Page 57

‘It’s OK.’ Again, pulling at the dwindling reserves of grace, because how would I know how I would be in his shoes? When my mum was sick, I damn near lost every ounce of my mind.

Malakai shook his head, reaching across to tip my chin up, and I saw a glimpse of my Malakai, my Kai, seeping back into his face, recognisable, soft. ‘No. It’s not. You’ve been by my side the whole time. Took days off work, checked on my mum and Muyiwa. I couldn’t have got through these months without you.’ I don’t know how much I can believe this when it’s like he’s trying to do everything but spend time with me.

‘But,’ he said, releasing my hand and a breath through his nose, ‘I just. . .I need to deal with it my way, OK? And my dad wants me to work hard. Climb ranks. He’s always said that if I was going to do this, I have to be successful at it. And that’s what I’m trying to do. This is how I keep his legacy. Making something of myself. And that involves extra-curricular shit. It means networking.’

I nod tightly, restricting movement, trying to minimise the amount of emotion the action might free up, expose. ‘I get it.’ I tucked in my hurt, my doubt, because what could I say to a man who thought he was doing everything he could to make his dad proud?

Malakai tilted his head to the side, his eyes scanning me. ‘You look gorgeous, baby. Who you looking all bad for?’ A thrill skipped through me, despite myself, warming me.

‘Well, me and the waiter became well acquainted in your absence. And you seen him? It’s very Paris Fashion Week.’

‘Oh yeah. Handsome as hell.’ Malakai laughed, the light returning to his eyes. I wanted to wrap myself in it, slather it on my skin, let it sink in. I’d missed it so much.

‘Exactly. This is all for Adama. He’s Senegalese by the way.’

‘Yeah? Love to my Francophone brothers.’

‘He’s doing an MSc in Psychology too. Training to be atherapist.’

I briefly wondered if I should take the opportunity to bring up grief therapy to Malakai again– he claimed he hadn’t been ready before – but I bit my tongue in order to preserve the moment.

It seemed like the right decision, because Malakai raised his glass, and looked me in the eye with a glimmer of his play back. ‘Well, congrats to him and congrats to me. Tell Adama I’m the only one who’s gonna ask you how anything feels tonight.’

I let our patter massage my nerves, smooth out their frays. I had nothing to worry about. We were good. We were so good.

Now

Malakai is pacing on the pavement in front of the locked-up South London bar, on his phone, hand running across the back of his head. His words are low, fast and furious and he keeps pausing to turn to the team to assure us that he’s ‘sorting it’. Something tells me that he isn’t. Something feels off. His demeanour is jittery, skittish and Malakai is never disorganised when it comes to work. He may have been an inconsistent boyfriend towards the end, but he never played about his job. For the first time since working together, Taré looks vaguely annoyed, surfacing from her creative haze to come out of the sleek black van that carries our DOP, set designer and production assistant. They’d piled back into the van after it turned out that the venue we were supposed to be checking out has chains across its doors.

‘Is everything OK? I really need to get back, so if we can just wrap this up quickly—’ Taré is in huge sunglasses and workout gear, dressed for a quick survey of a potential video space and a return to the studio.

I turn to her from where I’ve been watching Malakai attempt to hide his panic, and paint on a smile. ‘Everything’s fine!’ I say with absolutely zero certainty. ‘Just a little mix-up! Why don’t you chill in the van– it’s cold! I’ll tell you and the team when to come out!’ I am vaguely aware that my voice sounds preternaturally cheery and a little deranged.

Taré nods, hesitant, before deciding to trust me, turning back to the sleek, tinted van. As soon as I hear the slam of the door, I casually approach Malakai and speak through gritted teeth. ‘OK, what the hell is going on? Don’t lie to me.’

Malakai is still on the phone, pacing, and he walks a little further away, into the narrow alley beside the building as he speaks. ‘I think I know what day and time I booked this for–why would you play with me like this?... This is my job, man. Can you come and open it now?... Is this really how you’re gonna do me?... Yeah. Calm. Cheers for fucking nothing.’ Malakai hangs up the phone and tosses it onto the ground, putting both hands to his head, still pacing, eyes red. My skin pricks with panic–something feels desperately wrong. This isn’t him. None of this is him. This is different fromflakiness.I pick up the phone–thankfully not smashed–and approach him, reaching out for his arm.

‘Malakai.’ He isn’t looking at me, his jaw tense as he stares into space. ‘Kai.Look at me.’ He does now, eyes bleary, confusingly, heartbreakingly bleary. This can’t just be about the job. ‘What is happening? What’s wrong?’

He shakes his head. ‘I fucked up, Scotch. I’ve messed up the times and now the bar isn’t available for when we wanna shoot. We’re running out of options.Shit,man. How did I do this?’ He looks furious with himself; I’ve never seen him so furious. My blood feels heavy in my veins, concern coursing through me.

‘Hey–Kai– it’s fine. Calm down—’

Malakai’s voice comes out in frantic rasps, eyes shiny as he stares beyond my head. ‘Nah, Keeks, you don’t get it. I’m supposed to be good at this–this is what I’m supposed to do. Everything’s supposed to be right today. It’s supposed to beright. Everyone’s relying on me for it to be right—’

His breathing has increased rapidly, and alarm sparks through me as I gently pull his hands from his head. ‘All right, listen to me.Lookat me.’ He does, with hesitation, and what I see lances through me. I’ve seen the look before. It’s this alone that makes me reach up and hold his jaw. I slide his phone into my hoodie pocket, and place my other hand on his chest. ‘Breathe with me, Kai. Can you do that?’ He nods, numbly, and I nod with him, shooting him a reassuring smile, whispering, ‘Thank you. OK.’ I inhale and exhale deeply, and Malakai mirrors my actions, gaze clinging to me in the blur. ‘Good. You’re fine. You’re fine, OK? We are a team. I get that this feels like a lot, but I’m right here with you. We will sort this out together. I got you. OK? I got you, Kai.’ Malakai’s breathing slows and his eyes clarify, homing in on me as if he’s just come out of a trance. I drop my hands from his body and he stares at me nakedly.

‘Please don’t tell anyone.’

I swallow, trying to keep inexplicable tears from springing into my eyes. ‘I-I won’t.’ I don’t even know what I’m not supposed to tell anyone. ‘Of course I won’t. How are you feeling?’

He nods awkwardly. ‘Better.’

‘OK. So we probably have to come out now. If you want to go home, I can cover for you.’

Malakai shakes his head. ‘Nah. I’m good now. I’m good—’

‘Malakai, it’s OK if you’re not. What happened—’