Reclaiming Pride

It’s the morning after, and I feel like Collette chewed me up and spat me out.

The first time she and I robbed a man, I didn’t sleep a wink. I didn’t sleep much last night either, but I did sleep. Unfortunately, that only makes me feel worse. What does it say about me that I’m getting more comfortable committing petty larceny?

We have to stop doing this. I know it’s wrong, and I know when we get caught, there’s going to be hell to pay. But in that one moment last night, we really connected. We were in our own world, one that nobody else could ever understand, let alone intrude on. And in that moment, I truly thought it was worth it.

Today, all I feel is regret. Is this what being an addict is like? Am I addicted to Collette in the worst possible way?

The house is silent as I make my way to the kitchen to start breakfast. It’s early, but I don’t feel like lying in bed any longer.

Besides, if I catch the early train, I can avoid Collette for a while. Given the way she makes me feel, and the things she makes me do, I should probably limit contact with her.

Just for a week or two, until I come to grips with things. I don’t want us to drift apart completely. If I wanted to ruin our friendship, I might as well just confess.

Speaking of, there’s a letter in my shoe box when I get to school. From the faint scent of perfume, I immediately know it’s from a girl. Nobody’s around, so I tear open the envelope and unfold the letter. Sure enough, it’s from a girl asking to meet up before school. She’s got cute handwriting, too.

Not like I have anything better to do. Might as well get it over with.

I trudge out to the usual confession spot, but there’s nobody there. Figures. I got here earlier than expected. It’s fine though. There’s a nice cool breeze this morning, so I lean back and enjoy as it washes over me.

When the girl finally arrives, her face lights up. Poor thing probably thinks I’m early because I was anxious to hear her confession. It’s gonna be difficult to let her down gently.

But somehow, I manage. I’ve gotten depressingly good at this. She cries a little, but they all cry.

The ones who are serious, anyway.

When we’re finished, it’s almost time for homeroom. I push down all those uncomfortable emotions and pretend like I’m not bothered. It’s not just that I need to make sure Collette doesn’t suspect anything. I don’t want to burden her with my feelings. I can at least do that much for her.

⁂

Running has a way of making me relax. Nothing to think about except moving forward. I need that right now, so I spend most of club just running lap after lap.

It makes me feel better, until I stop and find myself right where I started. Sighing, I guzzle an entire bottle of water and head for the changing room.

“Good work out there today.” I’m greeted by the room’s only other occupant, a third-year named Ren, sitting on one of the benches. “You were really in the zone.”

“Had a lot on my mind. Felt good to not think about it.” I open a locker and begin changing clothes.

“Girlfriend problems?”

I’m in the middle of pulling off my shirt, but I stop and let it fall back down. “Despite what you may have heard, she’s not my girlfriend… and that’s the problem.” If there’s anyone at this school I can trust to keep a secret, it’s Ren.

“So she’s free? Maybe I should make a move now that I’m single again.”

“Be my guest. She’ll just shoot you down like everyone else.”

We both chuckle and then fall into an uncomfortable silence. I’m about to turn back toward the locker when Ren says, “Want to talk about it?”

“Thanks, but… I don’t want to dig up fresh wounds.”

She hugs one knee to her chest. “Not so fresh anymore. It’s been three weeks since Mizuki broke up with me.”

I rub my hair. Maybe talking about it will help. “Does that mean it hurts less? Will these feelings ever go away?”

“Yes, and no. It hurts less. I don’t think it will ever stop, but at least it’s bearable now.” She stands up and stretches her arms over her head. “You’re right, I’m not in any state to do this. Let me tell you about a place nearby. They really helped me out a few years ago.”

⁂

At first glance, the counselor seems unreliable. Green hair, piercings, not much older than me. But my parents taught me that if you want to be respected, you have to respect others, so I smile and bow. She returns the gesture.

“What can I help you with?” She sits back down and slides into a comfortable position, and I take that as a cue to do the same.

“There’s a girl I like. Can’t get her out of my mind, and I think it’s turning into an unhealthy obsession.”

“Ah, yeah, that can be disturbing, but it’s important to remember that most people go through something like that, regardless of their sexual orientation. Learning to deal with those feelings is part of what it means to grow up.”

“Of course, it’s just…” I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees, trying to think of what to say, how much I should divulge. “She sits next to me in class, making it impossible to concentrate. No, even if she were in another class, I keep imagining her mouth.”

“Her mouth?” The woman sounds surprised, but not judgemental.

“Her lips, her teeth, her breath, and most of all, her tongue. I can always see them in my mind. I’m always imagining… Well, I suppose you can guess.”

The woman chuckled. “Doesn’t take a genius.”

