Page 54 of I Can’t Even Think Straight

Two Months Later: It’s a Wrap—Nighttime—My Bedroom

“It’s so hard!” I say to Matt

as I unravel the long red strip of fabric

and free my hand from the wrap,

which coils like a snake on my lap.

“Come on, Kai. You can do it.”

“I can if you help me,” I say

as I bat my eyelashes at my boyfriend.

“Let’s watch the video again,”

Matt says with the patience of a referee.

He smiles and pats my knee.

I feel a surge of electricity

through my body,

like when I fell from the bouldering wall

onto the crash mat.

The difference being that I fall for this Matt

dozens of times every day,

with every touch and look and word he says.

Matt’s shifting weight rocks my mattress

as he leans in

to show me the hand-wrapping video on his phone,

for what feels like the millionth time.

“Why can’t you wrap my hands forever?” I sulk.

“It was so romantic when you did it last week.

Even Kojo said so.”

“Don’t you think he’s trying

too hard to show us

he’s not homophobic?” Matt asks.

“He always has something

nice to say these days.”

“Well, he has no choice

if he wants to be one of The Boys.

Now we’re both out

and the rest of them

have made it clear where they stand:

Kojo can either be our ally

or our lonely enemy.

Our gay agenda is well underway.

Mwahahaha!” I evil-villain laugh.

Matt laughs obligingly at me being silly,

the way boyfriends kinda know they have to.

“If it were up to me,” Matt says suggestively,

“I’d do it for you forever, but it’s not up to me.

TJ said you have to wrap your own hands.”

“You just wanna impress TJ,” I tease.

“I’ve never seen you so keen to impress

any other adult the way you try so hard

to impress that man.” I roll my eyes playfully.

“Remember, I’ve seen you on best behavior

around my mum, your parents, and at church,

but with TJ it’s on a whole other level.”

“I respect him, that’s all,” Matt says coyly.

“Respect? Is that what we’re calling it?” I joke.

“Yes! Because that’s all it is!” Matt insists.

“I don’t get jealous of The Author’s after-school workshops.

I don’t get jealous that you let Vass look at your notebook.”

Vass is the best friend

I could ever wish for.

Matt is the boyfriend

I’ve always dreamed of.

“You sound a little bit jealous,” I joke.

I make a pinching gesture

with my thumb and index finger

in front of my face.

Obi’s face flashes in my memory.

I need to leave Obi in the past.

“I’m not jealous.” Matt laughs nervously.

I force myself into the present

and then beyond into the future.

“You can read something at the end of term,” I say.

“The Author’s helping us make our own anthology.

Everyone from the workshops

has to put in at least one piece.

The Author’s our editor and Jyoti’s his assistant.

It’s gonna be a proper book with an ISBN.

It’s gonna be cataloged in the British Library.”

“Swear down?!” Matt exclaims

in unexpected recognition.

“The big red building

between King’s Cross and Euston?

Statue of Isaac Newton out front?”

“I’m not sure,” I admit.

“I’ve not been there before.

Have you been there?”

“Yeah!” Matt beams at me.

“I went with my parents to an exhibition

about Malorie Blackman.”

I feel a pang of jealousy

that Matt did this without me.

That Matt went with his parents.

That Mum didn’t make time

to take me when I asked.

I don’t understand why Matt

hasn’t mentioned it until now.

Matt knows

I love Malorie’s books,

especially Noughts & Crosses .

I’m not cross with Matt.

If anything, I’m impressed

he took an interest

in an author I love.

Is that what happened?

Or did his parents force him to go?

Before I have a chance to ask him,

Matt says: “I’m proud of you, Kai.

You’re gonna be an author

and one day you’ll have published

over seventy books like Malorie Blackman

and there’ll be an exhibition all about you.”

“Yeah, one day,” I say hopefully.

I imagine seventy books.

My name on their spines.

I imagine an exhibition.

My sky-blue notebook.

Books that inspire me.

Skellig by David Almond.

Noughts & Crosses by Malorie.

What a goal to aim for.

What a future to hope for.

I feel tearful, in the best possible way.

Matt sees a bright future ahead of me.

All of a sudden,

I’m in the past again

with no control

of my overthinking.

“What’s wrong, Kai?”

“Obi definitely stopped

coming to youth squad

because of me.” I sigh.

“He must really hate me!”

I say melodramatically,

with the back of my hand

lifted to my forehead,

to play it off as a joke,

even though

I’m deadass.

I’m serious.

I’m that boy: Malachi,

the overthinker,

who can’t think straight

under pressure

and has a problem with anger.

“How could anyone hate you?”

Matt takes my hand down

and gives it a gentle squeeze.

“Spider Girl said Obi’s brother

moved their band practice

from Sunday to Saturday.

Why won’t you believe that?”

“Because it’s obviously not true.

I just thought we could all

stay friends,” I say weakly.

“Obi replies when I text him,

but he never texts me first.

It’s not that I feel sorry for him,

but when I remember

certain things he told me,

he seemed like

he needed more friends.”

“You were never friends

with Obi to begin with,” Matt says.

“I don’t see any problem

with Obi’s behavior at the moment.

You’re begging it with him now

because you feel bad for how it ended.

Obi doesn’t wanna be friends

with you, or with any of us.”

“That’s a bit harsh,” I reply.

Matt puts a hand on my knee.

“You can disagree with me,

but here’s how I see it:

Obi only invited me and Vass

to his house to be polite,

and to get us on side,

but ultimately to get you

into his bedroom.

