The Bravest Thing

by Laura Lascarso

  I don’t want to see Trent’s face or relive it. To press charges would mean having to experience that pain and humiliation over and over again with no guarantees he’d even be punished for it.

  And what if Trent tries to put it on Berlin?

  I tell her I’m tired and I need to go to bed. It takes forever to fall asleep because the drugs are wearing off and the pain in my chest is back, and I can’t stop thinking about Berlin’s face when I told him it was over. Ending it with him was my only option, but I don’t feel good about it.

  I gave in to my addiction. I went running back to Seth.

  My mother wakes me up around eleven in the morning with tea and breakfast in bed. She wants to see my chest. I lie and tell her it isn’t that bad, that Berlin overreacted. My dad seems to know what I’m shielding her from and tries to calm her down. It’s one of those rare moments when he and I are on the same side. My dad tells her to respect my privacy, and at last she lets it go.

  Later, when my mom’s gone out food shopping, my dad comes up to my room. I’m backing up my footage in preparation for my departure. I want to make sure I can access my work from wherever I end up. There’s no telling what my dad will do with my setup once I’m gone.

  “I thought this move would be good for you,” he says stiffly, but I know how to read between the lines with my dad. This is his way of apologizing. Maybe he feels guilty, like if they had stayed in Austin and just sent me to a different school, it would have been enough. But I know it wouldn’t. The temptation is too great.

  “You did what you thought was best,” I say, which is my way of accepting his apology. “I’m not going back to that school.”

  “You need to finish out the semester. Then you’ll have enough credits to dual enroll.”

  “I’m not going back,” I say again. Even though this fight is pointless, I’m not backing down. My dad has been trying to run my and Mai’s lives since birth. She obeys. I rebel. But on this matter, there’s no negotiating.

  “You don’t want to ruin your transcripts, Hiroku.”

  “Fuck my transcripts, Dad.” I’m in survival mode, and I need another hit soon or the withdrawal will start kicking in. My transcripts are the least of my concerns. I expect Dad to get on me for my language, but he just presses his lips tightly together and takes a deep breath through his nose. I think Mom made him go to some kind of anger management counseling after our blowup last spring.

  “We don’t have to decide anything right now,” he says, still not relenting. It seems he doesn’t grasp the depth of my hatred for that school, and vice versa. Maybe he needs to see my chest in order to better understand what I’m dealing with.

  I’m not going to show him, though. I don’t want anyone to see it, ever.

  “I’ve already decided, Dad. I’ll fucking kill myself before I go back.”

  “Don’t say things like that, Hiroku. What would your mother say?”

  “I wouldn’t say it to her, but I’m telling you.”

  He takes a few deep breaths, exhaling through his nose, and I wait.

  “Very well. We’ll figure out another situation. But Monday morning, your mother’s taking you to the doctor.”

  “Can you do it? I don’t want her there.”

  “Fine. I’ll leave work early. We’ll go in the afternoon.”

  Seth better not be late.

  My dad comes over then and lays a hand on my shoulder. I almost flinch. I can’t remember the last time my dad touched me. “I love you, son,” he says.

  He squeezes my shoulder, and my eyes kind of sting for a second. It sucks that I have to endure something like this for him to say it. Still, it’s nice to hear. “You too, Dad.”

  If I don’t argue with him again before I leave, then this will be our last conversation.

  I can live with that.

  MY PARENTS aren’t going to force me to go back to school. I can stay with them and dual enroll in the spring, carve out some half-realized existence for myself in Lowry. But Seth has an ace in the hole. When I left him Friday night, he sent me off with one more dose for Saturday, just enough so that by Sunday afternoon, I’m feeling restless and moody. By nighttime I’m climbing the walls, needing more. I barely sleep that night. By Monday morning I’m getting chills and body aches, sniffles and a runny nose. I tell my mom it’s just a cold and convince her to go to work. I have a doctor’s appointment that afternoon anyway.

  I keep looking at the clock. Seth is late.

