Afternoon group therapy commenced over an hour later than it usually did. When it ended, therapy was over for the week, and, with noone to bother him, Hoku reinstated his policy of pretending not to exist, this time without intending to make any exceptions - not for new friends or for therapists, not even for his big brother.
Though he chatted with the others, Ikari spent a great deal of time just sitting beside Hoku. Hoku didn’t need to remove his head from his arms and look up to know that he was there. He could sense Ikari’s nearness just as he’d always been able to.
Ikari never urged him to talk, to interact or even to eat. He rubbed his back sometimes or placed an arm around him without speaking. At other times, he didn’t try to touch him, but just sat there with him. When Hoku ignored dinnertime, Ikari waited for the snack bin to be put out on the cubicle counter and fetched a rice cake and a granola bar, which he stuck into the crook of Hoku’s elbow.
I wish he’d stop. Hoku remained motionless. Oniichan’s always been the best friend I ever had, but now. . .I can’t be a good brother to HIM anymore. I know he’d be better off without me. He won’t listen if I tell him to go away, but I don’t want him to hurt even worse than he’s already hurting. I already messed up with Uncle Luqman. More than anybody else, I couldn’t stand it if I hurt Oniichan.
“Hoku-kun.”
It was Daichi’s voice. Hoku felt the touch of an unfamiliar hand upon his shoulder. This got him to sit upright, albeit slowly, stiffly and with reluctance. The brightness of the room light made his eyes smart.
Daichi perched on the edge of the couch. “Hoku-kun, when you leave the hospital, they’re probably going to tell you you need to do outpatient therapy. Make sure your uncle lets you do it. This is my first time being in the ward, but I’ve been in outpatient therapy before, and it does help. Even if you have to go more than one time, it’s okay. It may help you to deal with your bad feelings just like it’s helped me.”
Hoku answered with a tiny nod.
“There’s one thing the therapy taught me before about being depressed. Ikari-kun, you can use this, too. When you feel like doing one thing because you’re depressed, like shutting yourself off from everybody else, try your best to do the opposite. Talk to people and try to have fun. I know we can’t really go anywhere anymore thanks to the virus, and you can’t always talk to grownups, but I like Skypeing my friends, and you guys have eachother.”
Hoku’s head was already on its way back into his arms, but he murmured, “ ‘Kay. . .thanks, Daichi-kun.”
Oniichan and I. . .have eachother. That isn’t enough to take the hurt away, and because of that and the way I shut myself off from Oniichan. . .sometimes it feels like the fact we have eachother doesn’t mean anything anymore. But I wonder if Daichi-kun has anybody at home he can talk to.
Hoku lifted his head a fraction. “Oniichan? What did Ayami-san say to you?”
There was a pause, probably because Ikari was surprised that he was really speaking now, before he replied. “She just said I need to go to grief counseling and get help for my depression and anxiety - and that I should talk more to adults instead of trying to handle everything by myself.”
Hoku knew that Ikari had struggled with anxiety for a while, even before they’d lost Mom and Dad. A little less than a year and a half ago, shortly after the outbreak of COVID had become national news, Hoku had entered Ikari’s room in search of his brother, who had been nowhere in sight. He had found him in his closet, huddled up on a heap of clothing, hugging his knees, sobbing.
Ikari had known what chronic anxiety was because Uncle Luqman suffered from it, and his own anxiety, which had been present for a while, had become far more severe and more evident in the wake of the pandemic. But when Hoku had spoken to Mom and Dad about it on his behalf, they hadn’t taken him very seriously. Hoku supposed it had sounded funny to them - a kid diagnosing himself with anxiety disorder - and they’d thought Ikari had been exaggerating a little, repeating things that he’d heard from Uncle Luqman. Still, Dad had hugged them and told them that everything would be all right, that they need not be afraid of the virus, and Mom had made them bowls of ice cream.
“Did she talk to Uncle Luqman?”
”No, she wanted to, but I asked her not to. I didn’t want her to get Uncle involved right now. Suta looks down, so I’m going to go sit with him for a little while, okay?”
Hoku nodded. Suta, sitting on the armchair to the right of the couch, had his face buried into his hands.
Hoku withdrew into himself once again. He saw himself and Ikari walking home together from his favorite place - the library. It was on a summer afternoon last year. The sun was beginning to retire from its peak in the sky. Hoku had exited the library with half of his weight in books. He was using not only his own library card, which had arrived in the mail today, but Ikari’s card, which his big brother had been kind enough to lend him. He had crammed his school backpack with books, had filled two grocery bags, one to hang from the crook of each elbow, and had attempted to carry extra books in his arms. He hadn’t made it ten stumbling steps outside of the library before Ikari had relieved him of the backpack and the books in his arms to carry them himself.
