Free The End of the Line by Jim Power Page B

river. Latesha
stopped beside him and smiled at their loud singing. Together they looked like
children discovering something new and wondrous, and what it made it even more
special was that their relationship was new and wondrous. Where it would lead,
no one knew, but just being with him was pleasing to Latesha. She felt a timid
rapture, an innocent joy never before experienced.
    Latesha
suddenly became flustered and made a strange face. “Excuse me. I shouldn’t be
talking so openly about my personal life.” Her expression grew solemn. “I don’t
know what got into me.” She pointed at the Beechwood Community Center. “We’re
in the process of renovating our center. Everyone’s pitching in.”
    “Are
you doing anything?”
    “Yes,”
she said with an embarrassed laugh, still hyper-conscious of his presence and
every word he spoke.
    “Why
did you laugh?”
    Latesha
rolled her eyes. “I’m just trying to figure out how I came to be walking to the
store with you. You’re a complete stranger to me.”
    “Not
a complete stranger,” Peter said with a soft smile. “We have a history, an
entertaining one at that, and we’ve spoken at length. You know how I feel about
things. I told you.”
    “I
suppose you did,” she replied thoughtfully.
    “So,”
Peter continued, “what’s your contribution to the community center?”
    “A
private citizen donated the bulk of the money for the renovations, but she
stipulated that we have to perform her favorite play on her birthday. That’s
September twenty-seventh, fourteen days from now. Unfortunately, the director
quit and left, so I agreed to take over, if you can believe that.”
    “What
play are you doing?”
    “ Romeo and Juliet .”
    “Oh,”
Peter said with a sigh. “I’ve seen posters on the university campus that looked
remarkably similar to those for the Forevermore Matchmaking Service. Would it
be presumptuous of me to assume they were created by the same person?”
    “It
was me,” she confessed.
    “A
matchmaker and a director,” he noted in a playful way. “You’re obviously very
ambitious.”
    “Or
foolhardy,” Latesha said. “I haven’t seen any of the rehearsals or heard one
actor recite so much as a single line.” She looked at him as if seeking
reassurance. “Was I crazy to take this on, or was I crazy?”
    Peter
laughed boisterously. “You’ll be fine.”
    Latesha
felt more comfortable with each passing stride and consciously enjoyed every
moment. Their light banter was fun and natural, and everything between them
just seemed to click into place, like some kind of inexplicable magic trick
which cannot be explained.
    Latesha,
seeing him up close, now concluded that he was the most handsome man she had
ever seen. But his attractiveness far exceeded his physical characteristics. It
was his style, his intelligence, his self-assurance, that so deeply affected
her. He was polite. He strolled with a relaxed gait, moving in synchrony with
her, not overwhelming, not holding her back, just calm, soft, gentle.
    “It’s
a beautiful evening,” Latesha said with a nice smile as she glanced at him.
    “It’s
wonderful,” he replied with no effort to conceal his pleasure.
    She
smiled again but did not speak. They approached the community center and some
of the boys playing street hockey started heatedly arguing over whether a shot
had been a goal or not. Latesha immediately walked up to them and addressed
them in a maternal voice. The goal, or non-goal, was immensely important to
them, however, and the dispute threatened to become serious. Though all of them
were surprised to see a man with Latesha, especially a white man, the
controversy at hand was of far more concern.
    Peter
noticed a tear in the webbing. “The ball may have gone through,” he said,
showing them the hole. “This has to be fixed.”
    The
boys inspected it, saw the tear for the first time, and agreed that the hole
may have caused the problem. Latesha held an impromptu summit,