Page 12 of The Masks We Wear
Jamal and I have a lot to talk about, but it seems we’re on the same page as we delay our awkward conversation. It’s not Halloween, the masks are off, and I don’t know if there’s anything I want from Superhero now that he’s right in front of me.
PART 7: JAMAL
THE SOUNDS OFmy friends laughing and chatting fill the living room as I sip from my cup. This watered-down beer is weaker than Granny’s week-old lemonade, but no one seems to mind. These Yankee college kids are weird.
Still, I smile at this group of dancers who have quickly become some of my best buds. We’re at a house in Brooklyn, living it up, celebrating both Serena’s birthday and the success of last week’s big competition. The music is loud, the liquor is plenty, and the love in the air is palpable—dance nerds know how to party! While we all pitched in to make last week’s event a success, Firass and Serena gave me major props for coordinating the whole dang thing;—they gave me a mixed drink in my honor, and I chugged it down to a round of applause. While being the coordinator was more of a hassle than wrestling three ornery pigs, it was a great distraction from the woes of my professional life.
Speaking of distractions, I spy Jung across the living room clapping along as Serena and some others throw back shots. He laughs and his dimples pop in just the way they have in my dreams. Without the mask, Kitty Cat is handsomer than I ever could have imagined.
I groan, then finish my shitty beer. What the fuck are we gonna do? Jung hasn’t tried to reach out to me all week; we haven’t even exchanged numbers. It’s crystal clear that my time as Superhero didn’t mean shit to him. It was probably just a good time, some rolling in the proverbial sheets, and he’s moved on. I gaze at him as he pats Firass on the back, laughing with almost a dozen other folks from the team. A guy like Jung is the life of the party—he’s basically a professional dancer for crying out loud. Why would he want to settle for a newly out Southern hick like me?
His gaze meets mine, and I freeze up. I toss out my empty plastic cup and wipe my mouth on my wrist, and by the time I turn around again, Jung is making a beeline for me.Oh crap, what do I do?I’ve been annoyed and anxious this whole week since Jung has been avoiding me, but now he wants to talk and I’m about to shit bricks.What do I say?
“Hey,” he says, hands in his pockets. His smile is shy, and I can tell he’s as sober as I am—that is to say, too sober for college seniors.
“Hey,” I reply meekly.
“Can we talk?”
No good has ever come from those three words. “Course.” He juts his chin to the backdoor, and I lead the way.
We make our way outside, letting the thumping bass of the music diminish as the door closes behind us. This tiny blue wooden porch feels like our own little tucked-away corner of the world. Buildings of all sizes sprawl out in front of us and the night sky drapes over us, like a big curtain of privacy. As Jung sits down on a step, I join him, never removing my gaze from the sky.
Ten seconds of palpable silence pass, and I can’t take it anymore. “I miss the stars from back home.”
Jung snickers. “Yeah, we don’t get those here.”
“The city lights eclipse ’em.”
“You get maybe a handful on a clear night.”
“In Mississippi, some nights…” I whistle. “It’s like the daylight never left, there’re so many.” I finally look down to see Jung already studying me.
“That sounds heavenly. I’ve only ever lived here, so…” His words trail off, and he looks back down at the dirt.
After a tense five seconds, he clears his throat. “You should know, Jamal, that…” I lean in, my pulse pounding in my ears. “That I think you did a great job coordinating the competition. The rest of the team and I are lucky to have you.”
A big part of my heart deflates. “Uh…thanks, Jung.”
“I’m not just saying that because we…” He points to us, letting our unspoken fantasies drift through the air.
Dang, this is awkward. And it’s exactly what I feared. Without the masks and the veneer of Halloween, Kitty Cat and I don’t know how to talk to each other. I glance to my left and take in his features; in the glow of the porch lights, his eyes look different than I imagined.
But he truly is more handsome than I could have dreamed of these past months. And lovely. I’m honored he’s the first guy I really like whom I went to second and third bases with.
“Penny fer yer thoughts, Kitty Cat?”
A smile grows on the corner of his mouth, but he doesn’t move his eyes. “That accent is gonna kill me.”
I chuckle. “We can’t have that, now darlin’. Not when you and I have been acquainted like two tadpoles in a bog.” We both laugh, and he stares right at me. I take in how perfect he looks when he smiles, and I fight the urge to touch his hand. There are so many things I want to say, so many things I would fight for if we only had more time together.
Or the courage to be ourselves without masks on.
“So uh…what’s yer plan after graduating?”
“I’m right back on that dance internship. Going to be a full-timer.”
“Fuck, that’s awesome. You really makin’ a name for yerself.” We hold a stare for another moment. “I’m proud of you, Kitty Cat.”
