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Page 47 of I Can’t Even Think Straight

Sunday: More Than Friends—Mum’s Market Stall

“You’re making it sound so weird,”

I whisper to Matt, covering my face

and feeling my flushed cheeks.

“That’s because it is weird,” Matt whispers back.

“You were locking lips with Obi upstairs,

with a satanic ritual going on downstairs.”

“Maybe, but you don’t have to say it like that,”

I protest through gritted teeth.

Matt’s wearing his church clothes.

If Mum gets back with our breakfast baps

before Matt has to go, I know she’ll go on

about how handsome Matt looks.

Matt grips the lapels of his blazer.

He stands upright and looks down at me.

All of a sudden, he looks like a Big Man,

and I know what he’s about to do.

He’s about to become Pastor Matthew.

“What shall become of you,

Malachi Michaelides?”

I crease over with laughter

and when I recover, I look up at Matt.

“Is that you, Pastor Matthew?”

“Yes, my son,

and I want you

to fully comprehend

the magnitude

of your situation

and assess

your life choices,” he says.

“I just can’t with Pastor Matthew today,”

I say, covering my eyes with my hands.

“You know I’m joking,

don’t you?” says Matt.

“I’m happy for you, my little devil.”

“Of course I know you’re joking,”

I say, uncovering my eyes

and facing Matt’s handsomeness.

There’s a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“I’ve thought of a story idea for you.

Wanna hear it?”

“Go on,” I say, giving a green light

to whatever foolishness

is about to come out

of Matt’s magnificent mouth.

I’m excited. I’m turned on

by Matt’s playful energy right now.

I feel like kissing Obi

has awoken something in me.

We did a little more than kiss.

We got a little handsy.

I felt Obi’s swimmer’s physique:

rock-hard six-pack abs

under his Sex Pistols band T-shirt.

I can imagine kissing Matt.

His bulging boxer’s biceps

holding me ever so tightly.

“Here’s my idea,” Matt says.

“Obi targeted you to bring you to The Coven

because they needed a virgin

for their demonic satanic pagan virgin blood ritual.”

“Did you practice saying that?” I ask.

“Yes, I did.” Matt smiles and nods.

“Demonic, satanic, and pagan

are three different things.” I laugh.

“You’d know, wouldn’t you?”

Matt tilts his head and tuts three times.

The morning sun makes a marvel

of Matt’s jawline.

I feel a lump in my throat.

I cough it clear.

“Let’s go back to your story idea.

Since I’m still a virgin,

this could go one of two ways

when I see them again:

The Coven could sacrifice me

in a ‘demonic satanic pagan virgin blood ritual,’

just like you said,

or I could lose my virginity to Obi,

join The Coven,

and bring them a replacement virgin.”

I point at Matt and tilt my head,

because I know he is.

Matt coughs and turns into

Pastor Matthew again:

“Or you could accept

Jesus

as your Lord and savior and

rebuke

those pagan demons!”

I crease over with laughter again.

“Oh my God, Matt! Look at you!”

Mum shrieks as she hands me

two white paper bags:

our vegan sausage baps.

She throws her arms up

and around Matt.

“Hello, Auntie, how are you?”

Matt says, bent into a hug with Mum.

“I’m great!” says Mum. “How are you?”

She releases Matt and takes a step back.

“I’m good, Auntie.”

Matt smiles goofily,

on best behavior.

“I just came by to say hi to Kai

on my way to church.”

Matt’s Church Boy act is impeccable.

Mum looks up at Matt dreamily

before she turns to me.

“Isn’t Matt so sweet?

Doesn’t he look so handsome

and muscular in his suit?”

Matt looks embarrassed,

effervescently,

like he loves and hates this

in equal measure.

“Absolutely dreamy!”

I agree with Mum.

I pile on the compliments:

“Stunning! Gorgeous!

Tens across the board!”

“I’d better get going,”

Matt says, laughing.

“I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Okay,” I say, realizing

I feel a little flushed.

“It’s nice to see you, Auntie.”

Matt waves at Mum.

“It’s nice to see you, too.”

Mum waves back at Matt.

As Matt turns away, I notice

the curve of his buttocks

and the outline of the afro comb

in his back right pocket.

As we watch Matt walk away,

I hand Mum the white paper bag

with her breakfast bap inside.

Both of our bags crinkle with every bite

as we begin to munch on their contents.

Mum nudges me gently with her elbow

and speaks with a muffled mouthful.

“Didn’t you go with Matt and Vass

to Obi’s party last night?” she asks.

“Yes,” I say, my mouth full, too.

I chew and clear my throat again. “Why?”

“You see Matt every weekday at school.

You go bouldering together on Saturdays.

You went to a party together last night.

He’s popped by to see you this morning.

And he’s gonna text you later...” Mum waits.

While Mum’s logic is flawless,

she’s stacking a house of cards

I have long since given up on.

“What are you saying, Mum?”

“I guess I was wondering

if you and Matt were

more than friends?”

“Of course

Matt and I are

more than friends.”

My answer is intentionally mischievous.

Mum turns toward me

with wide-eyed wonder.

“Matt and I are

the best of friends.”

“So, you’re not...?” She stops there.

“No, Mum.” I chuckle.

“I thought you’d already guessed.

I’m seeing Obi,” I say.

Mum is jolted by this.

“Oh,

Obi.

Of course, you’re seeing Obi.”

Mum processes this news,

and the trick I played on her

with my surprise turn.

I take a satisfied bite

of my breakfast bap.

“I couldn’t tell if Obi was gay,”

Mum says casually,

“because he’s just so posh.”

I splutter and spray the ground

with bits of bread and vegan sausage.

“Mum! I can’t believe you said that!”

“We’re still allowed to call posh people

‘posh,’ aren’t we?” Mum asks in earnest.

I shrug, teasing Mum again.

“Come off it, Kai.

You know what I mean...?”

I know what she means,

but I shrug once again.

Now Mum can’t tell

if I’m joking or not.

“Obi seems lovely.”

Mum places a hand on my arm.

“But we’ve known Matt for longer.

So, I’ve had longer to wonder

about you and Matt.

But no, it’s not you and Matt.

It’s you and Obi.”

Mum squeezes my arm gently.

“And you’re happy?”

“Yes, I’m happy!” I smile and nod.

Mum pulls me into a tight squeeze.

“Well, if you’re happy,

I’m happy,” she says.

I hear a crinkling by my ear,

as Mum takes another bite

of her breakfast bap

over my shoulder.

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