Page 75 of The Golden Boy's Guide to Bipolar
M is for magic. Enchanting and bewitching in the best way, until I disappeared in a puff of smoke. Maybe I was the illusion all along.
A is for always. Always understanding. Always on my mind. Always without him.
L is for lost. L is for light. L is for laugh. Love. Lost. Lucky. Lost.Lost.
An email notification finally pulls me out of my brooding. I haven’t checked my email since I got that message from my dad, but I doubt I’ve missed much other than spam. This subject line and preview, while still Bible related, feels a lot less earth-shattering.
Subject: horoverse of the day
Moni and I had a nice talk about...
When I open up the Gmail app on my phone to read Abuela’s message, the email from my dad taunts me. It takes all my willpower not to click and fixate on that instead. I haven’t been able to bring myself to delete his message, but I know if I open it, I’ll go spiraling again. I finally force myself to click on the one from my grandma instead.
Subject: horoverse of the day
Moni and I had a nice talk about the horoverse from today, and I thought you might like to hear about it. I got your email address from your mami since I haven’t heard from you yet. I’m sure you’re busy so I won’t keep you long, but I wanted to share today’s scripture as it made me think of you.
Can a fig tree, my brothers, bear olives, or a grapevine produce figs? Neither can a salt pond yield fresh water.
Ha! Maybe we’re just a couple of fig trees trying to make grapes. Silly, isn’t it? We beat ourselves up over not being able to make grapes when we could be enjoying the free figs! Your mami actually told me something like this when she was younger, and I brushed it off.
For years, your mami was stuck on milk and wouldn’t drink anything else. She absolutely loved oranges, so I thought if I tricked her into trying orange juice by saying it was milk, she’d realize how much she loves it and be able to branch out.
I should have known that was a mistake. Not only did she lose trust in me, but she was repulsed by orange juice for another decade. She may love orange juice now, but it took her so long to warm back up to it. She later told me she would have loved orange juice if I hadn’t pretended it was something it wasn’t. That it was the expectation, not the taste that ruined it for her.
I want you to remember this when you feel pressured to be anything other than your natural self. We may not be able to control what others expect from us, but we can start by accepting ourselves for who we are, and enjoying whatever fruit we happen to bear (however forbidden it may be).
At first I can’t help but wonder if Abuela knows I’m bi. If that’s yet another thing Dr. Lee or even my mom snitched on me about. Is she trying to encourage me to accept my sexuality? Does she know about Jamal? But then logic resurfaces, and I realize she’s talking about bipolar. Which would be much more relevant for me and Abuela.
Before I can read too much into it, there’s a thump on my bedroom window, like a small bird flew into it or something. I’m too depressed to get up and check it out, so I just roll over in bed.
Another thump.
The hell?
After a third thump, I finally get up and go to my window, opening the blinds to see Hunter standing outside with a few pebbles in hand. I open it.
“Hunter? What are you doing here?” I ask, my manners completely missing in my depression haze.
“I’m gonna break you out of here,” he says with a determined look.
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re grounded, right? What kind of friend would I be if I let you stay cooped up in your house with no contact with the outside world formonths?”
Guilt swirls around in my chest again. He thinks that’s why I haven’t been answering his calls or texts. And yeah, I am kind of grounded, but I have my phone. I have access to the outside world. I just don’t have the energy to enter it.
“You don’t have to do that. I’m okay, really,” I say.
“The world hasn’t stopped turning, bro. I’m not gonna let you waste away stuck in here alone when I could be taking you to your first-ever college party. I’m officially kidnapping you.” He smirks and puffs out his chest.
I laugh, and Hunter steps toward me, grabbing my wrist and practically yanking me out the window.
“I’m not ready!” I protest, but he doesn’t stop.
“You look fine. And I’m kidnapping you, remember? You don’t have to be ready.”
I let out an actual giggle as he pulls me out the window. You know what, why the hell not? I could use a drink or four.
