‘Is fine with me, but you know how your father is,’ Maria agreed. ‘Can YOU ask him?’ Bobbi begged. ‘Roberta, what you think?’ Maria asked....‘When that little boy, what was his name, Tyrone? When that boy wanted to take you to the Sweetheart Dance, who asked your father, huh?’ ‘You did,’ Bobbi said and hugged her mother tightly. ‘This might be a little different, though,’ Maria warned. ‘This boy’s white, right? And he did call you…’ ‘Five years ago!’ Bobbi protested. ‘You know your father,’ Maria. He deserved a love like this, one where his wife loved him, as much as he loved her. Now, he wondered, if she wanted the same thing. She had said she did, but now, he was fraught with dread, that she might say no, when he proposed to her. He looked at her, sleeping peacefully nestled into the crook of his arm, her head resting on his chest. He kissed the top of her head gently, so as not to waken her and he let his thoughts wander to the life they would have together. She wouldn't. More

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