"Why?"

Keegan slammed her chart closed. "Because you're real good with the mind fuck."

FIFTY-ONE.

Sondra stubbed her cigarette out on the sidewalk as she waited for Kevin outside of Wishbone in the West Loop. Kevin had said it was a favorite of his. She smiled and waved to him as he ambled over to meet her.

"Hi. Been waiting long?"

"Just long enough for a smoke. I'm glad I called for a reservation. This is a pretty hopping place."

He opened the door and ushered Sondra inside. "This is nothing. You should see it on weekends when they do brunch. It's crazy."

"Well, I'm excited to try it."

"I'm glad you called. I kind of needed to get out of the house."

"Well, I'm kind of looking forward to a few minutes where I'm not thinking about Tracy or Phillip or any of it, so I called you for a selfish reason."

Kevin laughed as the hostess seated them. "Well, go ahead and use me. So nothing new, huh?"

"Nada. How has your family been dealing with this?"

"Not good. Like we were talking about the other day, it just brings everything up all over again. Carol's mom has really had a hard time, of course."

"You know what? Let's change the subject."

Kevin smiled and nodded. "Of course."

They busied themselves looking over the menu and slurping down sweet tea. After the waitress took their order, Kevin hunched over the table and looked at Sondra.

"So, I don't think I asked, but are you from Chicago?"

"No, we grew up in California-Stanford. Our mom was on the German Olympic team for swimming and my dad is a professor of cultural studies at Stanford. Written a lot books. Gordon Ellis?"

Kevin's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Gordon Ellis is your dad?"

"Yeah."

Kevin leaned back in his chair, floored. "Man, I've probably read Hip Hop State of Mind a hundred times. More."

Sondra smiled. "Yeah. That one's my personal favorite. I could probably snag an autographed copy for you."

"Wow, that would... wow. Thank you."

"Sure."

"And your mom went to the Olympics?"

"Bronze in sixty, silver in sixty-four."

"So, how did they meet?"

Sondra shifted in her seat. "Well, Daddy is from Alabama and he went to Emory for undergrad and got the opportunity to study abroad in Paris one summer. French Cinema. Mommy was in Paris visiting her sister and they were each sitting at a cafe one afternoon drinking coffee. Their eyes met and as the saying goes, they've been together ever since."

"Wow. That's beautiful."

"Yeah. Good model. Even if Tracy and I had trouble following it."

"I'm still trying to get over your family... You do documentaries, your mom did the Olympic thing, your dad does his thing and Tracy was a news producer?" Kevin let out a low whistle. "I'm trippin'."

Sondra shrugged. "Oh. Yeah. I don't know. I guess we just all kind of did what we wanted and turned out to be pretty successful at it." Sondra gestured toward Kevin. "What about you? What do you do?"

"Nothing nearly as cool as your family. I'm a social worker for the Chicago Public School system."

Sondra nodded, impressed. "Tough line of work. Very admirable. You've got to have nerves of steel for that one I'd imagine."

Kevin rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, that, or oatmeal for brains."

Sondra laughed. "Oh, come on. It can't be that bad."

"You know, I love the work-I do-but man, there are days when it takes all I have to get out of bed."

"If you didn't have to work, what would you do?"

Kevin thought about for a moment. "Pitch a tent on a beach in the Bahamas and sell tacky souvenirs."

Sondra grinned. "Sounds nice."

"Yeah. Pipe dream." Kevin plunked his chin down in one hand and studied Sondra.

"Was it hard growing up bi-racial?" he asked.

Sondra didn't flinch; she was so used to the question after all these years. "Um, you know sometimes, yeah. Like I said, daddy's family is from the deep, deep South and never understood why he married some Amazon German woman. Mimi's family always referred to my father as the 'Negro' who gave her 'Negro babies.' And you know here's my white mother carting her brown babies all over Stanford. People always thought she was our babysitter. But, you know what? I wouldn't change a thing."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Absolutely. I'm proud of who I am and who my parents are. They loved, and still love, each other tremendously and Tracy and I really benefited from that. They exposed us equally to both sides of our culture and I think we came out okay."

"Carol's mom is black and her dad was white. She never knew her father and she was always really messed up about being mixed. It took her a long time to feel comfortable about herself."

"How did you two meet?"

He chuckled. "She was my bank teller."

"Cute, very cute."

"Yeah, that's when she was working out South before she got promoted and moved to the downtown branch. Anyway, I finally had to ask her out, because I almost went broke since I was going to the bank everyday to withdraw money just so I could see her."

Sondra laughed. "I'm glad she said yes."

"Me too."

