges, then pinks. And when the shadows seeped in, the canyon went from violet to indigo to black. Even in the dark, you could feel the great expanse of nothingness. The biggest, blackest hole I’d ever experienced.

  “That was incredible,” Mai whispered. We were lying side by side on the flattened surface of a boulder. The first winking stars were coming out. I reached for her hand and squeezed. It was a moment.

  We were supposed to camp in the park for the next couple of days, but I convinced Mai that we should hike down to the Colorado River and see for ourselves, the source of this wonder. Mai was nervous about that—neither of us having been exposed to particularly outdoorsy activities in our youth—but after some discussion with the park rangers, we were able to convince Mai that it was safe enough. I offered to carry the tent and the food to make her pack less heavy. Neither of us had hiking boots, but our tennis shoes would do the job. We set off at noon, ducked into a cave to escape a rainstorm, and made it to our campsite halfway down the ravine around nightfall. Mai was pooped, so I set up the tent, and she opened our can of baked beans. We didn’t have a stove or the patience to make a fire, so we ate them right out of the can. Like real cowboys, I teased her. As we were nestling down into our sleeping bags, Mai asked me if I’d suggested this impromptu backpacking trip to get out of talking about Seth.

  “Of course not,” I lied.

  “Mmmm,” she said, unconvinced.

  The next morning we rose with the sun. It was impossible to sleep through the light shining into our tent. Our water was getting low, so I poured the rest of mine into Mai’s decanter and replenished my own bottle with a trickle of clear water winding its way down the sloping canyon floor. I told Mai I’d drink it first to see if it was bad. She told me that was the dumbest idea she’d ever heard, since it would take longer than a few hours for symptoms of giardia to show up. I told her I liked living on the edge.

  In our rush to begin the hike, we’d forgotten to pack sunscreen or Band-Aids, so by the afternoon, we were both sunburned and blistered. Our backs and shoulders were sore as well from our rag-tag backpacks, but even despite our aches and pains, we both realized what an awesome adventure this was.

  We made it to the Colorado River just as the sun was beginning to set. It was like the biggest flow of chocolate milk you’ve ever seen, moving so fast that it made a huge-ass log look like a paper straw being sucked downriver.

  “You know people actually kayak in this thing,” Mai said. “I read about it one of the brochures.”

  “That’s insane,” I said. I wanted to try it.

  She nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

  We made camp on a sandy patch of level ground. We’d passed one couple on the way down who was on their way out, but other than that, we hadn’t seen a single soul. We figured that was why they called it Hermit trail. Mai called our dad because we were finally able to get service. I started a fire. Mai didn’t tell Dad we’d gone off on a backpacking excursion, just that we were doing day hikes around the canyon.

  While she talked to our parents, I checked my own phone. I’d texted Seth a few pictures of the canyon, including one with my face in the frame. Seth texted me back a picture of Heineken beer cans stacked like a Christmas tree and him, Mitchell and Caleb wearing what appeared to be an elderly woman’s clothing, captioned with, feliz navidad. It was so random that I crac
ked up laughing. I glanced up to see Mai had finished talking to our mom and dad. Her shiny beetle black eyes stared at me, all-seeing and all-knowing.

  “How did you guys meet?” she asked, perhaps thinking that by starting at the beginning we might somehow wind our way to the end.

  I’d held out for four days now, not talking about the thing. Mai had been more than patient, and she’d followed me down into the depths of this great gaping maw on my spiritual journey. I’d tried and failed to figure this thing out on my own—my complicated bond with Seth and my compulsion to be with him all the time. I needed to talk to someone about it, and Mai was a good listener.

  “We met on the basketball courts,” I told her while busying myself with keeping the fire going by slowly adding larger pieces of wood, careful not to smother the flame.

  “Did you know who he was?”

  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.