identity on hold

xi. joint

I sit at the Dairy Queen closest to my house with a sundae I've only eaten one scoop out of. I Snapchatted Jo a picture of the ice cream, and she responded with a "!!!" and "I'm coming :(". She really thinks I'd try to hurt myself by eating dairy. At the thought of that making her so upset, I cry.

Shantay was easier to rally. I just told her I was here, and she told me she was on the way.

Jo arrives first, jogging toward me with tears in her eyes. "I know we're gonna talk and I'm already emotional about it, so let me cry a little before you roast me," she says, hugging me tight as I sit on the bench. I hold back tears that I'm saving for the whole "I Want My Two Best Friends to Get Along" speech I have prepared in my head.

Shantay doesn't hesitate, even when she sees Jo sitting with me. She walks over and sits next to me, grabbing my hand and running her fingers through my hair. The tears come earlier than I want them to.

Nobody has said a word for a few minutes before Shantay breaks the silence:

"You know prom is in a week, right Boo?" she says, pinching at the blue lace of my dress.

All three of us laugh, and I kick away my melted sundae. It slowly leaks onto the concrete.

"I was gonna say that," Jo replies with a sniff. "Fran, it's fucking perfect. I love it." She hugs me even tighter, and I swipe away tears while I try to gather myself.

My best friends hold onto me while I explain my appearance at a place that's basically useless to me, given that I'm allergic to the entire concept of Dairy Queen. I never told Shantay what my aunt said to me all those years ago, so when I get to that part in the story, she lets go of my hand and stands up, walking in a few circles and breathing in and out dramatically.

"Are you serious?!"

And I keep going, replacing my tears with confidence, telling my friends how neither of them will understand what it's like to be mixed, having to look at both my Black and Mexican identities in the mirror but never completely understanding how I fit into either. Having a family member shame me because my father hurt her sister. Letting that insecurity bleed into my relationship with my cousin, my friends, and my life.

We're silent again, taking in the sounds of the road in front of the Dairy Queen and watching the trees cast long shadows. In the dimmer light, I watch the skirt of my dress sparkle. The blue of it matches Jo's eyes. The blue of it matches Shantay's nails.

"You know, we should all just go to prom together," Jo says.

I squint my eyes in thought, contemplating how I could back out of Chase's promposal when Shantay speaks up.

"Hell no, sweetie. Sorry, you cute, but I paid for a whole-ass limo."

I throw my head back in mock-frustration, and we all share another laugh.

"Or, for now, we could all smoke?" I suggest. At the shared positive reaction, both Jo and Shantay reach into their bags and pull out some variant of marijuana, looking equally guilty until I reach into my bra and clutch a joint between my fingernails.

I guess that's another thing Devon and I have in common.