Page 27 of I Can’t Even Think Straight

The Following Saturday: A Saucy First Date

“Don’t worry! It’s all vegan,”

I reassure Obi as he studies the menu

with a frown of concentration.

“When my mum first brought me here

and I saw names like chick’n and f’sh,

I thought it was real chicken and fish.”

“I know it’s vegan,” says Obi.

“I was looking for something

that isn’t a meat substitute.

I didn’t become vegan to eat fake meat.”

“We can go somewhere else if you’d like?”

“No, I’m sorry. It’s all right,” he says.

“I’m not really that hungry anyway.

I’ll just get some sweet potato fries.”

“You sure? The chick’n burger is decent,

especially with the buffalo sauce,

and the f’sh and chips are my favorite,

especially with the tartar sauce.”

“What I’m hearing is you rate the sauces

more than the food.” Obi laughs.

His laughter reassures me

he’s happy to be here with me.

“I guess I have a thing for sauces,”

I say, in a bizarre attempt to flirt.

“Oh yeah?” Obi takes the bait.

“What’s your favorite one?”

“My top three in no particular order are:

sweet chili, peri-peri, and mango chutney.”

Obi starts to laugh, then covers his mouth,

and I wonder if he’s conscious of his toothy smile.

“Did you just call mango chutney

a sauce?” Obi laughs again, and snorts this time.

I feel heat rise in my body

as I realize Obi is laughing at me, not with me.

“Yes,” I say uncertainly.

“But it’s literally called chutney,” says Obi.

“A sauce is something like ketchup or mayo.”

He points to them, between us on the restaurant table.

“Or sweet chili and peri-peri, like you said.

But a chutney is a chutney, like a salsa is a salsa,

and neither of those are sauces.”

I let out a long sigh.

This level of pedantry could kill any vibe.

Plus, I don’t think

what he’s saying is correct.

“Shit! I’m sorry,” says Obi.

“I’m being a dick, aren’t I?”

I make a pinching gesture

with my thumb and index finger

in front of my face.

“A little bit,” I say.

“I’m sorry,” Obi says again.

“Jenny tells me I can be

a bit of a dick sometimes.

I’m really sorry, Kai.

How about we just order now?”

“Okay,” I say nonchalantly.

“Sorry to bother you,” Obi begins

as he calls over the waiter.

The way Obi says sorry so often

kinda gives me the ick,

but I try my best to ignore it.

Matt tells me I get irritable

and angry when I’m hungry.

After the waiter takes our order,

Obi leans forward and says,

“So, tell me about you, Kai.”

His eyes search my face as he waits

with his elbows on the table between us

and his chin resting in the hammock

made by his long, interlaced fingers.

Obi looks more relaxed now,

which oddly puts me on edge.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Family? Heritage?

Favorite subjects at school?

Any hobbies other than bouldering?

Tell me anything.”

I relax into telling Obi

about Yiayia, Bapou, and Granny,

Cyprus and Jamaica,

English and drama,

reading, writing, and watching films.

Our food arrives,

and Obi tells me about his parents,

his big brother, who is also queer,

his grandparents in China and Nigeria,

music and French,

and his folk punk band, FRSH MNT T.

“We’re called Fresh Mint Tea,” says Obi,

“but it’s written all in capital letters

without the vowels.”

My turn to stifle a laugh.

“And pray tell,

what would your band be called?”

Obi asks me.

“Saucy Saucy Mango Chutney,” I reply,

proud of my callback.

“Nice one.” Obi smiles

and flashes those sexy canines again.

“I’m glad I asked you on this date,” I say,

“and didn’t wait for you to ask me.”

Obi laughs. “I’m glad, too.

You’re funny and forthright.”

He pauses. “And very cute.”

He pops a sweet potato fry into his mouth.

“Oh, to be a sweet potato fry,” I flirt again.

“Oh my! Kai, did you really say that?”

he mock-gasps, and grasps the pendant

like he’s clutching a string of pearls.

“I guess I did.” I laugh, proud of myself.

“Wow, you’re so bold.”

He rubs the pendant

between his thumb and index finger.

“Do you like it?” I ask.

“This pendant,” he replies,

“or your flirting?”

I shake my head and roll my eyes:

he knows what I mean.

“Yeah, I like it,” he says,

with his dog-toothed smile.

His foot finds mine under the table.

“I like you, Kai.

Me gustas mucho .”

Oh,Obi.

I feel a different kind

of heat rise in my body,

from my feet to my blushing face.

“ ?Muy bien! ” I say.

“I like you a lot, too.”

I feel so lucky.

I feel surer about Obi

than I ever did about Matt or Kwesi.

I could never have imagined this moment

happening with either of them.

I can barely believe it’s happening

with Obi right now.