the ordeal of being known

Jess

Jess was going through what he liked to call ‘a care burnout’.

This, as a concept in his head, made sense. A care burnout was when he spent a lot of time taking care of other people only to realize that not only did no one do the same for him, but that even if they tried, he wouldn’t let them.

He remembered the moment of realization he had when he was sixteen, months after what happened at school. His parents had gotten the flu at the same time. He had spent the whole day taking care of them; he made them soup, checked their temperature, tucked them in and got them medicine. It was the first time in months where they hadn’t looked at him like something horrible had happened.

They had looked at him like he was their beautiful boy again.

It was like he could breathe again. He realized how much power people gave to those who took care of them and he wanted that, so he took it.

He didn’t like to think about the walls that he had accidentally built over the years because of it. He didn’t like to think about how much anxiety it gave him to accept help, to let someone else see him in a position of vulnerability.

He had some of his team members over at his apartment the day before. Some of them were traveling, so it was quieter and more relaxed with it being the off-season. Kione, the team captain who happened to be his best friend, spent the night analyzing other teams because it always helped ease everyone’s nerves to know competition well, to voice out loud their thoughts and fears about the next season.

Kione was dressed casually in black—the only color on him was the pink durag he was wearing—his posture was rigid and Jess had a feeling there was a lot going through his mind. He’d known him since they were kids; he seemed more reserved than usual.

It was Kione’s dad, a former basketball legend, who taught them how to play. Kione was bigger and taller than Jess, which used to make Jess envious. So envious, he would spend the whole day being the most annoying opponent in the world, and he wouldn’t stop until Kione’s deep brown skin was shining with sweat and he was out of breath and calling for a break.

“You look distracted. Let me handle everything tonight,” Jess signed. Kione looked so relieved. When he opened his mouth, Jess knew he was going to lie, so he settled for glaring at his best friend, who nodded. Jess left him in the kitchen and went to talk to the rest of the team.

The whole team had learned sign language when Jess joined. He never expected them to. When they surprised him, his parents cried like babies. He still felt emotional thinking about it.

At the end of the gathering, when everyone left, he found it so hard to go to bed, knowing it was empty. He was feeling loneliness in bigger waves these days. He wished he had someone who could see right through him and sometimes, he hated himself a little for it. It felt like a weakness.

Jess to the audience: *sheepishly* My dating history isn’t the best.

Dating when you’re getting a lot of media attention in general is not easy. When he made the team, he avoided the attention as much as he could. People had taken to calling him a charity case, saying he got in with daddy’s money, which isn’t true at all. 

Jess to the audience: Everyone knows my mom is the rich one.

He had to work a lot to prove them wrong, which was fine by him. But they still came up with insane rumors that affected whoever he was dating at the time. Rumors about his sex life, rumors about him being an alcoholic.

Unfortunately, almost all of his former love interests followed online rumors too closely. Whenever he tried to defend himself, they would simply turn their back on him and close their phone. It would end the conversation because, in doing so, they’d take his way of communication.

He remembered how he didn’t really understand it the first time it happened, that the girl had meant to shut him up. It was, and still is, a humiliation that he had to deal with a lot.

He learned how to read body language pretty well. He could always tell how someone was reacting to him. He could almost always tell when someone was going to turn their back on him. When they decide to cut off eye contact so that they didn’t have to look at him anymore, when they realized that they would always have more power in the conversation.

It’s safe to say he hasn’t dated in a while.

He decided to end the pity party because he had reached Amir’s diner. As soon as he walked in, he spotted a head of red hair tucked in the corner. It was empty, so it was hard to miss her.

He typed his order on his phone to show it to the waiter, then made his way to the booth. When he sat down, she looked startled at first, then she relaxed.

“I’m Layla,” she said.

He already knew this. Jess assumed she knew his name, so he gave a small nod. He took a moment to look at her. Mateo talked about Layla a lot since she was basically family to him.

Layla wasn’t really involved in sports, so he knew for a fact her knowledge about the Lakers was limited. Mateo had mentioned she stopped going online unless it was to post her work. The media had a label for her. She was their “mean girl”. There were many elements that fed the media’s narrative about her. Matteo, being the gossip king, had told us all about using a presentation on presentation night. He went into a lot of details about how anyone who disliked his best friend disliked her because of sexism.

At the same time, it was the same people who hated on her online that ate hungrily at any crumbs they got from her. They analyzed every piece she worked on; they hung onto every word out of her mouth.

A couple of months ago, Layla had released an animated short film that she designed, following the story of queer people who lived in countries where being LGBTQ was forbidden by law.

