Page 4 of I Can’t Even Think Straight

Ready or Not?—After School—Granny’s Kitchen

My sixteen-year-old cousin T

breathes deeplyopposite me

at the kitchen table.

Silence has descended on

our previously heated conversation.

The heavy smell of curried goat

has fully settled into my clothes.

The still-hot pots sit on the stove

waiting for Granny to plate up

when she returns from picking up

Olivia and Sophia, my five-year-old

identical twin cousins, from school,

as she does every weekday.

T stands and towers over me.

He can only achieve this because I stay seated.

We’re the same height standing up,

but, right now, I feel stuck to my seat.

T has been bubbling and spilling over

for the past twenty minutes,

but now he’s softly simmering.

T’s deep voice is softer than before:

“What I don’t understand, cuz,

is why Jyoti said it so casually,

like it was common knowledge,

like she assumed I already knew.”

T imitates the voice of Jyoti,

a gossipy girl in my year

who T’s been dating since summer:

“‘Kai and Matt must miss each other,

being apart all summer.

They’re so cute together.’”

T sucks his teeth.

He returns to his own voice:

“What does Jyoti have to gain

by saying you’re being ‘cute’ with a next man?”

I wanna tell T:

Jyoti’s speculation might come from the fact

that she used to fancy Matt.

I wanna get T off my back,

but I don’t want him to feel bad about himself

thinking he’s only Jyoti’s second choice.

If T had simply asked if I was gay,

I’m pretty sure I would’ve said yes,

but because this involves Matt,

it feels more complicated than that,

more complicated than it should.

I’m angry at Jyoti for gossiping,

but that’s kinda her whole thing.

I’m angrier at Matt

for putting me in a position

where I feel forced to lie to my cousin.

T is a year older than me

and we’re at different schools.

T is often suspended from his.

“Well, for the millionth time,

I’m telling you Jyoti’s lying.

So, who you gonna believe,

your cousin or some girl you met in the park

and you’ve only known for six weeks?

I’ve been at school with Jyoti for years,

and all she does is chat nonsense.”

I feel bad for calling Jyoti “some girl”

because it sounds kinda dismissive,

but I’m trying to speak T’s language.

T closes his eyes, tilts his head back,

and pinches the bridge of his nose.

T breathes in deeply and out again.

T does this when he’s about to punch someone:

sometimes justifiably,

sometimes just for fun.

I refuse to believe T would punch me.

The Devil himself couldn’t convince me

T doesn’t love me.

T would love me no matter what.

When T looks at me again, he’s smiling.

“Fine, cuz. If you say Jyoti’s lying, she’s lying.”

I look for malice in his smile,

I listen for another meaning in what he’s saying,

but I see and hear only love:

love that defies logic, the love of family.

I knew he would choose to believe me over Jyoti.

I hear Granny’s keys in the front door,

the sound of Olivia and Sophia

bounding over the threshold,

the Velcro of their school shoes,

the patter of their frilly-socked feet

running toward the kitchen.

Their afro puffs zoom into the room.

“Tee! Tee! Tee!” they chant in unison.

They see T first,

as my dining chair is behind

the open kitchen door.

T scoops them up into a hug,

but they wriggle to get free of T

as soon as they see me.

“Kai!” “I want Kai!” “Put me down!”

In seconds, they’re wrapped around my legs.

I bend to pick them up:

“Hello there, my favorite girls

in the whole wide universe.”

“It’s world, not universe,” they say on cue.

“Universe. Multiverse.

You are in every verse,” I reply.

My special greeting for The Twins.

I kiss them each on their cheeks,

and I’m tickled by their giggles.

They kiss me back, one on each cheek.

“What game shall we play today?”

I ask as I put them down.

“Hide-and-seek!” they happy-shriek.

I cover my eyes with my hands,

and start to count:

“One...

two...

three...”

The giggling twins run into the hallway.

“Four...”

“Mind you nah knock me over,”

says Granny as Olivia and Sophia scurry past her.

“Sorry, Granny,” they say as they scramble up the stairs.

“Five...

six...

seven...”

“Come now, Malachi, let me see you.”

Granny enters the kitchen, laughing.

I uncover my eyes and cease counting.

Granny’s smile turns to a frown.

“You get so dark on holiday,” she says.

T laughs because we go through this every year

when I return from Cyprus.

T mouths the words behind Granny’s back,

imitating her gestures and mannerisms.

“You nah wear sunblock, child?” Granny asks.

“You know you half white, you can still burn.

And you aff to be careful about skin cancer.

Anyone can get it. You see?” Granny points

to a scar on her nose and behind her T copies.

“The doctor removed my mole at the hospital.”

I fail to suppress my laughter,

but I’m not laughing at Granny:

I’m laughing at T’s impression of her.

“Kai!” “Kai!”

I hear The Twins call from upstairs.

“Come find us!”

“Come find us!”

Blessed salvation

from my two little angels.

Granny kisses her teeth, then says:

“And tek out your cane rows after dinner.”

Granny turns and talks to her pots:

“I can’t believe im mother let im

go to school wid im hair like dat.”

T points and laughs at me.

My cheeks burn

with angry embarrassment.

I don’t like when

Granny bad-mouths Mum.

But Granny’s not wrong.

Mum knows how to do my hair,

but she never makes the time.

Mum relies on Granny to do it.

Mum said there was no point

of her doing it in Cyprus

because I was at the beach

with Vass every day.

And when we got back home,

Mum went back to work

and seemed to forget

I needed my hair redone

to go back to school.

“Kai!” “Kai!” The Twins call again.

“Eight, nine, ten!

Ready or not, here I come!”

I kiss Granny as I pass her,

I pat T on his shoulder,

and run to find The Twins.

Granny hollers after me:

“When you find dem,

mek dem wash dem hands,

and bring dem come eat.”

“Yes, Granny,” I reply, already

mounting the stairs.

“And, Malachi,” Granny hollers again.

I pause on the stairs.

“Yes, Granny?” A question this time.

No answer.

“Yes, Granny?” I call my question again.

Still no answer.

I make my way back down the stairs

and round the open kitchen door.

“Yes, Granny?” I say for a third time.

When she smiles, I catch a flash of her gold tooth.

“Welcome back, baby.”

She opens her arms wide to invite me into a hug.