‘Yes. That’s what I think and that’s what I can’t get past, Bert. You didn’t trust me because I’m black. That’s what’s wrong here. And maybe that’s what’s wrong with America, too, but I don’t give a damn about what’s wrong with America. All I care about is how this affects me personally. I know I can’t live with it, Bert.’
The phone went silent.
‘You remember what we said after the first time we made love, Bert?’
‘Yes, I remember.’
‘I said, “Let’s give it an honest shot…’“
‘And I said, “Let’s.”‘
‘Bert,’ she said, and her voice caught. ‘You didn’t,’ she said, and hung up.
12.
AT 11:05 ON Sunday morning, the Fourth of July, Patricia Gomez rang the doorbell to Ollie’s apartment. She was wearing blue jeans, a white cotton blouse, and red sneakers, and she looked somewhat like a patriotic schoolgirl.
Ollie opened the door.
He honestly didn’t know whether the smile on his face was an anticipatory leer or just a happy welcoming grin.
‘Hey, Patricia,’ he said, ‘come on in.’
