Chapter 15
Jabari
Since my sight diminished, there have been many opportunities for me to comprehend how integral seeing is to my way of life.
None of those moments eclipses this one.
Not being able to see if my mom has a worried frown on her face or note her body language eats at me.
Is she okay? Really okay? I find myself leaning forward when she speaks, as if I can tell from the nuances in her voice that she’s all right.
“Jabari, why do you look so tense?” Mom asks.
I hold in a sigh and try to melt into my recliner. “I don’t know. I don’t feel tense.” Lies. I’ve got more knots in my stomach than a fisherman’s line.
“Is it because Val is coming to dinner?”
Not at all. I can’t wait for her to get here. Maybe she can be my second set of eyes. Huh. That’s actually a good idea.
“Tell me more about her.”
“What do you want to know?” And what more can I say?
I’ve already told Mom how we met and begged her not to make it weird when Val arrives. Mom remembers Jackie and all too well how our story ended. She’s also curious as to what Val thinks about it. Jackie is not someone my mom remembers with fondness.
“Well, you mentioned you two are friends, but is there more to it? Seems weird for her to come over for dinner to meet your mother if nothing more is happening between you guys.”
I raise my brows. “Mom, I’ve had countless friends over to our house for dinner throughout the years. What makes this any different?”
“She’s a girl.”
“Uh . . .” Mom’s not wrong, but she’s also so wrong.
How can I tell her that Val’s been a light in a very dark place .
. . figuratively and literally speaking?
Through all the conversations we’ve had, nothing has said attraction.
I’m okay with that. I don’t need a girlfriend; I need a friend.
I need someone who’s going to take the time to understand me without showing me pity. Val does that perfectly.
As much as I appreciate Javier and Raimo dropping by—they don’t want me to be lonely, and they’re afraid of what’ll happen now that I don’t have hockey—I don’t get the vibe they actually want to hear how I feel about the whole process.
My coping worries are left for Val and Val alone.
I don’t even plan on telling Mom how miserable I get.
“Mom, please just treat her like my friend and nothing else.”
She huffs, but after a pause, speaks. “Fine. I’ll be friendly to your friend.”
“Thanks.” I smile to let her know how much it means to me.
And I hate that I can’t tell if she’s smiling back. Because even if I place her in my peripheral vision, it still takes a lot of work to note those kinds of details. I can see the outline of her perfectly, can somewhat see the color of her clothes. That’s it.
The doorbell rings.
“I’ll get it,” Mom cries.
Good, because I don’t feel like navigating to the front of the house. Though the muscles along the side of my neck are getting stronger from all the angling I’ve been doing to put people in my periphery, it’s not how I want to walk down the hall.
Val’s voice gets closer, so I stand. I may not see her enter the living room, but I can be expectant.
“Jabari, you didn’t tell me Val is so pretty,” Mom says. She sounds shocked.
I’m tempted to remind her I’ve never been able to tell those details, but Val speaks before I can.
“He doesn’t know what I look like now,” Val states simply.
“Oh.” Mom’s voice falters. “That’s right.”
A movement shifts at my right, and Val slides an arm around my back, squeezing my sides. “Hey,” she says loudly, then drops her voice. “How’s it going?”
I hug her back. “You arrived in the nick of time.”
Her soft chuckle pulls an answering grin to my lips.
“Did you come hungry?” I ask.
“You said to bring my appetite.” She shifts away, dropping her arm.
Why does cold linger where her arm used to be?
“Dinner’s all ready, Val. Do you want to sit at the table and talk? We can get to know each other better,” Mom says.
“That sounds wonderful, Ms. Hall.”
“Oh, no, dear. Please call me Paula.”
“Thanks, Paula.”
I follow their voices to the dining room. Chair legs scrape across the floor, and I turn my head in time to see a figure sit on the left side. Fortunately, the end chair remains empty. My breath slows as I accurately connect to the back rung and pull it out to sit in.
“Is Val short for Valerie?” Mom asks.
I reach for the dish in front of me, but Mom stays my hand. “I’ll dish up your plate.”
I nod, but my gut churns. Val and I have shared a meal twice and never once did she act like I’m incapable of feeding myself. Granted, the restaurants plate the food before handing me the dish.
“No, actually my dad named me after Val James.”
“The hockey player?” I ask. How had I never thought to ask this?
“Yep. Dad named us all after African Americans who paved the way in sports.”
“Is Jackie after Robinson?” I ask.
“Yes, and Fran is after Earl Francis Lloyd. She got the more obscure name because Mom’s stipulation was they had to sound feminine. She didn’t want us being mistaken for men.” Val chuckles.
“Your father’s a sports agent, right?” Mom asks.
“Yes, and my brother-in-law is his partner. Well, Dad made him partner not too long ago after he married my sister.”
“He’s married to Jackie or Fran?” Mom asks.
“Jackie. They have an adorable little boy as well. Ollie’s stolen all of our hearts.”
It’s a little strange to imagine Jackie as a mom. Val I can easily picture in that role. Jackie not so much. Then again, maybe Jackie has grown up these past ten years. She certainly needed to.
“Do you have pictures of him?”
“I do.”
I take a bite of the meatloaf as Mom admires the pictures of my ex’s son. What a bizarre world I’m living in. My vision’s crap, Val Elliott is my best friend, and Jackie’s a mom. Just another day in the life of Jabari Hall.
I snicker inwardly at my internal monologue.
The women are too busy gushing over Ollie’s ability to walk and say train to notice I’m slowly moving toward mentally punch-drunk.
Val’s probably already had her moments when she’s thought how strange it is to befriend her sister’s ex, but for some reason, it’s just now hitting me.
“What does your youngest sister do?” Mom asks.
“She works at the agency. Both she and Jackie are agents.”
“Is that what you do as well?”
