I was an asshole. Got too involved with work. Spent endless nights out drinking with the boys. Slept around. Treated Ellen like a cheap accessory. She didn’t need that shit. She was a beautiful, intelligent, career-minded woman who could have had her pick of men. She chose me when I was young and passionate, prepared to listen to what she was saying and be there for her. When I hit the bottle and acted like a prick, she dumped me, the way any sane woman would.

The food arrived and we tucked in. We’d always shared a healthy appetite, so neither of us said much till the plates had been cleared.

I glanced around the restaurant, noting how few of my own race were present. The city opens its doors to people of all colors and creeds, but if you don’t think there’s a wide dividing line between whites and blacks, you’re living in a dream world. In the Golden Moon — a place of money and style — I stood out like a drag queen in a church choir.

“What’s the special occasion?” Ellen asked, burping lightly.

“Nothing. Just fancied a night out with the woman of my dreams.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Jeery,” she snorted. “I know how that mind of yours works — you don’t do nothing without a reason.” The double negative was an old joke between us. “Last time you invited me out on a date was the day our divorce went through. Need money? Representation?” She worked for a law firm, one of the best in the city.

“You know I wouldn’t come to you for that,” I said, upset that she’d think such a thing.

“I was joking,” she said, covering my big black knuckles with her small white fingers. “Don’t go getting precious on me, Al.”

I smiled, turned my hands around and tickled her palms the way she liked. “Know what day it is?”

“Monday.”

“Six months since the divorce was finalized.”

She frowned and calculated. “That was a Friday, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, but the date’s the same.”