Lighter by A. Aduma

Author:A. Aduma [Aduma, A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: LGBTQIA+, contemporary, YA, gay, bisexual, Kenyan expats living in the States, East African culture, Swahili, teen pining and angst, unrequited feelings, family drama, drug use
Publisher: NineStar Press, LLC
Published: 2021-12-20T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

My phone buzzed. I peeked at it and saw I had a text from Peep and noted it was twenty minutes past seven. Frida and I should have started making Babu Kachri by now. I couldn’t help think she had chickened out and broken into hives at the thought of spending time with me— I was about to break into hives. Or maybe she was held up wherever she’d gone to.

Whatever the reason, I was anxious. Anxious that she would cancel, and partially hoping she would spare us the awkward that would no doubt be part of the evening.

I glanced back at the screen as it lit up with a second notification. A second text from Peep.

PEEP: I want to buy Tani a promise ring, is that insane?

MO: why would you want to do that?

ME: I think it’s cute

PEEP: okay let’s hear it Mo

MO: last year of high school, you’re going to different colleges…

PEEP: exactly. I want to let her know I value this relationship

ME: then you should

MO: I’m not saying it won’t work, but long distance is messy

Someone tapped on my door. Definitely not Granma; she had the habit of charging into my room without knocking or an announcement. Frida? Or Paul, my mind supplied. At this point, I was seeing more of him than I was Frida.

“Rasheed, I’m back,” Frida said. “I brought everything we’ll need. Are you ready?”

I sat up. “Uh, yeah, give me a minute!”

ME: ttyl…gone to cook

I hopped off the bed, body buzzing with excitement and nerves.

Frida and I hadn’t spent time together since I was nine.

She’d taken me to an Animal Orphanage which had lots of colorful snakes and a hundred-year-old tortoise, and we’d gotten fried chicken afterwards. I remembered her smiling at how oily my face had gotten and me grinning at seeing her happy. It was one of the few good memories I had of her; the rest usually left me empty.

PEEP: good luck, hope it turns out well

Yeah, me too.

It’ll be alright, I thought. I pocketed the phone, wiped my hands on my jeans, and marched to the kitchen.

We were quiet as we unpacked the ingredients.

I opened a bag of sev, took a handful, and munched it down.

“So, we’ll start with peeling the potatoes. I think that’s easier,” Frida began. She opened the now neatly organized drawer and pulled out a potato peeler. Her eyes darted toward me and back to the potatoes. “Do you know its origins?”

“Not really.” I grabbed half of the potatoes and began to peel.

Frida cleared her throat. “Uh, well the actual name is Kachri bateta. It’s an Indian food, but we call it Babu Kachri after the Indian man who started selling it.” She sounded like she was reading from a prompt.

If this set the tone for how the rest of the evening would go, then we’d be drowning in awkward before we even got halfway done.

“It’s actually easy to make. It’s pretty straightforward.”

“Oh, nice.”

There was a long but pleasant silence as we got the potatoes peeled and diced.

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