“Hoku, you’re taking half of the library home with you. You don’t need to get so many books at the same time. We can always just walk to the library to get more; we live right down the street.”
“I know, but Mom and Dad won’t let me go by myself, and you won’t take me more than one time every week because it’s hot outside,” Hoku pointed out. “I hate when I run out of books to read before we can go back.”
“You wouldn’t run out of books to read in one week if you didn’t read so fast. How do you even keep up with what’s happening in the stories?”
“I just do. Thanks for carrying those for me, Oniichan.” The second sentence was said with a blush. Hoku knew that he was a greedy book-borrower and read too quickly. Reading time in language arts class at school was never as fun as it might be for him because he had read through his entire reader long ago. He had lacked the willpower to save any of the stories for later.
“Just take care of them and don’t lose any of them. They’ll make us pay for them if we mess up.”
Hoku bounded up the walkway of their house, bags of books swinging from his elbows, to open the door for his brother. “I read in the news about a guy who went to jail because he owed the library so much money for some books he’d lost years ago!”
The boys lugged the books into Hoku’s bedroom, where they dumped them onto his bed - and not a moment too soon; the corner of one book had poked a hole in the bottom of its grocery bag, and now the books all came tearing out.
“I told you you shouldn’t have used grocery bags, Hoku. Good thing it only broke after we got inside.” Ikari helped Hoku to arrange the books into stacks. “Hey, I finally got an idea of what to write next in our story. Want to ask Mom if we can use the computer?”
Hoku’s face lit up. He and Ikari had begun cowriting a story about young adventurers a few weeks ago. “Yeah!”
The scene became a blur. Hoku saw himself sitting before the computer monitor with Ikari. Then, upon the white computer screen, the story characters materialized and became alive. Hoku heard Ikari singing the song he wrote for the story that day.
“Thus ends the story now / Stand up and take a bow / Thus starts a brand new eve for you and me.
”We will glide and soar through the open skies / So do not close your eyes / To the magnificence that rise / When you come with me.”
“Sons,” came Dad’s voice, “you borrowed about fifty books, and now you’re writing a story. Is it really such a good idea to be so immersed in things that aren’t true or real?”
“Don’t worry about it, dear,” Mom could be heard answering. “Storywriting is a perfectly innocent pastime, and they’re still little.”
Hoku realized that he had dozed off when Mom’s and Dad’s voices faded away and the voices of his fellow patients cut into his consciousness. He sat up, scrubbing his eyes with his fists. For how long had he been asleep? He’d been sitting hunched over, and his back ached; his stomach hurt, too, worse than it had earlier. He needed to go to the restroom, but the door to the area was open a crack, which meant that it had been occupied. His friends were preoccupied, as well - with an argument. They spoke in terse, but hushed tones, careful to avoid attracting the attention of the staff members.
“I just don’t think you should talk about people like that, Tengoku,” Ikari was saying. “You keep complaining about people behind their backs, and to me, it isn’t fair.”
“Would you rather I said it to her face? Ajisai gets on my nerves. One minute, she’s hyper and in everybody’s faces, and the next minute, she’s curled up and crying. ‘Oh, I hate it here, I want to go home! My foster parents hate me; nothing’s ever my fault!’ Whining and crying like that’s just going to make them keep her here longer. You might think I’m mean, but it’s the truth!”
So it was Ajisai who was in the bathroom. She might come out at any minute. Would they even bother to stop arguing when she returned?
“She’s younger than we are,” Ikari retorted, “and she’s here because she’s having a hard time, just like the rest of us. You don’t have to act so high and mighty. I’m sure you’re not perfect yourself!”
Tengoku’s voice rose a little. “I’m here, Ikari - I’m here because I want to get better, and I’m actually working hard - trying. What are you even in here for? You and your brother haven’t said a word in any of our groups. Are you trying to get better, or are you just taking up space here and wasting everybody’s time?”
Ikari’s lips tightened. Mizumi attempted to intervene. ”Listen, we’re all here to get better. Noone has to tell everybody why. Noone‘s reasons for needing help are less than anybody else’s.”
The bathroom door opened with a creak.
“You know what you are, Tengoku?” Suta came charging in. “You’re one of those kids who are proud of having a mental illness. You think being able to say you’re bipolar makes you cooler than everybody else. That’s why you go around acting like some stupid edgelord. Noone cares what you think!”
