Page 16 of Lovetown, USA
“Well, when in Rome,” she breezes. “Lean in. Look for love. Maybe even find it.”
“Britt, when you were using all those adjectives…and thanks for the almost forty, by the way.”
“Sorry.”
“Mm hm. When you were listing all those adjectives, you forgotBlack.”
“What does that have to do with—“
“Everything,” I say. “Do you not remember the trend a few years ago? When the media was obsessed with black women’s marriage rates?”
“I do…” she says slowly.
I wait a beat. “Do you not see where I’m going with this?”
She blows out a sigh. “I’m not saying you have to get married. All I’m saying is we want you to treat this like an ethnography. Get your ass in there! Get off the bench!”
I’m quiet for a long time. Like, Sunday at church long.
“Got it,” I finally say. “I will get out there and do as the Romans do.”
Britt squeals. “This is going to be so good. I’m scheduling a photographer for headshots and a few snaps of you out and about. We’ll launch next week and go from there.”
“Cool.”
“In the meantime, keep sending your notes.”
“Britt…be honest with me, okay?”
“Of course.”
“Will this…” I shake my head, closing my eyes as I ready myself to hear the answer I know is coming. “Will this help?”
Now, she’s quiet.
My heart pounds. My breathing turns shallow. Even though I know what she’s gonna say, because she says it every time, I still get anxious.
“I don’t know.”
Once again, I bristle at her honesty.
“But it definitely can’t hurt.”
5
Trey
The smell of sugarand chocolate fills my kitchen on this lovely Tuesday evening. I hit the button to turn the oven light on, checking my masterpieces.
I stare at them for a moment as they bake on their tray. Only my buzzing phone pulls my attention away.
Fuck.
It’s Desiree.
I stare at my screen for a moment, debating my next move like I always do when my ex-wife decides to interrupt my day.
I could let it ring.
