Extraordinary fun

Ethereal thrills

A laugh so cruel

Fulfills me like fuel

I am not proud

Comfortably fake

Cerebral disconnect

Often recollect

Just to escape

This flat world

--From the song Evade

Lyrics By: Orion Bauwens

I'm inpatient for one hundred and twenty days. One hundred and twenty days! That's nearly four damn months!

It's my fault though. I was stupid and had a relapse. I thought I could get away with sneaking away into the bathroom. But as soon as my fingers were down my throat I knew I had made a mistake. It had been so long since I did that (eighty three days, to be exact) I gagged really loudly, and wretched even louder.

On the bright side I was happy that throwing up felt disgusting again like it was supposed to. But the down side was I had to go back to not being allowed in the bathroom alone. I had made it to where someone just stood outside the door. But that stupid incident landed me right back at square one, and it tacked on more days to my stay.

But now all that was over. I can't even describe the exhilaration behind knowing that when I walked out of the front door this time, it was for good. Don't get me wrong; there were some parts I liked. I liked the strict routine. I came to like the people. I liked the journals they dolled out, encouraging everyone to write.

Sometimes we had written assignments, but sometimes we didn't. I was the only one who had to ask for a new journal. Mine was stuffed full with lyrics, poems, notes to myself, notes to other people, drawings. Most of it was filled with my thoughts.

I carried it around with me always. I didn't realize how therapeutic journaling could be. It was great, purging my thoughts onto paper just like I used to purge food. Any time I had a negative thought about myself I would stop whatever I was doing to write it down.

Let's just say I wrote a lot.

But now here I was, duffel bag slung over my shoulder, grinning like a maniac. I was freshly shaven, which admittedly was weird. I have a bit of a baby face, and going that long without shaving I had accrued quite the beard. I had never had one in my entire life. So it was weird not having it suddenly, and it was weird that it was weird. I felt naked somehow.

I was happy I had shaved a few days prior to my release; sure enough my skin was irritated immediately after, and it had taken awhile to hack away at it. It was a cathartic release for me. Poetic, watching the hair fall from my face, revealing the young-looking man I once was. It was a metamorphosis back to myself, but I also felt new. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once.  

The man staring back at me in the mirror, freshly shaven, deep dark eyes that were the cracks into my soul...Did I even know him anymore? Had he always been there, and he had just been locked away? Was he the same, or different? If he were different, just how different? Was I strong enough to find out?

Even worse--what if he wasn't different at all, and I had just wasted the past four months of my life? I fully admit I stood in front of that mirror a bit longer than I should have, gripping the sink edge until my knuckles turned white, afraid of this face that was looking back at me. Afraid of the unknown; afraid to admit to myself that I might never change for the better. I might spend the rest of my life hurting myself, hurting everyone around me.

I learned a hard truth that day.

It sucks being afraid of yourself.

Jake is barreling towards me. When he reaches me he ploughs into me, nearly knocking us both down. I laugh, dropping my bag. We hug for a long while on the broad sidewalk, Jake swaying us back and forth.

Once he releases me it all starts over again, this time Ben hugging me ferociously. He gives me a peck on the cheek and ruffles my hair. I laugh, hoping they don't notice me quickly wipe away a tear.

"Jesus guys," I say, grabbing my bag as the three of us head towards the parking lot, "it's not like I didn't see you every week."

"This is different," Ben says, grinning and shaking my shoulders so hard my head bobs around.

"How's it feel?" Jake says, also grinning. We probably look like idiots, huge stupid grins plastered on all our faces.

"Wonderful," I say honestly. I lift up my shirt. "And look!"

"Hey, your stomach isn't concave!" Ben says happily.

Jake slaps my stomach and I put my shirt down, laughing. He slings his arm around my shoulders. "Good job."

We've reached the car. I head to climb in the back but Jake opens the front passenger side for me. "Here, sit up front."

Thinking nothing of it I slide in, adjusting my duffel between my legs. Jake and Ben situate themselves in back. I shut the door and put on my seat belt. It's not until I look at who's driving do I understand why they had me sit up front.

"Tristan?!"

He grins. "Hey, Orio."

