Homecoming

Chapter 10: New York, New York

Three days passed since Brad, and I landed in New York. We did nothing but stay inside my loft and talk. Many talks resulted in midnight strolls to random spots in the city or sometimes just heartfelt conversations on my couch in between takeout food. I got to give it to Brad. He always had something to say about anything.

This evening, I had plans I never mentioned to Brad. I was on my way down the flight of stairs when he stood at the end of it. He immediately asked where I was going as if it offended him that I made plans without telling him. Brad crossed his arms and had a stern look on his face.

"Are you sure you're okay to go out?" Brad asked. "I know that we haven't done much for the last three days, but we can watch reruns of that sitcom you like."

We did so much, to be honest. A lot of conversations, and I thought that for tonight, I needed to talk to someone else. I paced my way through the loft, and Brad followed me, his footsteps loud enough even if he was barefoot. I slipped on my boots, and Brad continued with his tangent.

"We can even order pizza from that vegan place down the street!"

"You don't even like that kind of pizza," I rebutted, standing up and stomping on my boots for good measure. "Relax, I'll be fine. I'll be meeting with a few friends, and I'll be home in an hour or two."

Brad still followed me as I made my way to the door, stopping to get my jacket that hung from the metal coat rack. Brad had gotten silent. His features softened in contrast to how he looked like minutes ago.

"What?" I asked, my arms finding their way inside my jacket sleeves. I brushed off the imaginary dirt from on the fabric and wrapped a plaid cotton scarf around my neck. Being a California native, I still haven't gotten used to the cold New York weather.

Brad zeroed in on my bruised nose and the cut on my lower lip.

"Just take care, okay?"

"I will. Now go back to that phone call you're having with Erin. I don't want to give her more reason to have my head on a spike," I said, making a shooing motion with my hands. Brad followed as he was instructed right after hugging me.

The venue was a few blocks away from my place, and the weather was nice enough to take a stroll. New York air in November has always been cool enough. The crowded urban streets at this time of night gave me a rush of excitement. The uneasiness that I got from LA was gone now. Being in New York felt safer here somehow, even if that meant being alone. Even if I was lonely.

I entered the contemporary activity hall just when a person finished talking. The simultaneous soft claps echoed across the room. I mentally cursed myself. I've never been late to these things, but this was the first time I've shown up since I went back to LA. I took a seat on the third row, camouflaging myself from everyone, and buried my nose in my scarf.

"Thank you, Cindy, for sharing your wonderful journey with us," said Zachary.

I've known Zachary for almost three years now. He looked like he lost a bit of weight now. He didn't look as pudgy—way to go, Zachary. I texted him when I got back to New York and told him that I was coming to support group tonight.

He immediately recognized me from the small crowd and invited me to share.

"I see Aki is here," Zachary's eyes lit up, and his voice colored with enthusiasm. "Why don't you come up here and share? It's been a while." He gestured for me to come up the stage. All of the people tilted their heads towards me.

The last time I've been to one of these support group meetings was roughly a couple of months ago. But before that, I tried to go every week, and as I familiarized myself with the process of recovering. My therapist told me that it was ideal to surround myself with people on the same journey. At first, I thought it was a joke. Who would want someone to remind them of the bad things in their life? But then I discovered that a sense of commonality with someone was grounding.