True As It Can Be - 13. Chapter 13

After reading Mrs. Potter’s short text message, dread and guilt flowed like a raging river. I pulled Brad up to come with me. We had no time for plans or ruminations about the past or potential future that awaits. We walked through the wooded areas instead of the lighted path back to Keller Hall. I no longer worried about Gary Gaston descending from the shadows. I blamed myself as childish and unfounded as those feelings were. Min’s boyfriend was dead, the same boyfriend he had loved for years, stood by his side in the shame of being a gay pornographic actor to support himself, and ultimately dying from an accident Min caused. I learned all these facts earlier today, when Gary Gaston out of spite for Min’s defense of me revealed Min’s past to the entire University. Even if I had no direct hand in Min’s past, I added to his current pain and his feelings of helplessness.

Brad of course asked me, why we are rushing back, so I told him of all I learned and all I felt as we made our way in the dark wooded path toward our destination. His grip tightens on me as I spoke and when I finished locked his arm under my elbow as we neared the entrance of Keller Hall. I tried to run to the entrance, but he held me back.

I look up at his masked face, “We have to go Brad, I have to go…”

Brad pulls down his mask with his free hand and kisses my forehead, the feeling of his hot breath on my skin ends my protests.

“No, you must first calm down, Beau. He needs you at your best, not in panic. Use your marvelous mind, your honest heart, and your endearing soul, just as you did with me. None of what happened is your fault, not in the past and not today.”

I take heavy breaths in and out before responding to Brad, “You’re right, I’m better than this,” I stare up in wonder at his sapphire eyes.

Brad releases his grip on me and rubs my back, “Let’s go inside, we can talk to Cook to see what we can do for Min.”

Shit, I’m supposed to be the level-headed one in our relationship. I’m not lucky that any of this happened at all, but it’s a small mercy this happened on Monday, when Brad’s methadone dose from Saturday night hasn’t worn off. He’s lucid, authoritative, and commanding in a way that I haven’t seen him being in the last 5 days. While I am thinking about what to say to Min, my thoughts can’t help, but drift to my boyfriend and this side of him. This is Brad Brooks before Gary Gaston fucked him over. Part of me knew this intellectually, I’ve seen glimpses of it during the worst of his methadone withdrawal as well. I found this version of Brad and the beaten-down version of Brad during our conversation just minutes ago, indistinguishable. In both cases, Brad was always showing empathy around me. I wonder if Gary manipulated his empathy just like he does everything else. A guy, who would take in a homeless puppy, or dorm-less boy, should be in line for a humanitarian award, not beaten up and sexually assaulted by former friends for being an asshole.

Most people assume having empathy means you will be good at dealing with others and not be selfish in your choices, but that assumes people exist in a vacuum. No one is that perfect, despite what Disney movies promise.

Cook intercepted us as we walked towards Min’s room. He shook his head at us to not go further. Cook looked like someone just kicked a puppy. He probably spent a lot of time talking with Min, trying to calm him, and rationalize his loss. Based on his emotional expression, I fear it didn’t go well at all.

As he leads us to his bedroom, Cook confirms my fears, “I learned what happened before Min. I sent Mrs. Potter to fetch him from his classroom. I did as much preparation as I could. When Min came back to Keller Hall, I sat him down and told him. Ito Nakamura passed away peacefully about 5 hours ago. Min has shut himself in his room. I removed the locks before he returned, but he will scream if anyone enters his room. I also placed a few spare cameras in his room to monitor his condition. We told the other guys that Min wants no one near him.”

I take in everything Cook is telling us, but it didn’t answer the most important and ironically for Cook’s profession, pertinent question, “How is he feeling?”

Cook recognize my point and sighs, “He’s in shock. He hasn’t processed the news fully and grief hasn’t made an appearance yet. It will happen, though. Once grief actually takes hold, Min will be hit with a tsunami of emotions.”

Brad, putting his hand on my shoulder, asks Cook with concern, “What should I do for him? Do you need something, like more medicine or equipment? I can get…”

Cook shakes his head, “It’s not a matter of material Brad or what you can provide. He needs comfort from others. However, he doesn’t want anyone to be near him. I am only monitoring him through a video feed right now.”

Cook showed us a video feed on his smartphone, Min was sitting in his wheelchair staring at the wall. It almost looked like a static picture, if it wasn’t for the slight movements of Min’s head swaying slightly up and down. The scene is quite bizarre and I half expected a jump scare from one of the Paranormal Activity or other found footage horror movies.