“I don’t like the way it’s affecting me. The other day, I was in the library and I started imagining her mouth, just floating in midair. It flew toward me and started licking behind my ear, and I just let it. By the time I got control of myself, an hour had passed.”

Rubbing her eyes, the woman sits up straight and leans towards me. “Look, uh, I’m just a volunteer at an LGBTQ center. They train me to empathize with kids facing family and societal pressure because of who they are, to tell them it gets better, and yeah, reassure them that their desires are normal. Floating mouths are a bit beyond my qualifications.”

“So you won’t help me?”

She sighs and shakes her head. “I didn’t say that. It’s just that there are some topics we’re not supposed to discuss with minors unless they bring it up first. We don’t want to encourage them to do certain things that they might not be ready for, but you’ve been incredibly honest. I feel like you deserve honesty from me. It’s going to be very awkward. Is that OK?”

I pause to think about it. If it’s going to be even more uncomfortable, maybe I should see a professional after all. I’m sure if I save up my allowance, and we start robbing salarymen every night… No, I need to put a stop to that. “It’s fine.”

After looking toward the door, she leans in closer and whispers. “Have you tried masturbating? It’s great at relieving sexual tension.”

Ah, so that’s what she meant. Definitely awkward. I nod, but can’t bring myself to say it out loud, so I change the subject. “That’s just half of the problem. The other half is her.”

She lets out a low whistle and leans back again. “I’ve been there. Why don’t you tell me about it?”

“She asks me to do things that I know aren’t right, and against my better judgment, I do them. In the last few weeks, I’ve shoplifted candy, and I beat up a boy who she said was pestering her. Kicked him pretty hard, but he hasn’t snitched on me because he’s too embarrassed to admit he got beat by a girl.”

The woman tries to stifle a snort of laughter, and I swear I hear her say, “Nice.” Then she sits back up and says, “Officially, I have to disapprove, but as long as we’re being honest with each other, teenagers do that kind of shit all the time to impress girls. It’s kind of cute actually. You wouldn’t believe the stunts I’ve pulled.”

“Dye your hair green and get like a million ear piercings?”

“Besides that. When I was studying in America for a year, I was driving this girl I liked home from a party, and for some reason, there was a rubber chicken—You know what? Let’s keep this about you.”

I nod. “That’s probably for the best. It’s not just that I let her pull me around, but the whole time, I fantasize about her. Recently, I’ve started feeling like she owes me a ‘reward’ any time I do anything dangerous at her behest. I almost forced myself on her last night, and I’m worried if this keeps going on, I will.”

“Whatever you do, don’t do that.” The woman’s jovial expression evaporates. “A lot of what we do here is assure kids that their desires are normal, but that’s no excuse to hurt someone else. Sexual attraction has a dark side too. It’s older—more primal—than society. I won’t lie to you and say that our ability to control those destructive impulses is what makes us human. Humans are capable of some nasty shit, but there are some things we can never take back.”

“I’ve already done things I regret. I’ve heard a lot about LGBTQ+ pride, but how am I supposed to be proud of myself?”

Her smile returns. “That’s simple. Difficult, but simple. Stop doing those things, apologize to those you’ve hurt, make amends for the things you can, and learn from the rest.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s the start. After that, you gotta learn to respect yourself like you respect others. You know, all the self-esteem stuff I’m actually trained to help out with.”

“Makes sense. Then, can I come back when I need more assistance?”

“Any time. Our door’s always open.”

⁂

I sleep better that night. Having a plan, even a loose one, to fix my life is a tremendous relief. The next morning though, I’m faced with the bitter reality of what I must do.

If I’m going to stop my destructive behavior, I need to set boundaries with Collette. She’s not going to understand why I’m chickening out all of a sudden.

So I’ll have to confess to her.

Even if it ends our friendship.

It’s a cliché, I know, but if I want to hold my head high, I need to be honest. How can I take pride in myself when I’m desperately hiding who I am?

But I can’t. No matter how hard I try, the words won’t come out. Colette seems distracted by something, and I’m not willing to let our friendship end before it has to. I’m not stupid though. If I continue on this path, I’ll end up blurting out my feelings right before the shit hits the fan.

Obviously, I need more advice, so I return to the LGBTQ+ youth center, but the counselor’s seeing someone else, so I take a seat and wait.

And wait. And wait.

Finally, the door opens, and to my shock, Collette walks out. I’m so surprised that I jump up with such force that I can feel my hair scraping against the ceiling.

If she’s here, that means… she’s gay too? Maybe I have a chance after all. Only one way to find out. Looking her straight in the eyes, I clear my throat.

“Coco—Collette…”