I don’t know, Kai.

At least Obi didn’t ghost you

after you told him

you didn’t wanna keep seeing him.

He still replies to your texts.

Give him a break.

Maybe you’ll be friends one day.

But maybe right now he’s upset.

Maybe he’s too polite to ask you

to leave him alone.”

As I let Matt’s words sink in,

I find I don’t disagree with him.

I try to imagine a mirror world,

with double dates and band lyrics,

where I’m boyfriends with Obi,

and still best friends with Matt.

Would Matt be giving me advice

about my relationship with Obi?

Now that I’m boyfriends with Matt,

there’s no other world

or universe that matters to me.

I know I have to let Obi go.

I know I have a future with Matt

and no future with Obi.

“You’re so insightful,” I tell him.

Followed by, “And beautiful.”

Followed by, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Matt says.

“And I love your mum

for letting me sleep over so often.”

“She seems to think

you’re a good influence on me,” I say.

“Whatever could’ve given her that idea?”

I ask sarcastically, hinting

at Matt’s Church Boy act around Mum.

I don’t think Matt gets that I’m joking.

He gives serious thought

to my rhetorical question.

“Your mum’s cool, you know.”

Matt says this as if cool means something else.

As if cool means hope for his future.

As if cool means a possibility of his family

accepting him the way my mum has.

As if cool means permission to be his full self.

“Yes, I guess she is kinda cool,” I admit.

“Although I asked her to take me

to that exhibition at the British Library

but she wouldn’t take a day off work.”

“Kai, do you know why you get so angry

about not spending more time with your mum?”

Matt asks, before answering his own question:

“It’s because you actually enjoy her company.

I hate spending time with my parents.

I can’t be my real self around them.

Even at that exhibition they were so strict

about the way I had to look at it.

They forced me to look at every case,

read every caption, and watch every video in order.

When I just wanted to move freely around the space

and look at whatever took my interest.

I know that sounds like a minor thing

but when you deep it,

everything’s like that with my parents.

They make things that could be fun feel like a chore.

I remember thinking, ‘I wish I was here with Kai.’

But I didn’t want you to have to suffer my parents.

I thought of suggesting the two of us went together

but my parents ask so many questions

when I wanna go into central London without them.”

Matt stops and smirks at me.

“Maybe they worry I’ll go to Soho

now I look old enough to get into a bar.

A part of me thinks

my parents already know I’m gay,

but I’m not gonna confirm it to them unless

they ask me or I’ve moved out for uni,

whichever comes first.

But being out to your mum,

Vass, The Boys, Jyoti, and T,

I feel, I don’t know, a glimmer

of what it might feel like in the future

to be fully out to everyone.

Do you get what I’m saying, Kai?

Your mum is like a ray of light—in my life, at least.”

“I get you,” I say, and I do.

What Theía Estélla is to me

is what my mum is to Matt.

I try to explain this to him:

“I think we look elsewhere

for what our parents can’t give us.

Vass’s mum is that ray of light for me.

That’s one of the things I’ve been discussing

with the school counselor:

how it takes a village to raise a child.

I guess my mum’s part of your village now.”

Matt’s eyes go glassy,

he looks tearful,

but he doesn’t let his tears flow.

He sniffs

and shakes his head,

and when he replies it’s not what I expect.

“Who gives the best advice,” he asks,

“me or the school counselor?”

“You,” I say,

and it’s true.

I grin at him.

“You give the best everything.”

Matt smiles back at me:

I’m confident

he catches my meaning.

We’re not virgins anymore.

With one end in each hand,

I grasp the long red strip of fabric and toss it,

making a loop around

his broad back and shoulders.

My arms complete the loop.

With one end in each hand,

I use the fabric to pull Matt toward me.

We’re nose to nose,

almost kissing, like

boxers at a weigh-in.

Matt leans back and the loop becomes taut.

“You’re not getting

another kiss from me

until you can wrap

your hands properly.”

I release my grip

on both ends of the fabric,

and expect Matt to fall

backward onto the bed.

“Nice try, Malachi!”

He holds a mid-sit-up position

with such confidence and ease.

I shake my head and roll my eyes.

“Stop showing off!”

“You love it!” Matt flexes his biceps,

still holding himself in a mid-sit-up.

I rest my hands on his chest

and gently push him backward.

Matt wraps his arms around me

in a full and strong embrace.

I let myself fall forward

as he falls back onto my bed.

I rest on top of Matt

like I’m the Sphinx,

and he is my limestone bedrock.

He lies there in surrender to me,

a cat that’s caught his prey.

Matt smiles as he looks up.

“What are you thinking, my little devil?”

“Wanna have sex?”

I ask him, half joking, half hoping.

I’m rocked by the vibration of

his howling laughter,

an earthquake of joy.

“No more procrastination...” He toys with me.

Without breaking eye contact,

Matt retrieves the long red strip of fabric

from behind his back and hands it to me.

He knows how to handle me.

“It’s your turn to be on

best behavior,” he says.

I bite my lip, turned on

by his firm tone.

Matt slowly shakes his head

and changes character.

“Malachi Michaelides,” Pastor Matthew begins,

“it’s my mission to teach you

self-control and discipline.

No sex, not even one kiss,

until you’ve mastered this.”

It’s cute how Matt thinks he’s in charge

when I have him where

I’ve always wanted him.

When Matt acts like a Big Man,

I get to play at being his little devil.