Chapter 6
Val
Why did I agree to a blind date on the most romantic holiday in the US?
There has to be something wrong with me.
Why am I willingly torturing myself by getting dressed up just to meet a stranger at a restaurant—a Michelin star one, but who cares—while praying it goes well enough that Valentine’s Day won’t be ruined for me forever?
Yet here I stand, checking my reflection in the mirror.
My brown skin glows from the shimmering lotion I used—yes, I’m still going all out despite the yuck factor of being set up by friends.
Fran put big curls at the ends of my flat-ironed hair to give me a more sophisticated look.
My red wrap dress covers everything but gives a hint of femininity.
Plus, it has pockets. If we end up dancing tonight, the bottom portion will give a good twirl.
Not that I’m banking on that. I simply want to look my best so I don’t feel so nervous.
Mission not accomplished.
“You look gorgeous. Stop fretting in front of the mirror.”
I roll my eyes at Fran. “Hush. You’re not the one going out.”
“That’s because I don’t want to do the club scene again. I’m tired of that.”
Since when does Fran find going out every night tiresome?
Who is this, and what has she done with my little sister?
Jackie, me, and Fran are all three years apart.
Our parents had perfect stair-step children, but sometimes the three years between Fran and me seems further apart.
Not to mention the six years between her and Jackie is practically another generation.
In fact, I think Jackie falls in the millennial age range while Fran and I are Gen Zers.
Finally satisfied with my appearance, I turn my attention to Fran. “Do you want to take my place tonight?”
“No way.” Her nose wrinkles. “Blind dates scream desperation.”
“Gee, thanks, Fran.” But she’s not wrong. I want happiness. Don’t I deserve to have that someone special?
She scoffs. “Val, you’re not desperate, but you are too kind. You know you don’t want to go on this date, but you told Raimo yes anyway.”
“He’s a good friend. I didn’t want to disappoint him.”
Fran arches a brow as if saying See? “You’d rather risk disappointing yourself instead? How sad is that?”
“Whatever.” I grab my sparkling red clutch and slip my feet into my matching pumps.
“You’re taking a rideshare, right?”
“Yeah. I’m too pretty to ride the Metro tonight.”
She breathes out a sigh. “Good. Call if he’s a troll and you need help.”
“I will.” Though Raimo wouldn’t pick someone truly atrocious. My fear of having nothing in common with my future date, making the night move slower than paint dries, is greater than being hooked up with a troll.
“I’ll wait up.”
“You don’t have to.”
Fran shrugs. “Not like I’ll be doing anything better.”
“Thanks, Franny.” Is it me, or is this weird? Usually she’s the one going out, not staying in.
“Ugh. You know I hate that nickname.”
I wrap her in a hug. “Franny Fran Fran,” I taunt in her ear.
“Go, Val Pal.”
I chuckle and don my pink peacoat. The coat falls to my knees and will keep me warm in the February chill.
Sometimes I wish we lived somewhere warmer.
People in the South are getting spring weather already.
Can you imagine? DC just got an unexpected snow fall last week, and there’s still iced-over snow piles around the city.
By the time I exit the lobby’s front door, the black Tesla that is tonight’s ride rolls into the circular driveway. I open the back-passenger door.
“Val?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
He confirms the address as I buckle and settle in. My fingers fly across my cell phone screen.
Val
Driver is Frank, black Tesla.
I add the license plate number and send the message to our sister group chat.
Jackie
Girl, you’re going out on Valentine’s Day? I’m scared of you.
Fran
She has a blind date!
Jackie
Is this a quarter-life crisis?
Val
More like a favor for a friend.
Jackie
How about you do your favorite sis a favor and come watch your nephew so I can have a night out with my husband?
Fran
I love Ollie too. Why do you always ask Val to babysit but not me?
And there’s my cue to exit this little chat thread.
Their bickering will be waiting for me when the night is over.
I don’t need to read the thread in real time.
Fran feels like Jackie and I are always leaving her out, but it’s actually the other way around.
Usually, she’s the one with plans and can’t join Jackie and me.
Tonight’s the first time I’ll be going out while my sisters stay in.
A small smile lifts my cheeks. If nothing else comes of this date, at least I’ll have bucked what’s expected of me.