“Stop it!” Teishuki remonstrated. “You guys just stop it. You’re being horrible! Stop fighting!”
“We’re not even fighting, Teishuki,” Tengoku insisted. “Nobody’s fighting! I’m not.”
Ajisai reentered the main area just as Mizumi got to her feet and fled. Teishuki went after her, and they disappeared into the hallway near the bathroom area.
“Mizumi-chan, Teishuki-chan! Why. . .?” Ajisai scanned the others’ faces. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened. Chill out for just one second, Ajisai!”
”Tengoku-kun, you don’t need to be rude.” This was from Daichi.
“No matter what I do, I’m the bad guy!”
“I don’t think you’re a villain,” Ikari contributed. “Just an enormous jerk.”
“Yet from the second you and Hoku got in here, I’ve never been anything but nice to you. You’re the one who had to jump on my case just for having an opinion. You and Daichi haven’t said one word about what Suta said to me!”
“Why in the world would I stick up for you? I don’t care if you question why I’m here, but you tried to insult my little brother, and you did it right where he could hear you. You don’t ever have the right to talk about my brother!”
All eyes were now on Hoku, whom everyone else must have believed was still asleep.
Hoku was on the verge of crying again. Yes, he had heard every word that Tengoku had said about him and Ikari, and he felt both hurt by the words and ashamed of being here in the ward, where perhaps he didn’t belong.
But feeling guilty and hurt isn’t nearly as bad as the depression is. I didn’t realize it before, but even when I‘m shutting myself off from them. . .I need Oniichan and my friends. Hearing them all around me, talking and laughing at the TV and showing eachother their art and comforting eachother, is the only reason why I just feel sad instead of like I‘m going to explode from the pain. Deep down. . .I LOVE all of them. And now they’re ALL sad and mad, and I don’t know what to do.
“What Mizumi-chan said was right. You both make me sick, Tengoku, Suta, with the way you spout off.” Daichi rose and took Ajisai’s hand. “Come on, Ajisai-chan. Let’s go to the art room.”
“I don’t want you guys to fight.” Hoku spoke around a lump in his throat. “Please stop.”
“We’re not fighting!” Tengoku snapped. “Daichi’s the one who’s making this a way bigger deal than it really is while Suta does what he does best - act like a little bitch.”
Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
Suta lunged for him. Ikari managed to intercept him and wrapped his arm around both of his, pinning them to his sides. Tengoku came scrambling for his would-be opponent, but Hoku pushed himself into his path and grabbed hold of his hands. Wisely or not, he tried with all of his might to restrain the older boy.
“Are you stupid, Suta?” Ikari hissed. “You want to be kept in here for a whole MONTH? Be still! Both of you, sit down!”
After a moment’s struggle, Tengoku and Suta decided to heed Ikari’s admonition. They were too late, however, to escape Momonoki-san’s notice. She came marching out of the cubicle.
“What on earth is going on here? Don’t sit and stare at me like that; I saw you all.” There was a note of disbelief in her voice. “Were you boys fighting?”
Hoku, who had been tumbled onto his back, sat up with Ikari’s help. “It was just play-fighting, but we stopped. We’re sorry, Momonoki-san! We won’t make noise in here again.” Will we really be kept in here for a whole month now? What will Uncle say if we get kept back because we’re in trouble?
Momonoki’s gaze swept over the young faces. “You were just playing. Really, Hoku-kun? Ikari-kun, you’re the older brother. You tell me what’s going on!”
“We were getting on eachother’s nerves, but not on purpose, Momonoki-san.” Ikari seemed to hesitate, but, in the end, seemed to feel if he didn’t explain further, they really might all end up in serious trouble. “Someone was crying, and some of us got irritated at the sound, so we started arguing. Suta and Tengoku were about to hit eachother, but they stopped. Nobody got hurt.”
Momonoki-san folded her arms. “There will be no violence in this institution. No fighting, absolutely no hitting! Where is everyone? Where are all the others?”
“I think they went in the art room.”
Momonoki-san turned and marched into the hallway. Though he wanted to follow, Hoku didn’t dare to. The door to the art room opened, and he could hear Momonoki-san exchanging a few words with its occupants.
Momonoki-san seemed to decide that it would be better to leave them undisturbed, however. A short time later, the door shut, and she returned to the living area to address the fighters.
“I want all of you up on the couch, please.” More weary than angry or stern now, she kneaded her brow with her fingertips. “Face me and listen attentively. This is important.
