Page 80 of I Can't Even Think Straight

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I relax into telling Obi

about Yiayia, Bapou, and Granny,

Cyprus and Jamaica,

English and drama,

reading, writing, and watching films.

Our food arrives,

and Obi tells me about his parents,

his big brother, who is also queer,

his grandparents in China and Nigeria,

music and French,

and his folk punk band, FRSH MNT T.

“We’re called Fresh Mint Tea,” says Obi,

“but it’s written all in capital letters

without the vowels.”

My turn to stifle a laugh.

“And pray tell,

what would your band be called?”

Obi asks me.

“Saucy Saucy Mango Chutney,” I reply,

proud of my callback.

“Nice one.” Obi smiles

and flashes those sexy canines again.

“I’m glad I asked you on this date,” I say,

“and didn’t wait for you to ask me.”

Obi laughs. “I’m glad, too.

You’re funny and forthright.”

He pauses. “And very cute.”

He pops a sweet potato fry into his mouth.

“Oh, to be a sweet potato fry,” I flirt again.

“Oh my! Kai, did you really say that?”

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