  He finally arrives around noon, comes inside just long enough to get me high and comment on how ugly our new house is. His eyes rove over my bedroom, perhaps looking for some remnant of my relationship with Berlin, but there is nothing except my black cowboy hat, which I’ve strung to one of my duffel bags. If Seth asks about it, I’ll tell him I bought it myself.

  Seth nods to my phone. “Better leave that here.” My parents will be able to track me with it, but it’s also my lifeline. If I leave it behind, it’s one more way I’ll be dependent on Seth. I scroll through my contacts until I find Spencer.

  Check in on Berlin Webber for me, I text him. If Berlin and Trent don’t make up, Berlin’s going to need a friend, and Spencer has a direct line to Lowry’s gay community. Then I find Berlin’s number and memorize it. I’ll check in on him in a couple of days.

  “We’ll get you another one,” Seth says, perhaps noticing my reluctance to let it go.

  I clear out my phone and leave it there on my desk, next to the note for my parents. Seth helps me load my video gear into the back of his van. He wants me to leave my bike, but there’s no way in hell I’m going without it. I need an exit plan this time. Standing in the doorway to the house, I have second thoughts. It’s easy to do now that the drugs are coursing through my veins. They offer me the luxury of choice, but only until they leave my bloodstream. I’m tossing the dice with my addiction, but I’ll be creating the kind of art I want again, and there will be moments of sheer fucking bliss. Isn’t that enough?

  Besides, I don’t want to try so fucking hard anymore. To stay off drugs, to keep away from Seth, to blend in to whatever the local norm is. Berlin was doing well enough before I arrived in Lowry, and after the dust settles, he’ll be better off without me.

  I’m the stick of dynamite that blew Berlin’s world apart.

  Berlin

  HIRO DOESN’T come to school that whole week, and he never answers his phone. I know his parents are strict, but it seems unfair they would ground him. Maybe they’re letting him take online school, or they’ve left town completely. I head over to his house on Friday afternoon to see what’s up.

  Mrs. H. answers the door. She must have stayed home from work today. Her eyes are red, and she looks like she hasn’t slept much that week. When she sees me, she just shakes her head sadly, and I know something god-awful has happened.

  “Oh, Berlin,” she keeps saying over and over.

  “Where’s Hiro?” I ask, trying to see if I might catch a glimpse of him somewhere inside the house.

  “He’s gone, Berlin. He left with that terrible boy.”

  Seth.

  “Where did they go?”

  She shakes her head. “We don’t know. The police say he’s too old now for them to go looking. He hasn’t called or e-mailed. He left his phone behind. Five days. Nothing.”

  “He ran away?” I still can’t believe it. Hiro’s been gone all this time? With Seth? There’s no telling what Seth might have done to him by now. He could be lying dead in a ditch somewhere. I don’t say that, though, since Mrs. H. is probably already thinking it.

  “Did he take his bike?” She nods. She looks like she might start crying at any moment. “That’s good. That means he can come home.”

  She starts to sway on her feet, so I kind of hug her to me. She’s a tiny woman with bones like a bird. Her hair smells like Hiro’s, and I’m filled to the brim with regret. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Hayashi.” I shouldn’t have told his parents or pressured Hiro to go to the police. I
should have come by over the weekend to check on him. I should have done something.

  She leans back to look up at me. “This isn’t your fault, Berlin. You’ll tell me if he calls you, won’t you?”

  “Of course. Will you tell me?”

  She nods and wrings her hands together. “I’m so worried about him. That boy is dangerous.”

  After we say good-bye, I walk to my truck in a daze and sit there for a few minutes hunched over the steering wheel. Hiro didn’t even take his phone? Does that mean he isn’t coming back? He must know his mother is worried sick about him, and he still won’t call? What if he’s locked up somewhere or strung out on drugs and needs help?

  Unless he reaches out to me, I might never see him again.

