Chapter 8 Hideo
HIDEO
“Are we doing presents this year?” Bertie asks as we sit down for dinner. I picked up some tacos at our favorite little hole-in-the-wall—fast, easy, and tasty.
“I hope not!” I answer, “I haven’t gotten anything for you.”
I feel an odd mixture of guilt and relief.
Maybe we should get back to all that holiday romance, looking for a silly holiday sweater to show off my sexy bear and holding hands while we drive through neighborhoods filled with lights.
We somehow found time for stuff like that back in those first few years after we met, but it seems like the holiday comes and goes so quickly now, and we’re both so busy.
“Oh, good,” Bertie says, looking relieved, so I try to stifle my guilt. “I can barely wrap my mind around finding stuff for the kids. Has your sister sent a list yet? I got one from mine.”
“I’ll bug her again. I can sort it out this weekend, if you don’t mind me choosing everything.” It will have to be this weekend, if we want the presents to get there in time.
“Please, that would be great. Sounds like a plan.”
“Speaking of plans, we need to sort out arrangements for our Christmas Eve potluck with the guys.”
“Thanks for reminding me. That’s on my to-do list,” Bertie says with enthusiasm. “I’ll coordinate with Carl and set it up.”
I can’t quite let the present thing go. The guilt is still gnawing, quietly insistent.
“Maybe we should buy ourselves a present?” I suggest. “Something for both of us?”
“We already buy everything we want,” Bertie says, and it’s completely true. “We don’t need anything for the house, apart from a new roof, we both have a closet full of clothes, and we just took that vacation. Let’s just skip presents and focus on the good stuff, like dinner with our friends.”
“Of course. That’s the easiest thing to do.” I’m determined to quash the guilt and let it drop. This is best.
Bertie gets a sly look, and says, “Just a thought: I could surprise you with that puppy you always wanted.”
“That would be wonderful,” I say, imagining it. A cute puppy in our huge backyard, greeting us when we get home every day…but no. “But don’t you dare. You know we don’t have time to give a pup the attention they deserve. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“I know, I know. That will be something to look forward to in retirement, whenever that comes.”
We both ponder wistfully on that, finishing the last few bites of our tacos and picturing a different life, a life with ample time for presents and pups.
“That reminds me,” Bertie says. “I’m worried about Orion. I haven’t seen him since that day we all met up in the bakery. I’m worried I spooked him somehow.”
“I’m sure there isn’t a problem,” I say, but I wonder. Orion was startled when he saw me, so maybe there is something up. But maybe not. He has a lot on his mind now, with our planning for the procedure. That must be throwing him off.
“You know, I don’t even know his last name,” Bertie says, shaking his head. “I have no idea how to reach him. He always just shows up, smiles, and takes off.”
“He is a quiet one,” I say, keeping it vague. Fortunately, I know exactly how to approach the problem without breaking Orion’s confidence. “Don’t worry, I have an appointment with him tomorrow. I’ll check in with him then and make sure he’s doing okay.”
“Thanks. I don’t want to pry into his personal business, but I’m worried, and I miss seeing him. Please let me know what he says. So, getting back to presents, I’m trying to figure out what to do for Camila and the rest of the bakers.”
“Holiday bonuses are always appreciated. That’s what we’re doing at the clinic, and we’ve never had any complaints.”
“I do that every year,” Bertie says.
“And the problem is…?”
“Well, you’re right. I’ve never had a complaint either. It just doesn’t seem very personal.”
“Get her a nice card and tuck it in there, or a poinsettia. That’s sure to put a smile on her face.”
“I’ve been worried about your sense of taste,” I say, looking closely with the magnifier.
Sure enough, just like they mentioned in the research article, there’s a narrow groove extending on the ventral side, but only near the tip.
That must be the site of taste sensation.
“I have some bad news. I don’t see any way we can retain it.
It’s mostly localized here at the tips of your tentacula. ”
“That’s what I expected, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” Orion says, distracted. “You can’t taste with your chin, after all. I’ll just make do with a normal sense of taste.”
He seems off today, on edge, not his normal stoic self, but he’s taking the bad news better than I would have expected.
If he goes through with the procedure, it’s going to be a major sacrifice, vastly narrowing his culinary world.
We need to talk about informed consent, so he doesn’t do anything rash, and my plan is still nagging at me.
Maybe Bertie and I can help him understand how much he has to lose, with the assistance of some holiday food. But how to do it?
“Excellent point, but it will be an adjustment for you. I’d like you to discuss this with our counselor before we proceed.”
“I’ve had enough counseling to last the rest of my life,” he snaps. “Counseling, therapy, the whole nine yards.”
This isn’t like him at all. There must be something else going on in his life…but is it my place to pry?
“Just the same, I’d be most comfortable performing this procedure if you have at least one session with our counselor. This is an irreversible decision that will impact your entire life, and…”
There’s a quick knock on the door and my new intern enters, carrying a stack of papers.
“I have the cost breakdowns for you and…” he says, and then stops in his tracks, staring at Orion and going sheet white.
