In the Wings

n i n e

"I want a 5-mile warm-up then we're going straight into passing drills. Chirico, Falconer, you know the deal," Coach said, pointing to Declan and Gray to lead the practice.

"Okay, let's go, everyone! Get your asses moving." Declan started running down the track. It would take the team 32 trips around that field to complete 5 miles; Bennett had counted the last time. With his mile time now averaging around 6 minutes, it would be just about half-an-hour.

Bennett began to jog, knowing he would pick-up his pace soon.

"Bennett, wait up!"

"Imran, I swear to god, this better not be one of your lame-ass attempts to get me to do your Spanish notes. I don't even fucking take Spanish! There's a reason I spent my summers, grades 1 through 12, at my grandma's house in the French countryside with no internet."

"It's not that. Mama asked if you wanted to come over for Thanksgiving and I said I would ask you."

Imran grew up in Hood River, Oregon, population: 7,800. While Bennett had been sheltered as a child, Imran and his family were one of the few colored people in Hood River, leaving him horribly aware of the maliciousness that continued to exist in the seams of his world. Los Angeles was a breath of fresh air for Imran, one that he refused to let out when he occasionally returned to his hometown.

"Thanksgiving? I thought you didn't celebrate."

"Things are a little different this year."

Imran's Mama told him over the phone that she had finally caved. After years of working to preserve the Egyptian culture that his parents were surrounded by as children, the pressure from neighbors and colleagues to integrate snapped them. Imran had protested at first, but he soon gave in to Mama's sweet chocolate words and golden smile.

"Imran, please. Sue said it's a good opportunity to be thankful," she said, referring to her secretary at the office.

"But why after all of these years? Why now?"

"I don't know, with Bassel sick and Baba traveling this year, I think we have to be more grateful for everything we have."

"Baba's traveling again? Where to?"

"Vancouver. He didn't tell you?"

"Mama, the last conversation we had was in September when he dropped me off at school."

"He's stressed, Habibi. So am I. Bassel's treatment hasn't shown any progress yet and even the doctors don't know what to tell us. I've surrendered it to Allah because I know he'll guide us, but you know how Baba is, he's still so worried. I really do hope you understand."

"Yeah, I get it. We're all worried."

"Thank you, Habibi. Please ask Bennett if he wants to join us for Thanksgiving. You said he never goes anywhere and I'm going to try my hand at some turkey."

"Will do, Mama."

So there he was, with his tan skin searing under the southern California sun, waiting for Bennett to answer.

"I don't think I can. I literally just made plans to meet someone for a project Saturday evening."

"We'll be back before then. I'm leaving tomorrow night and coming back Saturday morning. Plus, you have a car and if you came, Mama wouldn't have to drive all the way down here."

"Okay, sure. Anything is better than going to my parents' or staying here alone with the Chinese leftovers from last week."

"Wow! Try not to sound too excited. We don't want people to think you're someone you're not."