  I DON’T want to go to church on Sunday, but my dad thinks it’ll be good for me to get out of the house. He’s not used to having me around all the time. Now that I don’t have practice or football games, we’ve been seeing a lot more of each other. I spend a lot of time outdoors doing chores. It keeps my hands busy and my mind off the guilt and shame over what I let happen to Hiro. I keep my phone close, though, just in case he decides to call. I miss him pretty bad.

  Walking down the church aisle on Sunday, I feel everyone’s eyes on me. Folks whisper; some point. It isn’t much different from walking down the hallway at school. And there’s Trent sitting at the edge of the aisle, whispering “faggot” to me in the house of the Lord as I walk past him. He tries to trip me, but years of football have trained me to watch out for shit like that. I kick his ankle for good measure. I don’t give a rat’s ass how he treats me, but I feel bad for my dad, since he has to suffer right alongside me, now that the whole town knows I’m gay.

  Pastor Craig’s sermon is about the importance of family, about honoring your parents and honoring yourself. I’m only half listening, because I can’t get comfortable with all the side-eyeing going on. Then Pastor Craig starts talking about what it’s like to be an adolescent, what a confusing time it can be, made even more so by the Internet and television and peer pressure. He talks about how we all make mistakes and even when we do, God still loves us and wants us to make the right choice the next time. Pastor Craig keeps looking at me, and I wonder if he knows about Trent’s assault on Hiro. Probably not, since no one at school is talking about it. I can’t believe Trent has managed to keep his mouth shut about it.

  At the end of every sermon, Pastor Craig stands outside the church and greets everyone as they leave. I want to go out the side door, but my dad likes to shake his hand and offer his gratitude. I suppose I’ll have to face Pastor Craig sooner or later. I trail behind my dad, hoping to get away before I have to talk to anyone from school. As soon as Pastor Craig shakes my dad’s hand, he looks at me. “Mind if I give Berlin a ride home? I’d like to talk a few minutes alone with him.”

  Noooo! I want to shout, make a few tackles, and sprint for the truck like it’s the end zone, but my feet are cemented to the pavement.

  “You can have him for a few minutes, Pastor,” Dad says. My heart sinks into my shoes.

  I stand a few feet away as Pastor Craig finishes shaking hands. Several of the men and women eye me up and down. I’m not sure what they’re expecting to find. Proof of my sexuality? If they didn’t see it before, they aren’t going to see it now. A few of the men glare at me with hostility. Trent’s dad looks like he’d like to spit on me.

  “I sure hope you can make a man outta him, Pastor Craig,” Coach Cross says loud enough for me to hear. “Lord knows, we could use a good running back.”

  I step forward. “I’m never playing for you again.” I’ll play for another high school, but I’ll never be under Coach Cross’s thumb again.

  Pastor Craig lays his hand on my shoulder like I’m the one who’s out of line.

  Trent comes forward and whispers so only I can hear, “Looks like we ran your faggy boyfriend out of town.”

  If we were alone I’d knock his ass out. It takes all I have in me to pretend I didn’t hear him. Trent’s dead to me. The whole football team is.

  After finishing with the congregation, Pastor Craig leads me inside the church to where he has a suite of offices, one for him, one for his secretary, and one for the programs director. I’ve spent a lot of time with Pastor Craig over the years. Whenever there was a chore in need of a strong back—moving furniture, building pews, that sort of thing—I always volunteered.

  “So, what’s new, Berlin?” he asks me once we’re settled in his office. The happy-go-lucky look on his face bothers me. It feels false and besides, I suspect he knows already. News travels fast in our town, and Kayla indicated as much. But does he know the full story?

  “What have you heard?” That might be the best place to start.

  “I hear there’s been some friction between you and the Cross men.”

  “Coach kicked me off the team. Or I quit. I’m not sure which came first.”

  “Why’s that?”

  I sit back and cross my arms, look him dead in the eye. “Trent and some of the other football players branded a friend of mine.”

  Pastor Craig raises his eyebrows. “They branded him?”

  I’m right, then. He didn’t know that part of it. Maybe Trent and Coach Cross are worried they might get into trouble after all. “They did it with my brand on my property to get back at me. My friend ran away from home because of it. His mother’s worried sick about him.”

