Honey and Spice(50)

Malakai grinned at the road. “Told you. Big ballin’.”

“Meji gave us our meals for free.”

“It’s the sentiment.”

I smiled and shook my head. “I had fun tonight.”

Malakai’s eyes were still on the road but I somehow sensed the smile in them from my vantage point. “I’m glad. So did I.”

“For what it’s worth, I no longer think you’re a Wasteman.”

I’d been preparing for some gentle gloating, for him to ask me to say it louder, but instead of the smirk I had expected to draw up on Malakai’s face, he was silent for a few seconds, his face thoughtful.

“It’s worth a lot.”

I tore my gaze from the road to his profile in question.

Malakai glanced at me. “Look, I’m not saying being called out didn’t suck, because it did. And I was pissed, obviously. But I think part of why I was pissed was because I was shook that you might have been right. I didn’t mean to be that way but I can see how it looked. Maybe I could’ve been clearer with how I approached things. Maybe . . . maybe, low-key, I knew what would happen if I was clearer.

“The girls weren’t wrong to expect more. But it’s like the more you invest in something the more likely it is that you’re going to hurt someone. I didn’t want either. I didn’t want to emotionally tangle myself up with someone. I’m a mess. I didn’t want to pull someone else into that. I didn’t want to put myself in a situation where I could disappoint. Which I ended up doing anyway, so . . . I see now that that was a shitty plan.”

I frowned. “Why do you think your default would be to disappoint?”

Malakai gave a humorless half smile. “Some things are in the DNA.”

Malakai was focused on the road, jaw tight, loaded from holding on to something. I surprised myself by wanting to help him carry it. If I couldn’t do that then maybe sharing some heavy of my own would keep him company with it.

“You know, the reason I took my sister to the library after school was because my dad would be at the hospital with my mum. We visited on the weekends, but she made my dad promise that he’d keep visits with us sparse. She didn’t want us to see her like that. She got sick just before I started Year 12. She’s okay now but back then it was bad. Really bad.”

I swallowed and looked down at the sleeves of my sweater. This was why I didn’t allow myself to think about it, to talk about it, because the minute I did I was back at the kitchen table, Mum and Dad sitting my little sister and me down and telling us that it was treatable, that it was severe but that she’d fight it: we’d fight it. All we had to do was be strong. So, I was. I pressed everything down so my little sister, Kayefi, would be less scared, so my dad would have one less thing to worry about, so my mum didn’t need anything else to stress over. I would be strong. I would be the strongest, if that was the only thing I could do.

I exhaled deeply. “You know, sometimes I was so scared that I couldn’t even cry. It’s awful. You feel guilty for not being able to cry, but you’re frozen in this . . . fear. You’re suspended in your own sadness.”

“I know what you mean.”

I stared at him in gentle question, but Malakai shook his head. “Go ahead.”

I cleared my throat. “So, when I needed an escape, or when I wanted to make myself cry, I listened to music. I would listen to all this soul and R&B about heartbreak and yearning, and let it pour it out. It helped. It took me places, gave me space to look inside myself. Let me feel, when I was numb inside.”

I was speaking fast in order to avoid focusing on how much I was showing, on what I was showing, on why I was showing, when Aminah was the only person who knew this. Malakai was quiet throughout, his eyes intermittently turning to look at me, flitting between the road and my face.

“I think it’s another version of ‘my place,’ music. I get lost in it, find myself in it. I think that’s why I started Brown Sugar. I guess I wanted to share that place.”

I caught myself. What was it about him that just tugged words out of my mouth? Something in the atmosphere between us dislodged truths from hidden places. I let out a small, nervous, possibly unhinged, laugh. “Ugh. Can we turn the music up? I’m sick of the sound of my voice.”

Malakai glanced at me, his strong features looking so tender in that moment that they hit me in the softest part of my heart. The junction between pleasure and pain.

“Thank you for trusting me with that.”

I hadn’t realized that was what I’d done until he said it. Trust. Was that what I was doing now? Trusting people? How had he made me do that? I wanted to regret it, for that cool feeling to tell me that I’d gone too far, put myself in danger, but the warmth that was beginning to feel like default around him stayed. I liked that he didn’t push, let my feelings sit, waited for me to say or not say. He had a good sense of sensing.

“I’m sorry for what your family went through. I’m really glad your mum’s okay.”

“Thanks. Me, too. It’s weird. After it happened it’s like I forgot how to not repress stuff. I spent so long doing it, it’s kind of like I can’t go back. I get scared that I can’t go back. I mean it’s fine for now, but I want to know that I know how to not repress stuff. I want that option. It freaks me out if I think about it too hard. Like, what if I never know how to do it? What if I’m permanently emotionally fucked?”