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My heart begins to pound, and eous, and even fro, square jaw, broad shoulders, and black-as-night hair He’s wearing a perfectly cut suit that skims his athletic frame, and his eyes pierce my heart even from a distance

But there’s nothing I can do I can’t throw myself at thishi I can do is to walk out of here with race and dignity, given the hopelessness of the situation

But as I depart the office, I can feel the forbiddingme in Who is he? Unfortunately, I’ll never know

3

Xavier

I knock on my son’s apartment door There’s no answer I knock harder Finally, so sounds take place and the door finally creaks open to reveal the clammy, chubby lump that is my son Kenneth

Sometimes, I wonder hoe can be related After all, Kenneth looks nothing like me I’m six foot four, with dark hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin Kenneth is about five foot nine, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and pink skin We don’t look like we share any genes whatsoever, much less that he could be descended from me

But it’s my ex-wife’s influence Honey was a pale blonde, just like Kenneth, and he’s inherited her peaches and cream complexion The problem is that on a woman, peaches and cream look attractive; on a man, peaches and cream just looks ridiculous

And that’s what Kenneth is at thismore than a little disheveled in his oversize t-shirt and track bottoms He opens the door a crack and peers at me suspiciously

“Hey Xavier,” he says sourly “What’s up?”

My eyebrows raise

“Why the cold greeting?” I ask “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

Kenneth peers around the hallway as if there are spies, and then nods

“In fact, you did,” he says “I was in thea movie Can you come back?”

“Which one?” I ask, ignoring his request

Kenneth grows red and stammers a bit

“It doesn’ta movie okay? Some World War II documentary put out by Netflix”

I shakemy eyes I can smell a lie fro a World War II documentary