Brad was right that Min needed me to be calm, but how do you help someone who does not want anyone near them? How do you help someone who will scream and yell at you if you approach them? While Brad and I have started becoming friends with Min over the weekend, we’re nowhere near the level of friendship or familiarity to get past those kinds of defenses. I only learned about Min’s past today and I only got a brief bias version from Gary Gaston, one of the worst human beings on earth. I don’t know enough about Ito Nakamura, his now dead boyfriend, to offer context or commiserate with Min. I don’t know what type of culture Japan has about the exposed acts of gay pornography; though, I doubt it would be any more accepting than American counterparts based on past news scandals. In truth, I can’t really offer Min anything that Cook hasn’t.

To alleviate my fears of Min and his all-consuming guilt and despair, my mind went to statistics that we were covering in Introductory Psychology concerning global suicide rates. While Japan has historically been linked with suicide as a matter of tradition and stereotypes, they’ve been making major strides in recent decades. As of 2018, they’ve fallen down to the 40^th for most suicides among nations for overall suicide rates per 100,000 people from being among the top 10 merely a few decades ago. Progressive therapies and social reforms made life a bit more bearable according to my psych Professor from his lecture. However, it also reminded me of another factoid from the same lecture. the United States has seen its own suicide rate rising, it’s rate in 2018 was ranked 35^th for most suicides per 100,000 people in the world. Our mental health infrastructure is antiquated and degrading with a lack of investment. These facts are useless or depressing as hell in context to our current issues.

A question came to my mind with these recollection and thoughts, why are college students in the US with my interest in psychology only being taught introductory materials based on statistics, when actual case studies and scenarios from higher level classes would be more useful? Perhaps that’s why things have gotten so bad over the years, there’s a drive for data rather than understanding.

With all those thoughts in mind, I break the silent viewing of Min’s pain, “We should go in there, whether he wants us to be or not. The pain might be personal, but it doesn’t need to be bore alone.”

Cook shakes his head, “No, I am sorry Beau, but Min has made his personal wishes clear. I can keep an eye on him and prevent him from self-harm along with Mrs. Potter. There’s no need to…”

Ignoring Cook’s advice, I turn to Brad, “I want you to come with me. We’re going to get Warren, Francis, and Paki as well. Min isn’t going to do this alone. He can scream and yell at us, hate that we’re invading his space. I don’t care. No one should be dealing with this alone, even if it’s their wish. That’s what being a friend is about.”

Brad blinks at me, then nods, “Okay, Beau.”

We left Cook’s room and went around Keller Hall gathering the other guys. I went to Paki’s room for the first time as the last time I only saw glimpses of it. His room was furnished with floral patterns and several amazing paintings. Despite having only one hand, Paki seems to have an active interest in design and art, his painting of the library’s exterior scene could have been an actual photograph with his focus on shadows and imperfections increasing realism. He has an area of his room dedicated to painting, where an easel, canvas, and paints are arrayed opposite a scenic window that gave Paki an unobstructed view of the wooded path leading to Keller Hall. I would have loved to ask Paki about his art, but he wasn’t in his room. I was deeply disappointed by the inability to find Paki.

Next, we went to Francis’ room, Paki and Francis were cuddled up against each other. Francis’ room is very bear with only exercise equipment and very little showcasing his personal interests. However, I did notice the violin-like instrument, I think it’s called a Pochette, on the table along with a flute from his parents. These obviously have been used recently. I know Francis’ blindness hinders him from certain activities, but I do wonder what he was into before beyond sports.

I spotted Paki and Francis shirtless on the bed, but still had their pants on. It appeared purely to be a comforting position rather than a sexual one between them. While Francis is oblivious to our presence, Paki looks up at us in surprise and stirs Francis to attention.

Staring at them both, I ask, “You guys know what happened today with Min’s boyfriend,” they nod, “I want as many of us to be near him for the next few days as possible. I know it’s almost Thanksgiving and we all barely know each other, but he needs friends right now. Will you join me and Brad?”

After a pause, Francis speaks with a bit of incredulity from being stirred out of his contented snuggle session, “Beau, are your sure Brad is going to be there to comfort Min?”

Being blind, Francis couldn’t see his former friend is present as well. I know despite the small steps forward over the weekend, things remain unresolve between them, both in terms of what happened to cause Francis’ blindness and Francis’ unrequited feelings for Brad.

