Chapter 17
Jamal King
“Mom, it won’t fit,” I whine, unable to fit my loose hair under the ball cap. “Not even when I unfasten the snaps. It sticks out like a big fluffy hairball.” I angle the phone in the hotel mirror so she has a better view. I’ll probably smell like peanut butter for ages.
If I had a dollar for every time I’ve had to tell someone not to touch my hair, I would just be playing hockey for the love of it. My hair tends to frizz if left to its own devices. Being self-conscious about not wearing it braided goes back to elementary school because kids can be cruel.
She covers her mouth, hiding her smile. “J, I’m sorry. I’m glad it’s not worse. Good thing Theo was there to help.” Her brown eyes dance, and I can’t be mad at her.
“He felt guilty as hell, ’cause he knew he did that,” I scoff, and peer at my moms when she’s silent.
“J, I admire your healthy skepticism. You don’t take a person’s words at face value.
You watch their actions and then make a judgment.
” When I go to argue, she shushes me and continues.
“Theo didn’t do this, and even if he felt guilty, he’s not obligated to help you.
You should pay attention to his actions. ” She gives me a pointed stare.
“I gotta get on the bus to the airport like this,” I complain, not wanting to examine my complicated feelings for Theo or realize I’m the bad guy in this situation.
“I’m glad Jada can fix it when you get home. Do you want to come over for dinner afterward?”
“I need to watch film and take a nap already.” My nervous system has been on high alert, and I can’t convince my body I’m not in danger. It’s exhausting.
“Text me when you land safely. Love you, honey.”
“I love you too.” I end the video call and decide to hit the vending machine instead of breakfast.
The guys won’t mean any harm, but I’m not in the mood to hear about my hair or answer questions.
I’m stuck in my head, anticipating problems that haven’t happened.
The truth is, my hair being half done makes me feel messy, and it’s out of my control.
Historically, society has looked down upon natural Black hair, and it feeds my anxiety.
Theo’s mad confusing. He got me, like, damn, pick a lane. Is he hating on me or open to being friends?
Looking back, I’m shook I trusted him, but my moms is right. His actions say he’s trustworthy. He calmed me with one hand fixing my hair and the other kneading my tense muscles, all while murmuring in my ear. The words have faded, but their gentle rhythm rocked me like a lullaby.
I raid the vending machine with the intention of getting on the bus first and claiming a window seat. Maybe no one will notice.
My conversation with Theo replays over and over. I shouldn’t have insinuated he’s bi, but he made it so easy, and the man got ghostly pale.
With horror, I realize I acted like him.
In truth, I was uncomfortable.
My therapist would tell me I covered my authentic emotions by deflecting and lashing out.
Theo could be struggling with being bi, and I joked as if it was meaningless.
Some guys like Lucky can go with the flow after they realize they’re attracted to men.
Some guys have an identity crisis. To set things right with Theo, I can’t use his insecurities against him.
Or he could be a straight asshole fucking with me. He brings out a side of me I’m not proud of.
But he didn’t touch me like he was confused. He spoke directly into my ear, and goosebumps erupted all over my neck. He had to have noticed, but he didn’t back away.
On my way out the front door, Mav yells to me. “Hey, King, 1985 called and wants the mullet back.” He snickers, but I don’t turn around. “Owww, what was that for?”
“No one talks about King’s hair,” Theo commands as if he has the final say.
The bus driver opens the door for me, and I hop on, find my seat, and sit with the back of my head against the window.
Detroit isn’t far from New York City, but it feels a world away.
“Here.” Theo throws a bag in my lap and sits next to me.
“That’s Brant’s seat,” I say warily.
“You’re welcome, and not today. You need better manners.”
I huff at Theo, Mr. I-Don’t-Give-A-Shit, schooling me on manners.
“Open it.” He holds the bag open. “There weren’t a lot of choices last night, but I did my best.”
Curiosity gets me, and I dump the contents in my lap. There’s a Detroit beanie and a black do-rag.
“No one will say anything else about your hair. I made sure.” Theo looks at me expectantly.
“Thanks.” I shove them back in the bag. The do-rag would be helpful, but I’m not putting it on my head without washing it first. That’s nasty.
Our legs touch, and he doesn’t move his away. “You’re not even going to try them?” Theo’s voice rises.
“I said thank you.” Closing my eyes, I block him out.
Mav taps me from the seat behind. “Hey, I hope I didn’t offend you.”
I can either stand up for myself or make him comfortable. Conflict isn’t my thing, but my teammates can’t change if they don’t know it’s wrong.
“Whether or not you meant it, the impact was negative. Comments about your hair hit different when laws have to be passed to legally protect you for wearing it the way it grows out of your head.” I don’t have the energy to explain it to him.
