After what seemed like a lifetime, it was dawn: still no phone call. I cold no longer resist. I called her number. There was no answer. In a panic, I ...as now beginning making plans to get back home to check on her. As I did so, I received a text message which read: “Do not worry. I am alright. I will call you tomorrow.”I questioned to myself the authenticity of the text message, but what could I really do? Call the police and tell them what was going on? I had no evidence that my wife did not. She can't play jazz. She doesn't have any rhythm."She burned with humiliation, and for a moment could not speak.A black boy on the far end of the saxophone line could not let that rest. "How would you know? You're a white boy, and everyone knows white boys ain't got rhythm."The boy next to the first one snickered. He was white, but apparently the jibe didn't bother him.It was the first boy's turn to color red. "She's still white."Finally Gertrude was able to find her voice. "He's having trouble. But I knew I had to face this new trial. Behind me were Momo and Sonja, Momo’s ears twitching from her curiosity and Sonja growling and fighting her instincts to bark and yell.I opened the door of the shed and my palms met my face. “Goddammit, this isn’t funny anymore!”Crouching in the back of the shed, surrounded by overturned firewood, was a small girl, drop-dead beautiful. With short white hair and waxy skin, she almost looked like a ghost. On the sides of her head were two fuzzy ears like. I am sure she would manage no matter what, but being open in front of the seat was enough for one morning.I would hate for her vulnerability and openness to go to waste. I decided to see if I could embrace slut as Lord Oliver and my mother requested.I splashed my hands in the warm bucket of pee. Even that was a statement from my mother, from those who brought it here, and from everyone involved. They wanted to share a visceral aspect of their experience with me and to physically offer the.