“Nah, Val’s too smart for that,” I interject. Mom will steamroll a conversation if I don’t remind her there are others who might want to talk. “She’s the project manager and runs the whole office.”
“I’m not surprised. Jabari always finds the smart ones to hang out with.”
I almost choke on my food. What is she trying to insinuate?
“Did he tell you how we became friends?” Val’s voice is amused.
“He did. I can’t imagine.” Mom laughs. “Why did you stay and eat?”
“I did get dressed up, and I was hungry.”
“Sorry I couldn’t appreciate the getting dressed up part.” A self-deprecating smirk covers my face.
“Actually, don’t take this the wrong way, but you not being able to see certain things about me has taken the edge off of how I get ready when I’m going to meet you.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Mom asks.
“At work, I have to present a certain image. Every time I attend meetings with clients, I dress to impress because my dad is constantly harping how we all represent Elliott and Harper, and no one should look like they need a new wardrobe. Honestly, he expects us to exude high-class so the athletes will believe they’ll make money simply by signing with our firm.
I’m constantly touching up my makeup, and by the time I get home, I’m ready for sweatpants, my favorite hoodie, and a makeup-free face. ”
Don Elliott has always been a piece of work. I remember the looks he gave me when I dated Jackie. Like I wasn’t good enough for his precious daughter and would never amount to anything. Who knows what kind of pressure he puts on Val to be perfect.
“And how does that connect with Jabari?” Mom asks.
“I know he can’t see the details of my face,” Val states matter-of-factly. “So why bother touching up my makeup? I could show up makeup-less, and he wouldn’t bat an eye. I can be myself around him, and that’s invaluable.”
My chest swells with pride. I’ve often felt like I have nothing to offer in this friendship, but after hearing that, all I want to do is hug her and let her know she can come over in her sweats anytime.
Okay, man, that sounds a little weird. I’m not trying to be a creeper, just offer her a safe space to rest whenever she needs one.
I reach over and squeeze her hand, thankful she’s on my left. This eye has a little bit more visibility since the dark spot is smaller.
Mom clears her throat, and Val withdraws her hand.
“I’m glad you found a positive in this, Val. I must admit, I’m trying to do the same.” Mom sniffs.
My face must give away my feelings because Val reaches for my hand underneath the table. I grip it, hoping that Mom isn’t about to start sobbing and leave me to pick up the pieces.
“I think all we can do is look for the good. It’s something I always try to do even when perception tells me something different.”
Mom sighs. “Easier said than done.”
She means her depression. And I agree. For Mom it truly is easier to say than to do. Is she taking her medication? The question remains unasked because I don’t want to embarrass her in front of Val. She doesn’t like talking about her mental health, and I don’t want her to think I’m pitying her.
Like you thought she pitied you earlier?
Right. We’re both trying to navigate our illnesses together.
“Want to watch a movie?” I ask. Anything to move past the awkwardness and difficult line of questioning.
“Actually, I think I’ll dish up some dessert and head to my room. The long travel day is catching up.”
Ugh. I want to read her body language, anything to know that she’s telling the truth. I don’t want her to go back to her room and cry all by herself.
“You sure, Mom?”
“Yes.”
Is her voice upbeat?
“Enjoy the rest of your visit with Val. And, Val, it was lovely to meet you.”
“You too, Paula.”
As soon as my mom’s footsteps retreat, I turn toward Val. “Did she seem extra sad when she left? Do you think she’s really just tired?”
“I do. Don’t worry. She seemed fine.”
“‘Freaked out, insecure, neurotic, and emotional’?” I joke, quoting from Italian Job.
Val laughs. “The opposite.”
“Good.” I let out a breath. If Val says don’t worry, I won’t.
“Do you really want to watch a movie?” she asks.
“I do. Too bad I’m just now getting the idea. You could’ve come over in your sweats and relaxed in my movie room.”
“You have a movie room?”
She sounds shocked. Why does she think I have all this money if not to have a movie room to impress the ladies? Are you trying to impress her? No. We’re friends, I don’t have to worry about that. Isn’t that what I’ve been telling Mom?
I clear my throat. “I do.”
“Aren’t you Mr. Fancy?”
She has to be smiling.
I grin and lean closer. “Are you impressed?” Dude, you’re not trying to impress Val Elliott.
“Very.”
So, okay, maybe I am trying to impress her because the mere idea has me wanting to puff out my chest.
Get it together, Hall. “How about we eat some of my mom’s berry cobbler and watch something? Her cobbler is legendary. Do you want yours with ice cream or whipped cream?”
“Both?”
“Both it is.”
I stand and reach for my plate, but Val stills my hand. “Your mom cooked so I’ll clean up.”
“I don’t think so. You’re the guest.”
“And my folks taught me to offer to clean.”
“And you did. I appreciate it. Now let me clean up.” I raise a brow.
Val makes an irritated noise. “Don’t be stubborn. No one likes to do the dishes.”
“Are you offering because you think I won’t do a good job since I can’t see well?” My shoulders tense, waiting for her answer.
“I mean, can you? But, no, that’s not why I suggested it. I genuinely want to help.”
I rub my face. Why is everything getting under my skin today?
“Jabari?” Val asks gently.
“I’m okay.” I tilt my head left, then right, letting the satisfying crack ease some of the tension. “Just a little irritable for some reason. But it’s definitely me and not you.”
Val snorts. “I already knew that.”
A chuckle falls from my lips. “Always quick with the retort.”
“I have to be around you.”
The sound of plates being stacked reaches my ears, and I remain quiet.
“Look,” she says from behind my back. “If you’re going to brood, then I’m putting you to work. You can dry and put the dishes up since I don’t know where anything goes.”
“Or we can leave them, get our dessert, and watch a movie.”
“Option B it is.”