Time moves in slow motion as I see him crumple, so I step over and catch him under his arms. The papers scatter in a noisy flurry in all directions.
I lower him gently to the floor, calling my assistant, “Janice! I could use some help.”
I shrug off my jacket and place it under his head. As I’m extending his legs, Orion pushes past me into the hall.
“Orion!” I call. “Wait up!”
Janice arrives, so I leave our new intern in her capable hands and dash after Orion.
I catch him in the lobby, waiting for the elevator and fumbling into his mask.
I take his arm and when he turns, there are tears in his eyes.
He looks so sad, like he’s lost all hope, and I can’t help it. I open my arms and say, “Come here.”
He doesn’t turn away, so I pull him into a firm hug, trying to feel as strong and steady as I can. He doesn’t hug me back, but I feel his mask rest against my head. It feels odd, trying to provide stability to this giant of a man, but I do my best.
After a moment, I release him and suggest, “Let’s go to my office. It’s private and we won’t be interrupted, and we can talk.”
He follows me, completely silent and visibly drooping, and I point him to a chair, closing the door. He looks completely broken, with the weight of the world on his shoulders. The unfortunate incident in my office obviously couldn’t have happened at a worse time.
“Can I get you a coffee or some water?”
“I’m fine,” he says. “I’d like to keep the mask on.”
This cuts straight to my heart. If he can’t trust me, who can he trust?
“I apologize for the interruption back there.”
He waves his hand, dismissing it, and that simple gesture speaks volumes. I can only guess how many times the same thing has happened before. He looks me straight in the eye and says, “So, when is the soonest we can do this? I’m dead tired of being a creepy Cthulhu freak.”
With that, I’m very worried. He’s not being rational, calling himself names, but he needs to be at a time like this. He’s not in the state of mind to be making life-altering decisions. I need to help.
“We can schedule it first thing in the new year, but Orion, talk to me. What is happening? You don’t seem yourself.”
“Nothing,” he says, then he thinks better of it, and says, “No, not nothing. A lot has been happening.”
“Tell me,” I offer. “Anything you’re comfortable sharing. I’m here.”
He looks at me, and I see the moment the trust returns to his eyes. He takes off his mask and fiddles with it, and says, “I could use some water, Doctor Genji.”
“If you’d like, we can leave the Doctor Genji behind. My name is Hideo.” I grab a bottle from the mini-fridge and hand it over, and coax, “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“My boyfriend just broke up with me, Hideo. Because of them.”
“I’m sorry, Orion.” This makes so much sense. The incident in the office was an additional trigger after a truly lousy day. We can work with this.
“A year, gone,” he says, and I let him talk. He needs to talk, and I want to listen. “And you know, I don’t blame him. He’s building a name for himself. I just learned that his acting is taking off, and I know it’s true. I’m holding him back.”
“I’m sure that isn’t the full story,” I say. “But please continue.”
“You know, it’s not really a surprise. The signs were there, but I didn’t let myself see them. It’s silly. It’s not like this is the first time. They all say my tentacles aren’t a problem, but they always are, in the end.”
He sits there, twisting and untwisting the mask in his hands, and I know there’s more. I let him get there.
“And do you know what’s even worse? I think I’ve ruined things with Albert. With your husband. He is your husband, right?”
“Yes, he is, and he’s the most wonderful man in the world.”
“I know he is. I think he’s the best friend I have. Him and Jake. My dog Jake.”
“I think he’d agree. I hope you know, my BertieBear has a serious crush on you.”
He stops and stares at me, his tentacles waving in little curls and arabesques. For just a moment, I let myself sit and admire. I don’t understand how he can’t see how remarkable he is.
“Hideo, tell me…did he see?” he asks in a hushed voice. “I don’t know what I’d do if…”
It comes to me in a flash—the perfect way to help him.
“Do you want him to see?” I ask.
This stops him in his tracks. It’s obviously something he never even considered, but he’s going to consider it now, if I have anything to say about it.
“Uh, I don’t know. I mean, well…”
“After twenty years, I think I know my BertieBear pretty well. I will bet you any amount of money: he will take one look at your tentacula, and then he’ll ask to touch them.”
“Um…”
“My Bertie is a dyed-in-the-wool pogonophile. If you don’t know…”
“Beard-lover,” Orion says quietly, tentacles suddenly becoming even more animated. I think I’ve intrigued him, and now I need to help him make the crucial first step.
“Exactly right. I can’t even imagine the amount of joy this would bring him. Would you like to do it?”
“But how? I don’t know. Maybe?” I can see it there in his eyes. Hope.
“We always make appetizers for Christmas Eve—the fancier the better. I think he’d go all out if he knew you were coming.
You know, he values you and your insightful sense of taste.
Some of our friends are going to join us in the evening—they’re total foodies and do amazing things with flavors—but you don’t have to stay for that.
You could drop by the house after lunch, and if it feels right, you can help us cook. ”
I’m determined. Bertie and I have the holidays to help him understand everything he has to lose.