I'm stunned. Besides that one visit he hadn't come to see me at all. I didn't blame him; the rehab place was in California. I wouldn't expect him to come visit all the way from Texas.

"Oh my God!" I finally exclaim, lunging to him and pulling him into a tight hug. "What're you--what are you doing here?"

Tristan laughs. "Driving your stupid ass to the airport."

"Our stupid asses," Ben corrects.

I crane my neck around. Jake and Ben are grinning even more wildly somehow. I look back at Tristan as he starts driving.

"Uhhhhh...what is going on?"

"We're going home."

My eyes widen at Ben's words. Home was Vermont. Home was where we had all bought houses on the same block. Home was where we escaped to every time a tour was over.

"With Tristan," Ben says.

Bewildered, my head snaps back around. "Huh?"

"If that's okay," Tristan says, taking my hand into his own.

"Of course," I reply immediately. "I just--it's just--"

"I've been working odd jobs here and there," he interrupts. "I don't really have roots anywhere." He lets go of my hand then and looks pointedly at the road. "So if you don't want me to tag along, it's not a big deal--"

I grab his hand, bringing his knuckles to my lips and kissing them. He looks at me and I grin.

"I'd love for you to come."

"Yay!" Ben shouts happily, throwing his arms into the air like a kid.

"See Tristan," Jake says, leaning forward in his seat. "I told you Orion would want you to come with."

Tristan just smiles.

~

"I need coffee," I moan loudly.

"Coffee?" Ben crinkles his nose. "Since when do you like coffee?"

"Since it was all there was to drink in rehab that wasn't either water--boring--or juice--which is too sweet and makes my stomach hurt."

"That's fair."

"Speaking of things that hurt my stomach," I say, coming to the front of the three men and walking backwards. I lower my voice. "There's some things, ground rules, I need to lay out for you. We can discuss some later but I wanna talk about one right now."

"Of course, anything," Jake says earnestly.

"Yeah, man," Ben adds, "we're here for you. Whatever you need."

I furtively glance around, adjusting my hoodie and my prescription sunglasses. "I need you guys to make sure I eat, okay? And I need you to be on my ass about it, no matter how much I moan and groan."

"Got it," they all say.

"And there's some things I steer away from, like juice. I... kinda did a number on myself accidentally, so anything overly acidic or overly sweet really upsets my stomach." I point at them. "So only black coffee if you guys ever buy me some, got it?"

"Got it," they repeat together.

I grin and turn back around. "Thanks."

"I thought coffee was really acidic too?" Ben quips.

I shrug. "Well it doesn't hurt my stomach."

Minutes later we're at a small Starbucks. We've all ordered except Jake. He's half bent over, hands behind his back, staring at the glass that holds pastries.

"You're turn," I tell him.

He looks at me. "Are muffins too sweet for you?"

"Yeah..."

"Scone?"

I shake my head. He smiles. "Alright, I'll have a grande caramel macchiato and a lemon scone."

I roll my eyes behind my glasses. After we pay we make our way to the concourse. We still have some time to kill before we leave, so we sit down. Ben pulls out his phone and starts dicking around with it. Jake taps my knee with the pastry and then hands it to me.

"Eat."

I scowl at him.

"When was the last time you ate?"

"Breakfast."

"It's past noon--eat."

Grumbling to myself I pull it out and nibble it.

After a while I can feel eyes on me. I raise my head to see a teenage girl put down her phone after snapping a picture of us. She's typing furiously on her phone, presumably posting the image she just took onto some sort of social media.

Great. I know my abrupt hiatus rose a lot of eyebrows, especially with the official reason being "exhaustion". Everyone knows that's just code for, "they're fucked up right now, guess what's wrong with them!". I'm sure that picture was going to be plastered everywhere with scathing articles about how I look, wearing a black hoodie and dark sunglasses. I mean, that's pretty much how I always look when I travel, but I know the media will take it out of context.

I scowl.

"Hey," Tristan says, putting his hand on my knee. "What's up?"

I look at him. "That girl is taking pictures of me."

He looks at her and I grab his arm, giving a forceful tug. "Don't look at her!"