“Damn, I’m sorry, man. I didn’t—”
“I know.” My body’s facing forward so I can’t see his face and feel like it’s my job to make him feel better.
Theo’s leg presses into mine, and I absorb its warmth and relax for the first time all morning.
My breath catches in my lungs as awareness becomes a full-blown self-discovery. I hope my therapist can work me in this week because crazy thoughts invade my head. For a second, I think I’m attracted to Theo, but that’s not possible because I’m not sure I like him.
Even as the thought spirals through my brain, I can’t deny it or move away from him.
Like him or not, he helped me out and has stood up for me in a way no one else in my life has. No one ever thinks about how I live in a white world and have to make myself fit in. Theo picks up on what I need.
Today, I’m exhausted from my nervous system functioning on high alert, but with him near me, I’m calmer.
I concentrate on my breathing. I’m fine. I’ll be home soon and can put this trip behind me.
“My gifts aren’t good enough for you?” he says into my ear.
My eyes pop open because he’s in my space, and I’m not frozen. Somehow my brain has decided he’s safe.
“Sorry,” I mutter, not sure what I’m apologizing for, and shrink into my seat to put distance between us.
My reaction to him is panic, not attraction. I need to get over myself and move on.
“Are you? Or are you… Hey, what’s wrong?” Theo grips my arm when I gasp for breath.
No, no, no, NO! I’m not losing control. I’ll deal with my issues later. All that matters now is getting my panic under control. Theo’s hand grounds me. He’s a tether out of the mess in my head.
I put my head between my knees and concentrate on his hand massaging the back of my neck.
“What do you need?” he whispers.
“Control,” I choke out.
Theo fumbles his phone and drops it next to my foot. I can see he searched what should I do when someone is having a panic attack.
He bends down beside me. “You’re safe. I’m here for you.”
I believe him.
He models slow breathing and asks me to tell him five things I see. I don’t answer but appreciate his effort.
After two lifetimes, I’m under control and sit up.
“You okay?”
I nod and my cheeks burn, hoping no one else noticed. My headphones dangle around my neck, and I use them to cover my ears. The ride to the airport is taking a thousand years, and Theo’s eyeing me like I might break. I shut my eyes and pretend to fall asleep.
“Is he okay?” Brant asks, and I picture his face between the seats.
“All good,” Theo lies for me.
“Are you sure last night didn’t scare him?” Brant presses.
“You can’t blame him, growing up where he did.” Theo shifts, and his knee brushes mine.
“Brooklyn?”
“No…never mind.” Theo sits back so hard his seat bounces. His eyes are on me. I assume he’s waiting to ask why my teammates don’t know where I grew up. I’m not ashamed of where I came from, but I don’t trust many people with my history. And it doesn’t come up.
“I’ve never met anyone like you,” he admits under his breath.
I remain quiet. It’s only a few more minutes to the airport, and I can hang on.
Figuring Theo out is like an itch I can’t scratch. He seems offended on my behalf when someone makes an off-color comment that could be racist, yet he enjoys making me angry. There’s a light in his eyes when I give in to my negative emotions.
He’s like a little kid, trying to get attention any way he can, and he’s figured out negative responses are the fastest way to undivided attention.
There’s an entire side of himself that Theo hides from the world. The side that murmurs encouragement while gentle fingers work vile gum from my hair.
Theo’s gifts today were unexpectedly thoughtful. He knew I didn’t want the team or anyone to see my hair frizzy and fluffy. It’s tough to explain what happened because they don’t have the cultural understanding of why it’s humiliating.
I’m not sure who Theo was last night. If he’s really caring and compassionate or… It’s unfair to think he has an ulterior motive. The thought of that alone would disappoint my mom. She believes his actions spoke up for me.
Usually, people use words to fool others by saying one thing and doing another. Theo’s words are harsh and rude, but…his actions are the opposite.
I pride myself on reading people through their body language, facial expressions, and tone of voice.
In the past, the skill kept me safe. Being the only Black guy on a hockey team was scary sometimes.
I had to learn who was safe, who meant me harm, and who would be a bystander to violence.
There are times I’m sure Theo would jump me in a dark alley and leave me to die.
But he’ll also defend me from emotional and physical harm.
Maybe that’s what it’s like to have a sibling. Someone who, on any given day, will defend your life or take it depending on the situation.
Thinking of Theo as my brother turns my stomach. It feels wrong on every level.
The bus pulls up to the airport, and I realize I’ve spent the entire ride obsessing over Theo. I don’t know who I am when he’s around. No one has taken up more space in my brain than he has.
All I know is that he’s there when I need him most, and he smells better than a human has a right to.