It was right after some popular director and an animation supervisor had announced that they had plans to work with her, then they made statements calling her mean, demanding, and full of herself, and went as far as to say she had ruined the project.

People believed them. Despite being called terrible names online for months, Layla did not comment. Then she released a short film on YouTube. She had worked on almost everything on her own. The voice actors were herself, some of Jess’s teammates, Matteo’s family and friends. Celia’s team somehow got a famous K-pop idol to write two songs just for the film.

The film was sad, beautiful, and emotional. It almost reached a billion views and earned her a shit-ton of money, along with so many new opportunities.

At the end it said: Thank you to everyone who made this happen and helped me. I hope this proves to certain people that projects about queer stories are worth telling and that we need to remain respectful when we’re telling these stories.

It was leaked then, that the script that was given to her a while ago was very offensive, which was why she refused to work on it, and the director told her she was never going to be successful.

People talked about it often. She has many projects announced that she wants to release over the course of four years. That project was her first one as an animator and it put her on the map.

Her hair was tied up, a blush tainted her olive skin, along with red on her lips. Jess knew it was her favorite because he was one of her million followers and an admirer. She had brown eyes—he had a soft spot for big brown eyes—they were the kind that had the power to make a person’s heart melt. Her posture was tense and stiff; she was also frowning.

He realized he’d been staring at her for a while when she cleared her throat. She looks annoyed.

“I asked you a question.”

Jess to audience: Did she?

He took his phone to type down what he wanted to say, and he fumbled a little bit. He had no idea why he felt so nervous.

She had stood up to leave. He quickly wrote down that he didn’t mean to arrive late. He gently took her wrist and shook his head. She tensed at the contact; he pointed at her phone when it lit up with a text.

‘I didn’t mean to be late. My gym was a little crowded today. Don’t leave. I’ll make it quick.’

“I’m not leaving, I only just got here myself,” she said, and then she rolled her eyes. Her body lost some of the tension as soon as he let go of her hand. He noticed some scars on her hand that looked a lot like scratch marks.

Maybe she had a cat, he thought. But they look bigger that what a cat would cause.

She noticed him staring and put her hands on her lap. She looked uncomfortable.

“I just wanted to place my order. Do you prefer I text you or talk out loud?” she asked as the waiter brought his order with a pink milkshake for Layla.

‘I would prefer it if you spoke.’

“Mateo didn’t mention what kind of commission you wanted.”

He explained to her that his mom was one of her biggest fans. Jess liked her art; he always thought her concept ideas were fascinating. Jess’s mother had bought a number of her works and had them displayed all over the house.

‘I want you to paint my parents together; maybe have them stargazing? I don’t know, really. You could do whatever you want and she’ll love it. It’s for her birthday.’

“Do you have a picture of them together?” she asked.

He showed her one of his favorite pictures—one he took himself when they thought he was sleeping. He had been going downstairs to grab a cup of water and saw them dancing in the living room. No music on, but his father was humming out loud. They were both laughing.

“This is really them?” she asked. There was a sad look in her eyes, but it was gone with a blink of an eye.

He nodded, and she stared at the picture for a little longer.

“You took this?”

Again, he nodded.

‘Her birthday is in three months,’ he wrote in his notebook.

“What’s it like having parents so obviously in love?” she asked, her eyes still on the screen.

‘They’re disgusting actually (affectionately) I’ve caught them making out in the most inappropriate places,’ he writes, but he’s unable to hold back his grin. Layla’s eyes soften.

They don’t talk a lot beyond the commission. She explained a couple of ideas she had and said she’d show him a sketch later; that he could change anything he didn’t like.

The way Mateo talked about Layla was very different from what Jess had seen. Her body was tense, and she startled if there was any loud noise in the diner. He noted this because he, too, would startle at the noise. But they had different reasons for that reaction, he guessed.

He wondered what it would be like to not be considered a stranger by her, to be let into her circle.

Layla scrolled through her iPad. Jess stared at the sketch she had been working on before he arrived.

“What’s this?” he asked her.

“It’s just a scene from the book I’m reading.”

“What book?”

“Carmilla.”

Jess to the audience: Coincidentally, I had a special edition of Carmilla in my bag that day. I think a part of me took it as a sign.

Layla opened her mouth to say something—probably to say goodbye—but she was interrupted by the sound of her phone ringing. Not a second later, a text lit up Jess’s phone. Her face paled, and he knew she’d received the same news as him.

Mateo was in the hospital.