Frank lifted sandy-brown eyebrows. “I’m thirty-seven, single, and I don’t have any kids.”
“Were you ever married?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“So, you are content being a bachelor?” Justine teased.
“I like being a bachelor,” Frank countered.
“Is it because you don’t want the responsibility of being a husband and father?”
Placing his fork beside his plate, Frank wiped his mouth with a napkin. “It has nothing to do with not wanting to be responsible. It’s because I haven’t found a woman I want to share and spend my life with.” He paused. “There was someone many years ago, but her father didn’t want her to have anything to do with me.” He held up a hand. “And before you ask, we were teenagers, so her family packed up her things and sent her down to Georgia to live with relatives.”
Leaning back in her chair, Justine gave him a long, penetrating stare. In that instant, it dawned on her why he’d bought the typewriter, and why he was sitting at her table. “She was a Black girl?”
He nodded.
“You like Black women.”
Frank gave Justine a look that made men who knew him fear for their lives, but it was lost on her. “Do you expect me to deny it?”
“No, Frank. I don’t. You can’t help what you like.”
He slowly blinked. “And what about you, Justine? What men are you attracted to?”
“Black men, but that doesn’t translate into me being a racist. I’m troubled about what’s going on in our country when it comes to race. I keep asking myself why my people are begging for the same rights given to them by the Constitution that all citizens have by virtue of their birthright. Wealways find ourselves at the bottom of the ladder whenever other groups come here for freedom or a better way of life.”
“Black people aren’t the only ones who have faced discrimination, Justine. My people have been called wop and goombah more times than I can count. And then there are certain neighborhoods where we aren’t allowed to live.”
“As they say, Frank, you are preaching to the choir. It’s the same with Black folks, and that’s why people congregate in ghettos, so they can feel comfortable living with others who not only look like them but share a similar culture. Black people have fought and died in wars even before this country became the United States, and yet when people see someone who looks like Kenny’s father, they tell him he can’t live where he wants or he can’t sit at a lunch counter with White folks, even though he risked his life to fight in Korea to stop the spread of Communism. Where is the justice, Francis?”
Frank noticed her eyes filling with tears, and something wouldn’t allow him to get up and comfort her, because he knew instinctively, she would resent it. He’d heard it said over and over to stay away from talking about religion and politics, while they’d ventured into the dangerous waters of the latter.
“I’m not going to apologize for being attracted to Black women, but hopefully that won’t encroach on our friendship.” A hint of a smile touched the corners of Justine’s mouth, one he wanted to kiss just once to assuage his curiosity whether it would be as soft as it looked.
“You don’t have to apologize. If my son and your nephew can be friends, then it shouldn’t be any different with us.”
Frank exhaled an inaudible sigh of relief. It had been more than twenty years since he’d had his heart broken when the girl with whom he had fallen in love was sent into exile because her family didn’t want her involved with an Italian boy.
“I’m glad you said that.”
“By the way, were you and your girl dating openly?” Justine asked.
“No. We shared a few classes in high school, but we managed to get together for a couple of after-school clubs. It was when my best friend saw us together, he decided to tell my father, and then all hell broke loose. Word got back to her parents, and that’s when they decided to send her away. I’m certain my father would’ve attempted to beat me like he did my sisters, but by that time, I was a lot taller, and my body was filling out, so I was ready to retaliate if he raised his hand. Once he found out she was no longer in the school, he let it go. I waited several days after graduating to teach my friend a lesson about opening his mouth.”
“What did you do?”
“Just say I cured him of gossiping.”
“What did you do to him, Frank?” Justine repeated.
“I punched him in the mouth.”
What he didn’t want to tell her was that he’d beat the living shit out of him; he’d broken his nose and knocked out a few teeth. It had been his first street fight, and it had left him feeling invincible. The word went out in the neighborhood not to mess with Frankie Delano, because he was as vicious as an attack dog.
“If he hadn’t said anything about you and your girlfriend, would that have changed anything?”
Frank nodded. “We’d made plans to go to Canada after graduating. Once in Montreal, we’d get married and start a family, because we both knew it wouldn’t be easy living here in the States as an interracial couple.”