Brad, by my side, answers, “Yes, I will be there for Min,” Brad sighs and softens his voice, “I should have been there for you too.”

It’s not a full apology, but I hope Francis accepted it as a small gesture forward. The silence of Brad’s answer to the simple question to Francis seem like an eternity.

Paki takes Francis’ hand in his own, replies to my initial request, “We’ll join you outside his room in a few minutes. No one should feel abandoned after suffering a massive loss.”

Next, we went to Warren’s room and he was reading what appears to be a book on modern Finance. It was the first time I entered Warren’s room. While Brad and Francis’ room were organized with objects denoting their athletic natures with slight differences, Francis had more weight lifting sets and Brad as I learned with my recent stays in his room had several bookshelves. They were filled with an odd mixture of reference books, along with a full range of gay magazines and gay porn movies. Warren’s room is practical and sterile with college text books and personal pictures of Noah, his boyfriend. Warren is a closed-off person, but I know he’s not an asshole. The betrayal of his former lover, Derek, was traumatic, along with the transphobia he faced due to it.

I clear my voice and ask Warren, “Can you join me, Brad, Paki, and Francis in Min’s room to comfort him? He needs friends right now.”

Warren drops his book and turns to us, “Beau, Min doesn’t want us in there and we shouldn’t push him if he doesn’t want it. That’s his choice, his dead boyfriend, and his pain to bear. It’s wrong for us to be apart of something that personal.”

I shake my head in disagreement, readying an argument for Warren, “You know people say one thing, but mean another. You know that better than any of us Warren. We are his friends and I know we’re not even close friends. Yet, we can’t just leave him alone to stew over his pain and misery, we can’t be held back by his words spoken out of shock or our own personal fears to interact with him. I can’t force you to be there with us, but I do hope that you will choose to be there for him, so he can feel just a little less alone. I think beyond just boyfriends showing it, real friends also show they care by ignoring your wishes, just like Noah ignores your request to move on by sending you pictures every month.”

Warren expression shifts slightly, I know he doesn’t want to address my argument.

He notices Brad near me. then asks Brad pointedly, “Why are you going? You don’t even care about any of us. I know you’re planning on leaving this university from all the yelling sessions you had with Cook about being near Gary Gaston. No one would even blame you either with the bullshit he’s pulled today. That bastard is a piece of work, who deserves a noose or a bullet between the eyes, but he’s got his claws dug in to this university with his money and now position. You’ll leave soon, so why even bother comforting Min, if you intend to dump us all in the end?”

Brad glares at Warren, but I rub his back, trying to calm him before he can speak.

Brad calmly replies, “I’m not a monster, I care about people and I do care about my friends, including Min. Yeah, I wanted to leave this place, because of Gary and his bullshit. Today, I still want to run-off, except Beau is right,” Brad acknowledges me with a possessive half hug, “After what Gary did to me, I was lost and felt alone. No one should feel abandoned or alone. I’m not a good person or a good friend, but I can at least do this. I don’t want despair to consume Min due to the revelations from today or the death of his boyfriend. I don’t want Gary to win.”

Warren gazes down to the floor, sighing, “Brad Brooks, I don’t know if I can trust you to be my friend like I do with Paki, Francis, and Beau. I’m willing to act like a friend for Min’s sake, because Beau is right about the meaning of friendship and you are right about not letting Gary Gaston destroy someone with his words.”

The 5 of us gathered outside of Min’s room, we were readying ourselves to open the door. I had brought my laptop and books with me, which I think everyone else had as well. Brad brought several pillows and comforters from the linen closet.

Before we can open the door though, Chip appeared. He was pushing a cart full of sandwiches, chips, and sodas. He was wearing a black Pokémon T-shirt with what appears to be a black and white polka-dot skirt. His expression was somber and his face seem paler than normal. If I am not mistaken, he's wearing makeup, but unlike Paki’s bright hues or Warren reserved shades to hide his imperfections, Chip did it to show off his emotions. Everyone was floored by Chip’s current look, which resembles a Halloween costume.

Sensing issues, I approach him, “Chip, what happened to you today?”

Chip points to his heart and utters, “Broken,” he looks at all of us, “Brought food for everyone.”

