Page 60 of Reggie and Delilah's Year of Falling

“But for real,” I continue. “I try not to let it get to me, because they don’t get to decide. I’m Black. Period. So anything I like, anything I do, is something that Black people do. If people have a problem with that, well, that’s their baggage. And it’s okay thatit makes me upset, to feel those feelings, but I don’t have to let it affect me forever. I don’t have to change anything for them.”

As the words are coming out of my mouth, I know I’m not being one hundred. Because yeah, this is how I want to feel, how Iwouldfeel in an ideal world, but it’s not how I’m actually living. Eric and Tyrell and random people online... their problems with medefinitelyaffect me. Their opinions are like seeds planted in my mind that grow into something ugly and invasive and permanent, stealing all the space and light.

But I just keep talking though, chasing the approval—and something else, something stronger—that’s written all over her face.

“We’re not a monolith, you know? And no one’s standing at the official Black gates checking percentages or, like, your knowledge of sweet potato pie and... Bill Withers songs. Well, except on Twitter, but that’s the bad place.”

“Bill Withers songs!” she repeats, laughing. “Oh my god, that’s totally what my mom plays when she’s cleaning the house on Saturday morning.”

“My mom too! See, take that, haters! We’re Black!”

That sends her into another fit of giggles. And you know, maybe it doesn’t matter if I’m misrepresenting myself a little bit, smudging the facts, because it’s helping her. She looks lighter, looser, than she did just a few minutes ago, as if she threw off a big ol’ backpack of bricks. It’s so clear that this is—no, thatI am—making her feel better.

And I feel better too. I don’t think I’ve ever broached these topics with anyone, not face-to-face like this. I don’t think I couldwith anyone but Delilah.

“God, you’re just so easy to talk to,” she says, shifting in her seat. Her leg moves closer to mine, our knees kissing, and my body tenses, scared to move even a little and break the spell. “It’s very different with the guys,” she continues. “I can’t talk through any of this with them. And it’s been sort of... weird.”

“Why?” I ask, immediately ready to take up a sword and fight. “Did they do something to you?”

“No, no... well, not really.” She sounds like she’s trying to convince herself. “I’m probably being too sensitive. And Beau—he’s the drummer—I know he tries to go in and delete asshole comments and messages on our Instagram before I can read them. I saw him doing it at rehearsal once. So, they look out for me.”

“But?” It’s clear from the way she’s biting her lip—I am now a scholar in interpreting Delilah’s lips—that there’s a but.

“But... it sorta feels like my Blackness is all they see right now. Like how it’s helping the band?” I raise my eyebrows and she waves her hand, like she’s wiping away what she just said. “Nothing big, just little things. Like this morning, Charlie—you’ve met Charlie—he texted me asking if we should make a post about Juneteenth on our band account. Not in the group chat, only to me. And it just felt... weird? I don’t know. It’s not anything explicit that they’re saying or doing.”

“Sounds pretty explicit to me.”

She shrugs. “I don’t know,” she repeats. “But all of this... it’s just made me feel like maybe my race was something they’ve been very aware of all along, even though we’ve neverreallytalked about it. And that makes me even more hesitant to talk about it... Doesthat make sense? I don’t think I’m making sense!” She covers her face with her hands, and I lightly touch her shoulder, pulling away just as fast because I don’t want to freak her out.

“You are! I get it.”

She peeks at me in between her fingers. “Thank you, Reggie.” And before I could have written off our knees touching as an accident, but she shifts closer again and this time it’s definitely intentional how our thighs are pressing together. She brings her hands down to her lap and her lips curve into a small smile, brown eyes bright. And I want to reach up and count every tiny freckle on her nose, I want to lean in and press my eyelashes to hers. But... does she want that too?

“It’s probably because I admire you so much,” she says, looking at me like I’m someone special. “How you put yourself out there, I guess—even when it’s hard and this whole identity mind-fuck. You’re never ashamed of who you are.”

My heart drops straight down to my stomach because, oh yeah, she’s looking at me like that because of the act I’m putting on. She’s sitting all close to me because she thinks I’m someone I’m not... not really. Would she still be touching my knee, hitting my shoulder, if she knew I was just as scared as she is—probably evenmorescared—of people judging me and my identity.

“How’s the stuff going with that podcast, anyway? Sorry I haven’t asked!”

“Oh, no big deal, no worries,” I mumble. “And it’s going good. Real good! We’re working out the details.”

And if the veracity of what I said before was a little murky, well, this is an outright lie. No details are being worked out. Ididn’t even respond to Darren’s last email at all. Just completely ghosted him.

But... she said she admires me. So maybe it’s okay to be a little morally gray if it means I’m helping her and encouraging her. This could, like, push her to be a huge rock star or something and reach her full potential. It already kinda is! I’m basically doing a good deed. And maybe she’ll write some huge, influential album or whatever that inspires generations to come, so this is practically a community service.

I mean, sure, it’s helping me too, getting me closer to the girl of my dreams. But I’m nothurtinganyone. I’m helping... both of us.

I see movement out of the corner of my eye, and when I turn my head, I realize it’s Eric walking up with my cousins Jerry and Wally. My heart starts beating fast. I’ve got to get Delilah far away from them, and fast. I mean, I don’t think they would try to embarrass me in front of her on purpose... at least I hope not. But family sometimes can’t help but take you down a few notches—and with Eric? Add a few notches more. I can’t take a chance here, not with how good things are going right now.

I pop up off the bench and reach out for Delilah’s hand. At first her eyes go wide in surprise, but then, thankfully, her face softens into a grin and she places her fingers on mine.

“Hey, uh, do you want to go walk over by the pond?” I ask, nodding my head in that direction.

“Yeah. I do.”

Delilah

Reggie and I are holding hands.

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