Chuckling, he rolled over to face me. His fingers stretched out, pushing back my bangs and wiping the sweat from my brow. His hands, although calloused, were cool and soothing. Suddenly I felt as small and vulnerable as I had been in the dream. I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch.
“What is it?” I mumbled drowsily.
“I keep thinking about…about what you told me yesterday,” he said. “And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have freaked out on you. That was not cool.”
“It’s okay.”
“I just…I just wish it…” he trailed off, his eyes glossy. “Had I known what you were doing…what you were looking for…I don’t know. I feel like I could’ve done something.”
“What do you mean? How? You were with my brother.”
“I could’ve told you that you were worthy of being loved.”
My heart swelled. But then he corrected himself.
“M-maybe not by me, but you’re definitely worthy of being loved.”
“Gee, wow, thanks,” I mumbled, rolling away from him.
“Kuro, don’t be like that. We can’t just…you know.”
“You’ve broken up with my brother. There’s nothing standing in the way but your own feelings,” I said hoarsely, smushing my face into the pillow. Maybe if I pressed my face down hard enough, I could push my tears back into my body.
“I’ve just never thought of you in that way,” Phillip said. “I remember teaching you to tie your shoes and pushing you on the baby swing at the park. I’ve…I’ve never seen you as…”
Oh barf. I don’t know what makes me feel worse: the part where he says he doesn’t like me, or the part where he says that he’s always seen me as a baby.
“I was with Mizu for so long. I’m just not ready yet,” he sighed heavily. “I need to get closure on that part of my life.”
“Closure? You think that he’s going to give you closure? He’s just going to be aggressive and mean, as he always is.”
“I wasn’t saying that I’d seek closure from him directly; of course not. And also, he wasn’t always like that.”
“Look, I don’t think he’s ever been the person that you say he used to be,” I snapped, “and even if he was, that person is gone. If you want to spend the rest of your life chasing ghosts, Phillip, go ahead. I’m not going to hold you back.”
He scoffed, shaking his head. There was a pause. He rolled onto his side to face me.
“Did you let me move in because you thought I would fuck you?”
“What? Of course not. I just don’t get why you’re bringing this up only to shoot me down,” my voice rose, but gave out. I swallowed a lump of tears, sniffling. “I wish you had just let me flush the fucking pills down the toilet yesterday and left it at that.”
He didn’t respond.
* * * *
I spent the next morning avoiding him. By the time I woke up, Phillip was in his room, typing away on his computer. His earbuds were in and blasting punk rock music, so I knew he was far away from this reality. I finished the laundry, ordered new textbooks online, and went on a jog around the neighborhood. By the time I came back, Phillip was gone, and oddly enough, my brother Mizu was waiting by the apartment door.
We didn’t look much alike. I had a slightly darker complexion, whereas Mizu had smooth porcelain skin. My hair was jet black and kind of unkempt, but he bleached his hair a few months back. Today it was styled like a K-Pop star, swooping bangs and shaved down on the sides. Even on weekends, he always dressed business casual. Today he was wearing a black sport coat, sweater vest, and dark jeans. In one hand he held a stupidly tiny plant.
He smiled when he saw me. “Hey Kuro. Congrats on the new digs.”
“Phillip isn’t here.”
He rolled his eyes. “Actually, I came here for you.”
“What is that?”
“It’s a succulent. They’re like an adorable, low maintenance houseplant.”
“Okay,” I took it from him. “Thanks.”
I opened the door and he followed me inside the building. He whistled.
“Damn this is a dump.”
“Rent is cheap here,” I replied. “And we have our own separate bedrooms, too.”
“Oh, so it’s like that.” he examined his cuticles.
I couldn’t tell if he was insulting me, or relieved that I wasn’t sleeping with his ex. I smiled thinly, turning around to face him.
“It’s like what?” I challenged.
“Nothing. I just thought you…well…never mind. It’s nothing.”
“No, Mizu. Say it.”
“Kuro, I’m not sure why you’re—”
“You thought I was sleeping with him.”
