Justine slowly shook her head. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you and your girlfriend.”
A wry smile twisted Frank’s mouth. “Some things are just not meant to be. Like you losing your husband before he could celebrate becoming a father.”
Justine didn’t know why, but at that moment, she felt like a hypocrite and that she was going to be punished for being so deceitful. She’d lied to Pamela Daniels, and now she was lying to Francis D’Allesandro, two people who didn’t deserveher insincerity. Pamela, who’d been there for her before and after she’d had her son, and now Frank, who’d gifted her a typewriter that would make it a lot easier for her to type papers for those paying her for her skills.
Then there was her son, who didn’t know he had a twin brother, and who believed his father had become a victim of a crime before his birth. Justine wondered how much longer she would have to carry the burden of lies and guilt before it all became too much for her to continue where she would be forced to reveal the truth.
She hadn’t felt the guilt with Pamela, because she knew their friendship had a time limit; however, it was different with Francis. Justine couldn’t just pick up and move so she could keep her secret, because she’d have to come up with another reason or excuse why she couldn’t continue to live where she was. Local officials were talking about an urban renewal project that would raze four blocks to put up co-op apartment developments, and her tenement building was part of the projected plans. She was barely able to pay her rent and knew there was no way she could save enough money to purchase an apartment, even one as small as a studio unit. The other alternative was to move into public housing, something Justine didn’t want. And if she was forced to move, then she hoped it would be after Kenny completed the ninth grade. Then he could go to a high school where he could make new friends.
“I’ve gotten used to it being just me and Kenny,” she said after a lengthy pause.
“Are you saying you’re never lonely?” Frank asked, his blue eyes boring into her.
“Lonely how?” Justine didn’t know why she continued answering his query with a question. “Are you talking about male companionship?”
Frank nodded.
“I don’t miss what I don’t have. It’s been more than a decade since I shared a bed with a man.”
“Don’t you have urges?”
This was a question Justine didn’t how to answer. She’d slept with Dennis Boone twice, and at no time had she felt a modicum of passion when he’d had sex with her. However, there were occasions when her body betrayed her, and it was several days before she saw her menses. It was when her breasts were more sensitive, and she was unable to ignore the pulsing between her legs that made her bite her lip to keep from moaning.
“Yes, Frank. I have urges.”
“But you don’t do anything about them.” His question was a statement.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t.”
“Why can’t you?”
“Because I promised myself I wouldn’t get involved with a man until Kenny goes to college.”
“But that’s another five years.”
Justine almost laughed when she saw an expression of shock sweep over Frank’s features. There was nothing remarkable about his face, and his appearance would have been nondescript if not for his eyes. They were an odd shade of blue. They weren’t sky blue, or sapphire, but what she thought of as a medium blue mixed with a small amount of green. She’d purchased fabric with the same color labeledcornflower.
“Almost thirteen down and five to go,” she said jokingly, and laughed. Frank’s laughter joined hers, and both were unaware when the front door opened before they realized they were not alone.
“Mom?”
“Kenny, I didn’t hear you come in.” Justine saw her son staring at Frank, who stood up.
“Hello, Mr. Dee.”
Frank nodded. “Kenny.”
“Mr. D’Allesandro came to bring me a—”
“That’s okay, Mom,” Kenny said, interrupting her. “You don’t have to explain why he’s here. Frankie told me his uncle likes Black women. So, it’s all right with me if he wants to date you.”
Justine stared at Kenny as if he were a stranger. She had no idea he’d known of his friend’s uncle’s proclivity for Black women. “We’re still eating, so do you want me to fix you a plate?” she offered, after finding her voice.
“No thanks. After the movie, we stopped and ate pizza. I’m going to change my clothes, then watch television. It’s nice seeing you again, Mr. Dee.”