  Pastor Craig says nothing. He looks a little ill, like the conversation isn’t going the way he planned. “I’m truly sorry about your friend, Berlin. Tell me his name and we’ll pray for him.”

  “Hiroku,” I say, though if it’s souls in need of redemption, we should probably be praying for Trent and Coach Cross.

  We bow our heads and Pastor Craig says a prayer. “Amen,” I whisper. Pastor Craig lifts his eyes to meet mine.

  “Did any of my sermon today speak to you?” he asks, which is disappointing. I suppose that’s all we’re going to say about Hiro and what he suffered at the hands of the intolerable bigots in Pastor Craig’s own flock. To me prayer isn’t supposed to be the end of a conversation, but the beginning.

  “I liked the part about honoring your parents and yourself,” I say, giving him the benefit of the doubt.

  “Do you feel like you’ve made any mistakes in the past few months?”

  I shift in my seat. I get the feeling he wants me to say being gay is a mistake, but I don’t like the way he’s going about it. And it doesn’t feel like a mistake to me. More like a revelation. I’m not ashamed of anything I’ve done with Hiro, except for lying about it and my cowardice.

  “I should have come out to Trent and my team sooner,” I say. “Instead, I let Hiro take the fall for it.”

  “I see.” Pastor Craig makes a steeple of his hands and presses his lips to his fingertips. “You know how our church views homosexuality, don’t you, Berlin?”

  “Yes, sir.” I watched a lot of porn last summer. Perhaps to make myself feel better about it, I also spent a lot of time researching the Bible’s take on homosexuality. Jesus didn’t say anything about it, despite what the church pamphlets claim.

  “Do you agree?” he asks.

  “I don’t think it’s a choice, if that’s what you mean. I didn’t choose to be attracted to boys.” And men, I add silently. “I’ve been this way as long as I can remember.”

  “You’ve always had sexual feelings toward other boys?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you think it may have been the influence of another man who made you feel this way?”

  Maybe he thinks I was molested or something. That’s one of the many theories floating out there as to why a person might be gay. A dysfunctional relationship with your father is another. They play into the whole unnatural thing. None of those scenarios apply to me. “No, sir.”

  “Do you think your mother’s death might have something to do with it?”

  “I’m not sure what that could be.”<
br />
  Pastor Craig sits back in his chair and studies me for a moment. I glance toward the door, hoping I can still catch my dad before he leaves.

  “Do you want to be healed, Berlin?”

  “Healed from homosexuality?”

  He nods gravely. He makes it sound like pneumonia. Maybe that’s how he views it. Not me. If anyone has an illness, it’s Trent and Coach Cross. The hatred in their hearts is a disease and it’s spreading.

  “With all due respect, sir, I don’t think I need healing. I know you believe prayer can turn a person straight, but I’ve prayed plenty already. I think as long as I’m a good person, neighborly and whatnot, God will forgive me.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.” Pastor Craig looks at me with concern. He’s worried about my immortal soul. I don’t think much about life after death, except when I think about my mother. My dad always taught me it was more important to treat people with kindness on this earth and leave the sorting to the man upstairs.

  “I’d like to talk with you more about this, Berlin. Could we start meeting regularly? Say, Tuesday afternoons?”

  I blow out a long breath. The thought of having these conversations with Pastor Craig on a regular basis makes my stomach turn. My being gay isn’t hurting anyone. There’s nothing in the Ten Commandments about it either. Live and let live, as Hiro once said.

  “I don’t think so, sir.”

  “You aren’t available then?”

  I stare at the smooth finish on his desk. I don’t want to be disrespectful, but I figure honesty is the best approach. I owe it to Hiro to own my sexuality, even if that means making other people uncomfortable. Even if that means people calling me names or treating me poorly. Now that I’m out, I’m not going to hide it. Hiro figured that out a long time ago—it’s better to be yourself than to pretend to be somebody else. Maybe if I’d tried that sooner, he’d still be here with me.