I know Chip had a boyfriend in school, named Robby. I guess with the appearance of his non-gender conforming goth look, they broke up. I didn’t intend to invite Chip to join us in the sit-in, he’s only 12 and shouldn’t be dealing with stuff like this or topics that Min confronted. However, seeing him earnestly wanting to join us older boys and bringing us a cart full of food and drinks, I couldn’t bear telling him to go away. If we don’t want Min to feel abandoned in the midst of his sadness, I don’t want to abandon Chip during his emotional crisis, either. Thus, the 6 of us entered Min’s room.

I entered the room first, so Min was about to yell at me. Then saw the others entering as well, so he held his scream. We formed a semi-circle around him, surrounding him.

Before he could process what we are doing, I state to him formally why we are all here, “Min, we know what happened to your boyfriend Ito Nakamura. We understand you are sad. We know you said that you want to be alone. We’re not going to force you to speak, or push you to interact with us. We just want to be here for you and want you to know we’re your friends. Our action and presence here is for you.”

That night, Min watched us as we sat around him. We spoke quietly to one another and did our homework. Chip cuddled up to Paki and Francis, who whispered encouragement to him about his prospects at finding a boyfriend. They told him his next boyfriend will love him and be faithful to him. Warren read his book and typed away at his laptop, but he did periodically check on Min. I read an assigned book I had photocopied from the library earlier today with Brad being my usual storytelling audience. I stood up a few times to place a snack or a can of soda near Min, he began eating the food after midnight.

After eating 2 stale sandwiches, a sleeve of Oreo cookies, and drinking 2 sodas, Min began to sob. There were no words we could have said to Min to make things better or reverse the course of reality. We took turns offering him tissues, glasses of water, or additional snacks throughout the night, until Min’s sobs ended and his eyes closed for a fitful slumber. Soon sleep overtook everyone in the room after Min’s tears.

Tuesday Morning, my phone’s alarm woke us all up at 6 AM, I needed to prepare for my work study job at the library. Morris has hours at the same time as me today, so I don’t need any of my friends to be around me in the library today. Though I probably don’t need the money anymore, I don’t want to become reliant on Brad for stuff, I know he doesn’t mind, but I am not his homeless puppy. If this relationship we have is going to progress any further, I want to be able to be independent sometimes. My classes would be later in the day and I could take them online if I needed to, which was a tempting offer with the presence of a Gary Gaston-led student watch monitoring my movements. However, I won’t let that asshole stop me from actually attending my classes in person.

As I woke up, I notice a pungent smell throughout the room. It smelled bad like something very sour. I remember smelling something similar, when my uncle had me mucking out his horse stalls. From the expression of everyone in the room, they smelled the same thing as me. I looked at the cart of food, but I could tell the smell was not coming off stale bread and lukewarm cola. I stared up at Brad, who was gazing at Min. I turn my head and sniff in that direction, realizing where the smell came from.

Min’s focus was on the front of his pants, I saw a blush of embarrassment and shame at the revelation of his inability to hold his bladder.

Chip also smelled the foul odor from Min, he gives each of us a defensive stare, “I have to find my mom to change his diaper. Min isn’t a baby, but he sometimes can’t get to the bathroom quick enough, so he wears a diaper. I saw my mom changing him a few times. I used to wet my bed too. My dad made me sleep naked and hit me to stop it. My mom stop him from hurting me and got me big boy diapers for a few months, before it went away. Not everyone can control what happens with their body, please don’t be mad at Min.”

We all nodded.

I look straight up at Min, “Don’t worry about its Min, I’ve mucked horse stalls with worse smells than this.”

Paki follows me, “Yes, in Pretoria, a thousand men relieve themselves on the streets every day after waking up with a babelaas. I’ve developed a strong impumlo.”

Warren snorts, “Try waking up with the smell of Florida’s wetland.”

Brad jumps in, “I’m used to being out in nature and smelling worse. I even brought Francis on a few long hiking trips and stepped in some badly made crap holes.”

Francis’ face flashed red, “You didn’t tell me where to dig or to cover up the spot after I was done.”

The friendly banter soothed any tension that Min had over wetting himself overnight. Chip left the room to find Mrs. Potter.

I stretched my legs and began to walk out the room as well, but stopped as I heard Min speak.

“Everyone, thank you, your loyalty to me last night and this morning was beyond being my tomodachi-tachi. You are my daishinyuu, my very best friends. I appreciate all of your efforts.”

I do not know what will become of me, Brad, or the rest of Keller Hall with everything that Gary Gaston has arrayed against us. However, I do know that whatever it is, we’re not going to face it alone. Last night’s spontaneous gathering of support cemented our friendships.