"You are all here because you need help. This holds true no matter what your background is, no matter what your specific issue is, no matter how old you are. Stop being so harsh and judgmental towards eachother! If you’re struggling and you know that the boy or girl beside you is struggling, make your stay here an opportunity to offer him or her some support. Don’t make it an opportunity to complain about or criticize or mock or judge him or her. The boy or girl next to you doesn’t need that!”
Hoku whispered, “Yes, ma’am,” and Ikari mumbled an acquiescence after a moment or two. None of the others said anything, but that must have sufficed for Momonoki-san. She turned to retreat into her cubicle, leaving the main area to be swallowed up by an uncomfortable silence.
Hoku waited until a few minutes had passed and he felt Momonoki-san was completely absorbed in her typing before he took Ikari by the hand and inched with him into the hallway. He opened the art room door a crack and peered in.
Daichi, beside Ajisai, with whom he was sharing a coloring book, sat on the side of the table that was nearest to the door. Across from them was Mizumi, with Teishuki’s arm around her slumped shoulders. Her head was bowed; her face was drawn; her eyes appeared to be dry, but were downcast. For the first time since Hoku had met her, she looked defeated.
Leaving Ikari to converse with Daichi in low tones, Hoku edged up to the older girls. He hesitated, shifted from foot to foot. He had to reach out to them after what had happened, but how much help could he really be?
“Mizumi-chan. . .Teishuki-chan. . .what Tengoku-kun and Suta-kun said. . .please don’t let it get you down.”
“I’m sorry, Hoku-kun.” Mizumi lifted her eyes. She made a shaky attempt at a smile. “I shouldn’t have overreacted. It wasn’t really about what they said, anyway.”
Her gaze fell. “Ikari-kun says that you two lost your mom and dad.”
Hoku nodded slowly.
”I’m like you and Teishuki-chan. I lost my parents in a car crash three years ago.“ Mizumi swallowed, then went on. “After that, like with Teishuki-Chan, my grandma and grandpa became my parents. Really, they’re the ones who have always been there for me - even before my mom and dad died. My grandpa . . .has cancer, and yesterday, I got a call saying that it’s terminal.”
Terminal. Hoku knew what this word meant. Mizumi’s grandfather wouldn’t survive his illness.
Now Mizumi’s eyelashes were glistening with wetness. Hoku knew that he had no healing words or gestures up his sleeve. He hadn’t even learned to heal his own wounds or his big brother’s, and Mizumi’s were different, for Mom and Dad had been there for him and Ikari from the beginning until the day that they had passed, and they hadn’t known that Mom and Dad would die. Yes, they had been worried for them when, a few weeks before their deaths, they’d become sick, but the boys had been assured that everything would be fine. Their deaths had come as a shock, but Hoku and Ikari hadn’t had to watch for days, weeks, months as Mom and Dad had suffered, paled and faded away.
Hoku could only fetch a wad of napkins for Mizumi, then sit beside her, sandwiching her between himself and Teishuki, and hold her hand. He hoped that somehow, what little warmth was in his hand could find its way through Mizumi’s and into her heart to work a tiny bit of healing magic.
Not long afterwards, Tengoku and Suta joined them in the art room. The corners of Suta’s eyes were webbed with red; Tengoku was sniffling. Both boys had their arms around eachother, and they remained that way as they slid down into a pair of chairs.
Daichi-kun’s leaving tomorrow, Hoku thought. I hope he gets better and stays that way forever and even longer than forever. But somebody who’s as peaceful and nice as he is - I hate that he’s leaving us. Ajisai-chan will be really sad, too. And then Mizumi-chan. . .I wonder when she’ll leave. I’ll hate not having her around, and Teishuki-chan will probably miss her most of all. And when they’re gone. . .how long will Oniichan and I be in here? They said one week or maybe two. What if, even after two weeks, I’m not even a little bit better? Can they really keep people in the ward for a whole month like Oniichan said a little while ago?
If it will help make the bad feelings go away, I’m not scared to be in the hospital for as long as it takes. But I don’t want Oniichan to stay in this place for a long time just because of me, and without our gentlest and calmest friends. . .I think everything will be lonelier and sadder in here.
At length, Mizumi patted Hoku’s hand, giving him leave to let go of hers. She smiled at him, a clearer and steadier smile this time. Hoku realized that he hadn’t smiled since the moment he’d exchanged greetings with Mizumi and Tengoku on their first night. He wanted to try to return Mizumi’s smile, but he knew that his would only look forced. His stomach pains hadn’t abated, which, considering the fact that he still hadn’t eaten anything that day, was no surprise.
