”“She likes to throw that word around,” Mrs. Blanchard replied, shaking her head. “That was her mistake with my husband. When she called Kara ... slut, he became very angry. I suppose Kara told you what I said?”“Yes. But that’s really not relevant to my situation with Kara.”“It is from your mom’s point of view,” Mrs. Blanchard said gently.“True. But in your case, I don’t believe that your husband is being hypocritical. I believe, if pressed, he’d say that what the two of you did was wrong. My mom. But after I got on the squad I found out how thrillingand sexy athletes are. And when we rode on the same bus as the footballteam, I really got an education. I learned to overcome all my old racialprejudices. Black athletes really helped me appreciate the physicalnature of my being. Sitting close to them and feeling their soft lips onmy neck and their big hands between my legs, was like discovering mynervous and muscular systems for the first time. Black men helped meovercome so many stupid. ‘Are you sure? Who is this?’ ‘It’s Kitty!’ A long pause followed. You see, I was trying to remember meeting a Kitty. In the stripclub she had been Jasmine (sorry, I meant Ja-ja-ja-jasmine). When we checked her into urgent care, she had been Katherine. I don’t think she even mentioned that everyone called her Kitty. ‘Umm…’ ‘From the other night?’ ‘What other night? Like from Olive Garden?’ ‘Unless one of the strippers at Olive Garden did a faceplant into your lap, than no.’ She was starting to. How can one person have someone fall so helplessly for them? I aimlessly wander through the grass and weeds where we once walked side by side, hand in hand. A smile floods my lips as I once again can feel her hand in mine, walking straight for the tree that we sat under. I slowly slide to the ground staring up at the sky. I can feel her looking at me. But where is she? Why do I hope nothing more but to once again find her? My eyes slowly tear as I think of her kneeling in front of me staring.