See No Color by Shannon Gibney Page B

had already tacitly agreed to just drop the incident at the pizzeria; it was like we both viewed it as an anomaly—a hole I had mistakenly fallen into when I wasn’t looking.
    â€œSo what’s he like, your dad?” he asked, dipping fried shrimp into sauce. “He’s like a legend in this town. Must be weird.”
    â€œNot really,” I said. “He’s just like everybody else. There’s nothing to tell.”
    Reggie bit off half of the shrimp. “For real?” he asked, peering at me incredulously.
    â€œYup,” I said. I chewed on some rice and tried to look as nonchalant as possible. I couldn’t really believe I was eating dinner with a black person . And not just any black person, but a hot black guy who might be interested in me . What he wanted from me, however, I could not fathom. I had a theory that it had less to do with me and more to do with Dad.
    Reggie shook his head. “You’re a strange bird, Alex Kirtridge,” he said. “Definitely not like anybody else.”
    I scanned his face, to see if he was making fun of me. Mirth certainly played at the edges of his mouth, but there was nothing malicious or mean there. It was more like he got a kick out of me. I wondered what he would say to any of his black friends about me, if he ever talked with them about it. Would he tell them I was mixed and laugh with them about how my hair was too frizzy?? Did he compare the way I said “No,” to the way they said, “Hell naw,” and conclude it was because I was too white?
    â€¢ • •
    A few days later, Reggie and I ran in Bayard Park and then got breakfast at Bruegger’s Bagels. Running was training for baseball, so technically this too was between the foul lines. These were the spaces where I always felt most comfortable, most in my own skin. But then Reggie asked when he could meet my family.
    â€œMy family?” I asked as we ran through a small stand of trees. Maybe it was Dad that he really wanted to get to know. That had happened to me before, but it had been years.
    â€œYeah, you know—your mom, dad, Jason and your sister,” said Reggie. “What’s her name again?”
    â€œKit,” I said, pumping my arms harder.
    â€œYeah,” he said. “All of them. It would be great to meet them. My mom always says you don’t really know a person till you meet their family.”
    I could see a trickle of sweat slowly making its way down his forehead.
    Reggie’s mother, a paralegal at the district attorney’s office, had taken us to lunch the week before. Not once during the entire conversation did she say anything that let me know why she thought Reggie was hanging out with me. Were we friends? Something more?
    â€œLet me think about it,” I said. I hoped he would see I was uncomfortable with the idea and then just drop it. But that wasn’t what happened at all.
    We were half a mile from the end of the trail, but Reggie just stopped right there. “I don’t feel like running anymore. Got things to do at home.” His tone was clipped and agitated.
    He was about to turn around when I grabbed his arm. “Reg—what’s wrong?” I could feel the angry bulge in his bicep.
    When he faced me, his beautiful, kind eyes flashed with anger—something I’d never seen before.
    â€œNot once in the weeks we been together do you ever talk about introducing me to anyone. Not once do you even talk about your family and friends to me. Now … I don’t know if this is about you being embarrassed of me or what, but I want to know what the problem is.”
    My eyes were about to pop out of their sockets. I couldn’t help it; I started to laugh. “Me embarrassed of you ?”
    â€œWhat’s so goddamn funny?” he asked, staring me down. He was pissed.
    â€œI’m sorry—I just … The thought of me being embarrassed of you is just so