As he rested and cooled off in the bathroom, he thought, I don’t think Oniichan’s smiled since we first got here, either. If he has, I haven’t seen him. Even Teishuki-chan’s laughed at the TV. So that makes Oniichan, me and Suta-kun the only ones who haven’t smiled at all.
Hoku found himself reflecting upon what Daichi had said to him earlier.
When you’re depressed. . .it helps to do the opposite of what the depression’s telling you to do. I didn’t think that much about what Daichi-kun said because I felt like I’d tried it before and it didn’t work. But what Daichi-kun said I should do . . .isn’t that what he and all the others are doing already? They feel sad and scared, and sometimes they cry, and they’re tired, but they still try to talk to eachother instead of hiding away. Ajisai-chan just wants to be home, listening to her favorite songs and playing with her dog and her toys, but she still tries to have fun with the TV and the boring old coloring books. Teishuki-chan doesn’t like the food they have here; noone does, but she still makes herself eat at least one meal every day.
Back at home, I did try to do the opposite of what the sadness made me want to do, and it’s true it didn’t work and I gave up. But maybe that was different. Back at home, I couldn’t talk to my grandma or my cousins about the things that were scaring me because I thought they’d be upset at me. With the kids here, I don’t have to be afraid they’ll be mad at me; they don’t care about what I believe. And when I tried before, I was trying to make the depression go away. I can’t make it go away on my own. But if I work hard, maybe I can forget about it - at least for a few minutes at a time.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
That next morning, Hoku made an effort to eat breakfast. He couldn’t manage more than two bites before his aching, knotted stomach refused to cooperate further, but he sat in the sunny cafeteria with the others until mealtime was over.
Daichi was due to be released from the ward late this afternoon. As they all filed down the hall towards the living area, Hoku gave Ikari’s sleeve a tug. He whispered to his startled brother, “Oniichan, I want to make a goodbye present for Daichi-kun. Can you help me?”
They settled down together at the round table and got to work. Hoku knew that he wasn’t nearly as skilled an artist as Ikari was; still, he put all of his effort into drawing with a steady hand and crayoning boldly. He drew water lilies of many colors - pink, golden, white and blue. Ikari helped him with the leaves and the shading, then, when the line art and coloring were finished, carefully traced the edges of the blossoms with glitter-glue.
It was the work of almost two hours, and when it was over, Hoku’s elbows ached from bearing down into the tabletop, but he spread their creation out on the tabletop and stood back to admire its beauty.
“It looks good, but it’s a little plain,” Ikari pointed out. “I think it’s missing something. We should do a quick background for it.”
The backgrounds of pictures were usually skies, and Hoku didn’t want Ikari to draw a sky. “I suck at doing backgrounds. It won’t look so empty if I draw his name across the top in big letters.”
Ikari assented, so, using a dark blue tube of glitter-glue, Hoku wrote across the horizon of the picture, in large letters and the finest, fanciest swooping and curling style that he could manage:
FOR DAICHI-KUN. FOREVER FRIENDS.
The brothers approached Daichi, who, along with the others, was watching cartoons. A little bashfully, Hoku pushed the sheet of paper into his view.
”Daichi-kun. . .”
Daichi broke away from the television. He took the drawing into his hands. “You made this for me? . . .Wow, thanks, Hoku-kun!”
“Oniichan and I both made it.”
Daichi set the drawing aside. He, Ikari and Hoku all went in for a group hug.
“Thanks, Ikari-kun, Hoku-kun.” When he drew away, Daichi was blinking hard, and his voice was a little choked. “This isn’t the last time we’ll all see eachother. If you get outpatient therapy, we’ll meet eachother there.”
Daichi found a pad of blue sticky notes and peeled two off. On each of them, one for Ikari and one for Hoku, he wrote his phone number. With that, a trend of making pieces of art as goodbye gifts and exchanging phone numbers began in the ward. Everyone piled into the art room. As others worked on their gifts, Hoku sketched anything that he could think of and that did not involve the sun or the sky, from flowers to boats to bags of chips to wacky cars.
His sadness was still there, and his stomach still hurt. In fact, the stomach pains had worsened. Ajisai’s eraser had reappeared between the door and the doorjamb of the quiet room area. It was wrong to break the rules, but so long as the eraser escaped Junko-san’s and Nijiko-san’s notice, Hoku had no intentions of complaining or being a tattletale. His body felt heavy, and he was slow whenever he walked. But his heart was surviving, even if it wasn’t smiling brightly.