Mizu shrugged his shoulders, kind of wiggling in place uncomfortably. “I don’t know what I thought, honestly. It’s hard to tell with you.”
“Hard to tell…?”
“What your feelings are about a person. You don’t exactly wear your heart on your sleeve,” he said, waving a hand around.”
“Why are you here?”
“I just came to see your new place,” he replied flatly. “How’s Phillip?”
“Shouldn’t you ask him that yourself?”
Mizu sighed, rolling his eyes. “Of course. You always have to be so combative.”
He started rummaging through the cabinets, grabbed a glass, and poured some water into it. He plopped down in the stool in front of the counter and chugged it down. I played with the little leaves on the succulent. It was kind of cute. In a stupid way.
“Phillip’s been fine. He’s been really excited about this,” I said quietly.
“He still doing freelance software shit?”
“Uh, yeah, I think so. He was working on some things earlier this morning.” I hoped that the questions about Phillip would end there.
“And you?”
“Still working at the bookstore, and some nights at Arby’s. And I’m taking classes.”
“What are you studying again?”
“Electrical engineering.”
“But I thought you wanted to write? Or work on video games or something?”
I nodded. “I do. But I also want to be able to, y’know, support myself financially. Can’t exactly do that making indie games.”
“Can you make any money off of making video games?”
“Some do. Some don’t. Anyways,” I coughed, “you should probably get going. I need to take a shower. Thanks for the plant.”
“Okay.” he stood, and walked over to the door. Then he turned on his heel to face me. “Would you tell him I’m sorry?”
“Excuse me?”
“Just tell him for me. Please.”
“What are you sorry about, Mizu?” I asked, struggling to remain calm. “The fact that you lost your shit, and killed your boyfriend’s fish when he refused to do the dishes?”
Mizu deflected, feigning the victim. “He won’t answer my texts.”
“Why should he?” I countered. “What part of you thinks that this is okay? You text him, he doesn’t respond, so you show up at his apartment? “
“I am not a stalker, if that’s what you’re implying, Kuro.”
“This is exactly what stalkers do,” I snapped. I rubbed a hand over my face. God, I was so tired of being caught in the middle of their shit. “You have a boyfriend now. Tim? Jim? Jim Bob? I don’t even fucking know, but you shouldn’t be this fixated on Phillip. You need to give him space.”
“I have been giving him space, Kuro. For weeks,” Mizu’s temper rose. “Look, there are some things that I don’t want to leave unresolved, okay? When you’re in a serious relationship, you’ll understand.”
“I don’t have to be in a serious relationship to understand that what you’re doing is disgusting. You’re violating the boundaries that he’s set.”
“Violating boundaries? Oh my God,” Mizu laughed until he was breathless. “What about all the times that he’s violated my boundaries? By bringing women into our bed? Showing up
shitfaced to my work events? You sure you want to defend someone like that, Kuro?”
“All the more reason for you two to part ways.”
“Look at you! Thinking you’re so wise,” Mizu laughed, shaking his head. “God, I’ve forgotten how much of a child you are.”
“The only one here acting like a child is you. You’re acting like a child that pitches a fit when he doesn’t get the toy he wants. The only reason you are angry right now is because Phillip won’t talk to you.”
“I am angry because you are defending him. And for what? All you’re ever going to be is just another notch on his belt, you understand that, right?” Mizu demanded, his fists clenched. “That is, if he decides to fuck you.”
“What do you care if I have sex with Phillip?” I retorted, the heat rising to my face. “You don’t own him, Mizu! You can’t control everything that he does just because you force your way into his life!”
“Force my way into his life? Bitch, please. I made that man into who he is today,” Mizu snapped. “If it wasn’t for me, he’d be an unemployed, whiny loser who lives in his mother’s basement. He should thank me, rather than ghost me.”
“You’re just like Dad.”
Mizu was stunned, the color draining from his face.