The driver pulls into the valet area and an attendant helps me from the car. My mind blanks for a minute as I try to remember the instructions Raimo gave me. My date is a hockey player, but that’s all I know. What am I supposed to tell the ma?tre d’ again?
Right. Use Raimo’s name for the reservation.
I step into the building while removing my scarf and unbuttoning my coat. The warmth feels perfect, and I doubt I’ll need either garment the rest of the evening.
“May I take your coat?” one of the hostesses asks.
“Yes, thank you.” I stuff my scarf into my coat pocket and pass the garment to her.
“Are you meeting someone?” the other one questions.
“Yes.” I keep myself from scanning the inside. I don’t want to appear nervous in case my date can see the podium. “I believe the reservation is under the name Karvonen.”
“Oh yes. The other party is already seated. Right this way.”
My heart begins thumping hard in my chest. Why am I so nervous? It’s not like I have to see this man again if the date turns out to be a disaster. But something like trepidation wraps its claws around me, making each breath more difficult.
The lights are at the lowest setting that still allows the place to be navigable. My gaze is fixed on the hostess wearing a sparkly black jumpsuit guiding me toward my date.
Please don’t let him be a frog, Lord. Please, please, please.
I stop praying as my brain runs out of words. We round a corner, and my steps falter as I take in the seclusion of the area. Almost like we’re the only two people in this part of the restaurant.
Duh, he’s a famous hockey player. Probably wants to keep the fans away.
Though aren’t hockey players like football players in that most people don’t know what they look like because they wear helmets the majority of the time? Whatever the case, the hostess stops at the table. I peer around her at the face of my date.
My mouth drops.
Staring right back at me is Jabari Hall.
He doesn’t stand and greet me. Just stares at me as if waiting for me to say something.
But how can I? Somehow I’ve agreed to a blind date with my sister’s ex-boyfriend.
I wasn’t born yesterday, so I know this is breaking girl code, sister code, and probably some other codes vanishing from my brain cells right now.
My thinking slows like a lagging internet search, so I do the only thing I can think of.
I sink into my seat.
Securing the black cloth napkin in my lap, I study the man across the table.
The one we never talk about, the one who should not be in front of me clearing his throat as if preparing to say something.
I frown. Is he going to apologize for cheating on Jackie?
Leave early? My shoulders tense as I wait for him to speak.
“Hi.” He thrusts a hand forward. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jabari.”
Does he not remember me? Is he just one more person who finds me forgettable and invisible? “Hello,” I force out. My voice feels scratchy but sounds normal.
“And your name?” he asks.
My confusion mounts. Is he really going to act like he doesn’t know who I am? Like I hadn’t hung out with Jackie and him in the past?
“Val,” I respond flatly, shaking his hand nonetheless.
“How do you know Raimo?”
“Are you serious right now?” I cross my arms.
This is ridiculous. Yes, he hasn’t seen me in ten years, but I don’t look that much different.
A couple of lines mar his smooth brown forehead. “Have we . . . have we met before?”
“Wow. That’s rich coming from you.” I sneer. “I guess when you have a playboy reputation, you effectively give yourself amnesia with all the women you’ve . . . met over the years.”
His brow furrows. “What are you talking about?”
“Jackie Elliot ring a bell?” Wait until I tell her he doesn’t even recall dating her. Wait, no, that’ll drive the stake farther in. I want to spare her the details, which means I shouldn’t tell Fran about this because she doesn’t know how to keep a secret to save her soul.
“Jackie? You don’t sound like Jackie.”
Of course I don’t. But if my teeth grind harder, I’ll be booking a dental visit. Maybe he hit his head harder than sports media has indicated. “I’m not Jackie. I’m Val.”
“Val!” His eyes widen. “You know Raimo?”
“Yes, but that’s beside the point.” I wave my hand in the air.
“How can you pretend you don’t remember me?
For one”—I hold up my pointer—“I resemble my sister, so that should’ve jogged your memory.
” My second finger goes up. “Two, I haven’t changed that much in ten years.
You should’ve taken one look at me and said, ‘Oh, that’s Val, Jackie’s little sister.
’ And last, you should’ve told Raimo no as soon as he told you who he set you up with. ”
Jabari shakes his head, as if trying to erase cobwebs.