"Why?"

"Because then she'll know I know."

"So?"

"I don't want to start a thing," I mumble, looking down at my half-eaten scone.

"She's a girl. Like, a kid."

I bounce my knee up and down. "You don't understand. One bad interaction and my career is out the window."

"It's not right of her to take pictures of you," he says gently. "Go talk to her."

"And say what, exactly?"

"I d'no."

For a minute I just stare at him. But he's right. So I get to my feet, put my food on my chair, and walk over to the girl. She's so engrossed with whatever she's typing she doesn't even notice I've walked up to her.

I pull off the hood and run my fingers through my hair quickly. I then slip my hands into the pockets of my over-sized hoodie. I'd take off my sunglasses, but I wouldn't be able to see then.

"Hi."

She looks up. Her eyes go huge. Her mouth opens and closes a few times. Then she looks around herself, bewildered. When she speaks it's a squeak. "Me?"

"Yeah you," I say with a chuckle.

She looks like she might faint. I hate that. I hate how everyone forgets I'm just another human being. I sit next to her. She gawks at me.

"You know who I am, right?"

All she can do is nod vigorously.

I smile. "Could I ask you something?"

She nods again.

"Did you take my picture?"

She pales. Now I'm really afraid this girl is going to faint. Then her mouth explodes.

"Ohmygod Orion, ImeanMr.Bauwens, Iamsosorry, Ishould'veasked it'sjustIwastooscaredto and--"

I laugh and hold up my hands. "Woah woah woah calm down. I'm not angry."

Her face scrunches up. "You're not?"

I laugh. "Look, how about this. Could we make a deal?"

All she can do is nod.

"The deal is, you delete those pics off your phone, and I'll sign anything you want. Hell, I'll even sign multiple things. Okay?"

She nods and I laugh. "Do you have anything to write with?"

She looks crestfallen.

"Hold on."

I walk back to my bag. Jake and Ben are looking at me.

"What're you doing?" Jake asks.

I flash him a smile. "Making some girl's day."

I walk back over with my sharpie and I hear her squeal quietly. She hands me her pink backpack, and I sign it. She takes off her shoe and I sign it. She holds out the front of her shirt and, laughing, I sign it.

"Anything else?"

She's staring down at my autograph on her shirt. "Oh my God I am never washing this again."

I laugh. After a moment I tap her shoulder. Once again she looks faint. I smile. "Your end of the bargain?"

"Oh! Right! Of course!" After a moment she shows me her phone. "Nothing."

Like I said, I'm sure she posted it online already. But even so, one less person having it the better.

"And I didn't put it up anywhere," she says as though reading my mind, her eyes wide. "Honest."

I cock my head to the side, truly surprised. Maybe humanity was making a comeback.

"Yo! Jake, Ben!"

They look at me and I wave them over. Shrugging, they make their way to us. The girl's eyes look like they're going to pop out.

"What're you doing?" she asks breathlessly.

"Guys," I say when they get to me. "This is..."

"Samantha," she squeaks. "Ohmygodohmygodohmygod."

"Jake," he says, shaking her hand.

"Ben," he says with a smile.

I can't tell if she's going to faint or spontaneously combust.

"Here, let's do a selfie with your phone."

"No way!"

"Yes way!" I say, imitating her by raising my voice a few octaves. Luckily she laughs.

"Here, I'll take it since I'm the tallest."

She quickly pulls up the camera and hands me her phone.

"Okay, everyone smoosh in and smile and say cheese. One, two, three--"

"Cheeeeeeese," we all say in unison and burst out laughing.

Overhead is the announcement that our flight is boarding.

"Well, that's us," I tell Samantha. She doesn't even look sad.

"Do you mind if I hug you, please?"

I laugh and open my arms. She squeals and throws herself against me. Jake and Ben hug us too.

"Guys?" Tristan asks off to the side.

"Yeah," I say and we stop hugging.

Samantha gives a wave to Tristan even though she doesn't know who he is. He awkwardly waves back.

"You are way nicer than I ever imagined you'd be," she tells me quickly.

I pull my hood back up and grin. "Yeah, I get that a lot."