“You are so much like him, it…” I exhaled slowly, closing my eyes. “It’s beyond scary, honestly. I can’t stand to be around you anymore.” I lifted my hand. “Look. I’m shaking.”
He stared back at me for a few moments, saying nothing. Then he exited the apartment.
* * * *
Phillip didn’t come home until after 7:00 P.M. I was already in bed, watching Glow on Netflix and idly checking off supplies on my course checklist. He passed by without saying anything, and closed his door. When I heard it click shut, the full weight of my loneliness sunk in.
This was supposed to be the one good thing that I have going for me, and I had ruined it. I pushed Phillip away with my neediness; had scared him with the past that I hadn’t disclosed to him. He was already dealing with his own frustrations: his breakup, his back, the brisk manner in which his entire life was upended. I was being selfish and unfair to the one person I wanted to support the most.
I drifted back into the living room, where the blankets laid on the floor. I sat down, and traced the folds of the quilts; the striped patterns of the sheets. I remembered the times that we spent as children, all three of us, poring over comic books. Playing Pokemon Snap on the Nintendo 64. Laughing at Saturday morning cartoons. Even in the midst of our hellish childhood, we had found refuge in some of those moments. Now I can’t even recognize my own brother, and Phillip…that I had ruined. I removed my shirt and pants, and curled up underneath the blankets.
* * * *
Atlantic City, New Jersey. Out of all the places he had lived—Narita, New York, and Minneapolis—my father wanted his ashes scattered in Atlantic City, where he had lived with his aunt and uncle for one summer when he was ten. I don’t know what compelled him to choose this place. Maybe it was nostalgia for his childhood, or perhaps it was his intensifying delirium before death. All I know was that none of us were comfortable with him in our lives any longer, whether as a human or as a pile of ashes.
The August before my junior year of high school, my father finally passed away. We made the almost 1,300-mile drive to New Jersey in our Subaru. His urn was buckled into the passenger’s seat. Mizu, Phillip, and I squeezed into the backseat while Mom drove. Phillip and Mizu held hands the entire trip. Broiling with jealousy, I didn’t speak to either of them until we made it to a McDonald’s outside our destination—and even then, all I said to them was, “Get me a six-piece chicken nugget meal.”
We brought Dad’s urn to the ocean by Brighton Park. There’s a war memorial near there, which I found fitting, not because my father was a veteran, but because a lifetime with him made us all feel like we’d fought in a war. Out of respect for him, Mom made us all wear black clothes, but no shoes. We set the urn down and formed a circle around it. Our toes sifted through the wet white sand. Mom gave a brief eulogy and invited us to share whatever we were feeling. Mizu remained silent, squeezing Phillip’s hand. But I had enough to say for the both of us.
“Just once,” I said, “he could have told us he loved us.”
Mom nodded, tears streaming down her face. Mizu sobbed, burying his face against Phillip’s shoulder.
“Why didn’t we deserve to be loved?” I asked. “I just don’t understand how for all the love we gave him, we got nothing in return.”
I grabbed the urn, weighted with the remains of a bitter, ugly man. Mizu and Mom called out after me, but made no move to stop me. I stumbled forward and hurled the entire thing into the ocean, screaming. I collapsed to the ground and threw sand, trash, seaweed into the water after him. Sink, fucker, sink! The words ripped from my throat like a guttural tiger roar. Mom and Mizu watched in horror. Phillip couldn’t.
“It’s over,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around my body. “Let it sink. Let it sink with him.”
I sobbed, curling up against him like the child I was. I let my feelings sink, and my dreams of having a loving family sink with them.
* * * *
Without warning, a rap song burst into life, its bass shaking the walls with its sound. I stirred awake, drool dripping from the corner of my mouth. Phillip flicked on a light switch and stomped down the hallway. He was trying to pull on his jeans as he walked.
“Oh my God. Who the fuck is playing Big Sean full blast at three A.M.?” Phillip demanded angrily.
He exited out the front door, leaving the door wide open. I sat underneath the ceiling fan in my underwear, shivering. In the darkness I fumbled desperately for my clothes.
