The Perfect Boy

In the Presence of Osaka

"Don't let go of my hand," Osaka asked.  I was trying to release my hand from his grip.

It was a difficult night. He had spent the night over at my place. And I was having one of those nightmares. Usually my brother Andrew was the one who came and slept next to me whenever I happened to dream these dreams.

My parents were never at home. Of 30 days in a month, they were around only for at most 5 days and never more. There were months when they were never even home.  They were not abusive parents or anything, but they were not good either to their children. Andrew and I took care of each other. Andrew had had his share of struggles and up-hill battles just like I did and I was there for him. So, sometimes he became my dad for me and sometimes, I became his mom.

But now, I was sweating profusely and clasping the hand of Osaka. I didn't want him to know about the dreams. He didn't have to know about the bullies.   Osaka didn't have to know who they were and their names. I didn't want him to know about the times when they took me to the alley behind school when they tied why hands and legs around the street lamp pole and beat me almost to death, brought me to the janitor's closet next to the gym when they stripped me naked until I was found the next morning by none other than Mr. Brown, the janitor. There were too many cruel treatments.  I tried to forget, but times like this were a wake-up call and reminded me of how tragic my life really was.

I didn't want to complicate my friendship with Osaka and bring him into the gutter with me. I wasn't ready to hand to him a helpless me.

"What is it?" he whispered. I stayed quiet.

"You don't want to tell me?" I shrugged.

"You know whenever you are ready to tell me?" He hugged and placed my head on his broad should and he cried. Yes, he did. I didn't. I already promised myself that I would never again shed any tear. I didn't tell him anything that night, he didn't ask any more. We just stayed quietly hugging each other with moonbeam shining on our faces. I felt comfort, I felt safe, I felt secured. I felt like I was in sanctuary of impenetrable fortress being embraced by a towering figure. I didn't know how long we stayed that way, the last thing I remembered was drops of tear wetting my temple.

And from that night on it was Osaka who stood in proxy for me to let out the tears I was so afraid to shed, the ones that had been building up within me.

Little by little, I was letting Osaka into the most private parts in my heart. I was starting to show him the real me, not the fake me - the boy who showed nothing but perfection on his facade. I worried. I got anxious. I had to deal with my panic attacks. I lied to cover my imperfection.  I was nothing but a very self conscious person who would tolerate being blamed for anything even if it was his fault.  Amidst my being the top person in high school and around town for that matter, I was revealing to Osaka my deficiency and frailty.  Yes, I was a member of National Honor Society, Who's Eho Among American High School Students.  I was on the Dean's List for who k ew how long.  I was known as the perfect boy.  But, actually I was far from being perfect.    All the skeletons in my closet came out one by one to be exposed fully in the presence of Osama.  I so wanted to let them skeletons stayed in, but Osaka had his magical ways of letting me by my own free will to stand naked before him.