But I don’t wait for him to respond. “You know what? I don’t need to take this. This has to be the worst blind date in history.”
“This is the worst day in history,” he grouses.
My movements halt. “What do you mean?”
“Val, I can explain why I didn’t recognize you.” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “All I ask is that you please not speak a word of this to anyone. And I do mean no one. Not even Jackie or Francis.”
My mouth dries. I already decided not to share this fiasco with my sisters, but the bitterness in his voice makes me worry that I’ll want to tell them.
Still . . . “Fine.”
Jabari runs a hand down his face. “I got a severe concussion last month.”
“Yeah, I saw.”
He winces.
“I’m sorry. That was insensitive.” Even a cheating jerk deserves a little kindness, right?
“No, I can only imagine what the replay looked like.”
“I was actually in the arena, so I saw it in person.”
“Oh. Well, um.” He sighs. “Turns out I also had some swelling and a lesion on my brain.”
I gasp. “Are you okay?” My gaze narrows. “Wait, is that why the lights are so low back here?” Is being out really the best thing for him right now?
“Yeah, I asked them to do that. I still get headaches here and there. Plus, I figured whomever Raimo set me up with—because he didn’t say a name—would think the atmosphere romantic.”
“Oh.” There’s probably a lot more to unpack in his statement, but my short reply is all my brain’s capable of articulating at the moment.
“I’ve been having problems with my vision since the hit knocked me out. At first, my doctors were hoping things would resolve on their own and that the concussion had temporarily altered my vision.”
“And now?” I inquire softly. Something tells me the answer will be bad.
His shoulders drop. “Now they believe it’s permanent.”
Oh no. “What kind of vision changes?” Is what he’s saying the real reason why he didn’t recognize me?
“I have macular degeneration.”
I blink. “I’m sorry, I’ve never heard that term before.
What is it? How does it affect you?” I lean forward, suddenly interested in everything he has to say, to share.
Does Raimo already know? Is that why he and Sanchez picked Jabari and not some other hockey player?
Because surely someone other than my sister’s ex was available.
“Basically I’m losing my central vision.” He holds out a hand in front of him. “All this right in front of me. I still have my peripheral but . . .” His Adam’s apple bobs. “Yeah.”
Oh my word. “What does that mean for hockey? What are the Warriors saying?” How can a hockey player work if he can’t even see in front of him? And what does that mean, losing his central vision? Will he go blind entirely? Are there no treatment options?
I have so many questions, but the heartache on his face keeps me mute.
“It’s not looking good.” He runs a hand through the tight curls on top of his head. “Kind of hard to send me out there when I can’t really make out details. I’m not even sure my eyes will be able to see the puck, let alone players coming my way.”
“I am so sorry.”
“They told me today there’s nothing they can do to make my eyesight any better. So you can see why I’m having a bad day.”
“Does that make me icing on the cake?”
A low laugh falls from his lips, and suddenly the tension of the evening clears.
I join in, and we continue laughing even when our waiter appears, eyeing us like we need a moment to ourselves before he dares interrupt.
And maybe he’s right, because I can feel the prickle of tears as I continue to laugh.
Jabari suddenly stops chuckling. “Is this gonna cause problems with you and Jackie?”
“No. No need to tell her anything.”
He’s quiet. “I had no idea. I would’ve told Raimo no if I’d known it was you.”
Because it’s me, or because I’m Jackie Elliott’s younger sister? Does it matter?
“How about we chalk it up to God laughing and enjoy our dinner?”
His brows raise up. “You’re not going to leave?”
“I’m not.” He looks like he needs a friend, not for one bad date to be the linchpin in a string of bad luck.
“Thanks, Val. I could use a friend.”
“Yeah? So could I.” One who’s not related to me and doesn’t see me as the poor, overlooked relative who’s only good at saying yes to everyone.
Saying yes to this date is one step toward moving outside of my comfort zone.
Developing a friendship with my sister’s ex may be leaps and bounds outside the box, but . . .
“Jabari?” His name feels strange on my lips.
“Yes?”
“If you ever need to talk, need a friend by your side, you can call me.”
Shock fills his brown eyes, but then a slow smile curves his lips. “You were always kind to me, Val. I appreciate it more than I can say.”
He doesn’t have to say anything. I can hear the gratitude in his voice, and that’s enough for me.