Whomp whomp whomp! Phillip’s fist connected with the door. I noticed other residents, wrapped up in their bathrobes, shuffle to the door in their slippers. They joined him, the chorus of their fists as loud and hard as the bass. Whoever lived there refused to open the door, so a resident dialed the police.
Phillip stomped back into our home. “What kind of asshole decides three A.M. is his time to turn up?”
“Someone whose three A.M. is his nine P.M.”
“He could have the common decency to move to another time zone, then. Jesus,” Phillip snapped, pacing the kitchen floor. “Let’s hope the cops get here soon.”
“He’ll probably turn it off just as soon as they pull up.”
Phillip laughed. “He probably will, though.”
Much to my surprise, he came and laid down next to me. We laid there, staring up at the spinning ceiling fan. Bleary eyed, I willed myself to fall back to sleep, but the noise was far too loud. And the fact that Phillip was laying right next to me made me extremely nervous. I could tell that he was waiting either for me to say something, or for the right moment to speak first. I made it easier for him by making the first move.
“I’m sorry,” I told him. “I convinced you to move in here, and the place isn’t just a shithole, it’s filled with shitty people.”
“Not true,” he said, smiling. “You’re here, after all.”
“Eh, I’m not that great. Better than Fuck With You, but not by much.”
“You’re a great person, Kuro,” he murmured. He let out a frustrated sigh. “I just…I worry about you. I think you put a lot of trust in me, and to some extent, you idolize me.” he glanced over. “And sometimes, that’s an awesome feeling. Seriously. I can’t tell you how incredible it is to feel valued. To feel wanted.”
“But…”
“But…at times it’s also overwhelming. It means that I can’t let you down, otherwise that will really hurt you. And when I realize that, the more I think that I don’t deserve you. All of this.”
“I don’t expect you to be perfect,” I said. “I know you’ve done shitty things and will probably keep doing them. You cheated. You’re dependent on painkillers.”
“Don’t forget the fact that I don’t work full time.”
“Then why?”
“Because you’re kind. You’re fun to spend time with. You do your best to stay optimistic and keep an open mind, which I’ve never been able to do. You keep me grounded when I’m at my lowest moments.”
I looked at him. Our hands reached out for each other. I traced his cheekbones, the scars along his collarbone, the faded stitches behind his ear. His fingers roamed the crevices beneath my eyes, the pockmarked curve of my jaw, the crown of my head. He smiled and kissed my jaw, his fingers weaving through mine. He rolled over on top of me, and softly kissed the inside of my neck. I laughed at his ticklish touch.
“I thought you said you didn’t want me,” I said.
“I meant that I don’t want to make a mistake.”
I laughed again. “I’ve made so many. As you have.”
“No,” he said. “You’re the one thing I don’t want to fuck up.”
“But you already have.” That was true. “I’ve been messed up over you for a long time. If you start something and think it’s a mistake, I’m not going to be any worse off than I was before.” That was a lie.
He sat up. “Do you feel like making a mistake?”
I straddled him, throwing my arms around his neck. As my mouth met his, his fingers slid under the elastic waistband of my boxers.
* * * *
I am eighteen years old, graduating from high school, and I am incredibly unexcited. Although I am going to be wearing a graduation gown, my mother insisted I wear a tie. Downstairs Mom and Grandma are arguing about who is going to take pictures. Mizu is sitting at the table and texting his friends hurriedly, irritated that his Saturday is taken up by my graduation. My fingers fumble in front of the mirror as I try over and over again to knot my tie. I haven’t developed the muscle memory for it. Not even YouTube tutorials could help me now.
I don’t even know why I am doing this. I haven’t achieved anything. I barely got my high school diploma. I am attending a community college in the fall. My life hasn’t “started” in the sense everyone said it would. The road ahead feels exhausting and pointless. Years of more school to potentially get a job, which I will inevitably hate. In truth, this is one of the most depressing days of my life.
3 A.M. Page 3