The waitress came over with their dinner-Louisiana Chicken Salad for Sondra, brisket for Kevin. In between devouring their food, they discussed everything from their childhoods to favorite movies to New York versus Chicago.

"When are you heading home?" Kevin asked as they sipped after-dinner coffee.

"I think tomorrow night. There's really nothing left for me to do here, so I might as well head home."

Kevin nodded his head as he absorbed this. "That's too bad. I've really enjoyed getting to know you."

Sondra looked at Kevin, catching the twinge in his voice. "Kevin... it would be too weird. Your wife, my sister... "

He smiled. "Oh, I know. I know. I guess I just feel some kind of bond to you, considering."

"Me too. But friends?" Sondra held up her pinky.

"Friends," Kevin said as he hooked his little finger through hers.

After Kevin insisted on picking up the tab, the two stepped out into the humid Chicago night.

"Can I give you a lift back to your hotel? It's kind of hard to get cabs around here."

Sondra smiled. "You know, I think I'll walk? It's such a nice night and I just need to be alone with my thoughts."

Kevin hung his head down for a moment before looking Sondra squarely in the eye. "The last time I let a woman go out at night, she never came back."

Sondra released the breath she didn't know she'd been holding and smiled. "Okay," she whispered. "Thanks."

FIFTY-TWO.

Cindy Cross stood in her kitchen staring out of her yellow and blue curtain-framed window watching Paula's house. It was late, but the light was still on. She wondered what was going on over there. She felt her husband slip a hand around her size two waist and nestle against her neck.

"The kids are asleep and the kitchen and living room are clean. What do you say we go upstairs and get dirty?"

Cindy laughed as Chris began to nibble on her ear and his hand flicked across her nipple. "Mmmm, that sounds good," she said as she reached back and ran her fingers through his thick golden hair. He turned her around and they began to kiss each other hungrily in the middle of their kitchen. They pulled back and Cindy rested her head on her husband's chest, her eyes focused in the direction of Paula's house.

"Still thinking about this morning?" Chris asked.

Cindy let out a deep sigh. "Yeah. In some ways, she reminds me of my mother."

"What, crazy you mean?"

Cindy tried to suppress her knowing giggle. "Stop it. No, you know how socially awkward my mother is."

"True."

"On the other hand, I can't decide if she's a battered wife or what the deal is. It's like she's both afraid of her husband and worships him at the same time. Isn't that usually how it is with domestic abuse victims?"

"You already tried the cops and unless you actually see something-"

"I know, I know. They can't do anything."

"Maybe you should go over there tomorrow. See if you can get her to open up to you."

Cindy snorted. "In one morning?"

"Sometimes, if you ask even the most tightly wound people the right question they'll tell you everything."

Cindy pulled her head back, looked at Chris and smiled. "You're right. She probably wants help and doesn't know how to ask. I'll go over first thing. Now-" Cindy gave Chris a knowing look. "I've got something for you in the bedroom."

"Now you're talkin'. Last one to bed has to beg."

Cindy let out a yelp and with a giggle, started to run upstairs, her husband hot on her tail.

FIFTY-THREE.

He'd taken Tracy to visit his mother once. It was right after they'd gotten engaged, and Phillip was eager for his mother to meet the woman he'd fallen in love with. The Alzheimer's had hijacked many of Betty Pearson's brain cells, though on occasion, glimpses of his beloved mother would shine through.

When Betty laid eyes on Tracy, she lit up like Times Square. Phillip could see it in her eyes; she never imagined her plain, awkward son would have such a beautiful girl on his arm. She fawned all over Tracy's filmy blue print blouse and simple black skirt. She wanted to rub the silky ends of Tracy's "good hair" beneath her fingers and couldn't get over how smooth and clear her complexion was. As was her nature, Tracy was so sweet to Betty, answering each of his mother's prying questions with grace and humor and even complimenting her on the spring green dress she wore. Betty had been delighted with the purple cashmere wrap Tracy had presented to her for her birthday, her eyes filling with tears as Tracy folded the soft material around her frail shoulders. She bragged she'd be the envy of Sunny Shores.

It was true that Betty had passed not too long after Tracy had died-that wasn't bullshit. So what if he'd fudged the dates a little bit? Nobody would know any different. Much like he'd done for his wife, he chose cremation for Betty and scattered her ashes in Lake Michigan, the same spot where his father rested in peace.

Even if she hadn't died, he knew he still would have hidden behind his mother to carry out his delicate mission. Her mind was so far gone, she barely recognized Phillip. She never would have been able to give any details about how often he visited or what her health was like. Not that he expected anyone to come snooping around.