Chapter 10
The mess begins.
When I approached him, he looked asleep on a blanket, wearing only basketball shorts, though a cap covered his face. Before I eased down next to him, I called his name. He sat up too quickly to have been asleep and looked away instead of acknowledging me.
“Is this a bad time?” I asked, sensing that it was and that I should leave, though my heart screamed no.
“Yeah,” he replied quietly, facing the beach.
The old me would have left before he grew annoyed or angry with me. The new me recognized that the worst he could dowasbe annoyed or angry with me. “I don’t have these big ears for nothing.” I pulled on my earlobes, which for years had been too big for my head.
He looked at my ears, and sadness etched lines on his forehead. Still, he teased, “They are dumbo-like.”
I popped him on his shoulder, and he chuckled. “Serious...I am a good listener. Why are you out here like this tonight?”
Carter took another deep, wordless sigh.
“I got just the trick.” I knelt behind him, the sand giving enough to spare my knees. “Let me braid your hair, and when you feel like talking, talk.”
“You braid?”
“I can do basic cornrows. Nothing fancier than that. I don’t have a comb to part it, but I think I can at least do four braids.” I searched the sand from the few light poles on the highway andthe moon for a stick. “I can use this stick, and once we go inside, you can brush off any sand if there is any.”
“Go for it.” He shrugged.
His soft, springy hair was easy to part with my makeshift stick comb. “If someone told me a week ago, I would be braiding your hair on the beach at night, I would’ve thought they were crazy.”
“True. Never pictured that the smart, pretty girl with dimples would be down for me. Didn’t think you noticed me.”
“What? Didn’t think I noticed you?” I shrieked, and he looked back at me with a smirk. “You must like getting beat up.”
“Just don’t fuck my head up,” he replied softly. So seriously, I didn’t know if he meant his cornrows or his heart.
“I won’t,” I promised just as softly.
The crash of the waves was the only sound for a long time as I cornrowed his hair.
While he watched the waves, he finally admitted, “My little brother is back in the hospital. He’s sick, and I wanted to go home. My mother is against it since every moment counts this year. Practice like crazy. Must win every damn game. Pressure on like a muthafucka. Dreams of a family on my back. If I fail, it doesn’t just affect me. I’ve loved football most of my life, and I’m starting to hate it. Sometimes I want to quit and just be.”
I shifted to sit and wrapped my legs around him, and he leaned into me. “What’s going on with your brother?”
“You ever hear of sickle cell?”
“Yeah, my cousin has it. Sorry.”
“That’s the thing, he’s been in pain most of his life, and he’s not sorry at all. He believes that God blessed him in other ways to compensate for the disease. Like he can tear the house down when he sings, or that he could be the next big comedian. Or that my mother is killing it as a stylist.” His voice caught. “He considers me his biggest blessing. That my talent is like anexchange for his suffering. When I would give it all up for my brother to have one fucking year without pain.”
I allowed his words to soak in between us.
Carter looked down. “He had to get a blood transfusion today, barely making it, and I’m here living the life like I don’t give two fucks.”
I embraced him tightly from the back and soothed him. “Hey...hey...then be your best for him. If you’re his blessing, then be that.”
“What if I fail?” He asked.
“You won’t, and even if you do, something tells me your brother still believes you are his blessing.” I kissed the back of his neck. Holding, comforting, and being this way with him felt right. Natural.
Carter's hands rested on my arms as we held each other. After another moment of silence, Carter asked, “Is he home?”
