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.The man glanced at me.“Got a new girlfriend, Eddie?” he asked.“Naw, this is Kathy,” said Eddie.“Kathy’s got too much class to be my girlfriend.”“Not surprising,” said the man.“Most any girl does.”Eddie mock-punched him on the shoulder.“Kathy, this is Buddy.You’ve got too much class to be his girlfriend, too, so don’t give him a chance.”Buddy picked out some satsumas, and I weighed them for him.Eddie threw in a spray of kumquats.Richard appeared in the arcade.“There’s my boyfriend,” I said.I introduced them.“How ya doin’?” said Eddie.“You want to take a break, Kathy?”“Just a few minutes to get a cup of coffee.”“You go ahead.I’ll mind the stand.Good to meet you,” he added in Richard’s direction.We walked past a praline store, where the plywood mammy sign made me cringe.In the Café Du Monde, we sat outside on iron chairs, leaning out of the waiter’s way as he plunked down our coffee and beignets.“How’s the job going?” Richard asked, pocketing his change.“Fine, I like Eddie.” I pulled my jacket a little tighter around me and quickly sipped the coffee to warm me up.“I got one today,” Richard smiled, but his face still looked strained and unhappy.“A job? Where?”“Store fixture place.I do the hardware.”It didn’t sound interesting to me.I couldn’t think of anything to say about the job.We were both quiet for a while, sipping coffee.“Listen, Kathy,” Richard said.“I did the best I could, but I’m not making much money.There just aren’t any good jobs for high school graduates.And we can’t bring up a baby in a rooming house.How in hell are we going to afford to live?”I checked the people at the next table.They didn’t seem to be paying attention.“I’m not going to talk about it.” I cut him off, sick and empty.He’s hinting at an abortion.He doesn’t want our child.Maybe he doesn’t want me either, anymore.The waiter brushed past us to take an order from another table.Richard ran his hand over his face, leaving a smear of powdered sugar on his chin.He leaned toward me, keeping his voice low.“Kathy, you don’t have the slightest idea about being a mother.Much less the mother of a black baby,” Richard said.“Think it over.You know you don’t have to keep it.”“I can’t believe you want me to get an abortion because our baby is black.” I turned away from him.“It’s not because the baby is black.It’s because you don’t know what you’re getting into.” He raised his voice as a bus roared by, and a group on the sidewalk peered our way.I looked at them, then sharply at him to warn him to keep his voice down.“That’s what my mother said about you and me.I never thought you’d be singing the same tune.”“That’s another thing—you aren’t going to get any grandmotherly help from her, that’s for sure.”“What about your mom?” I asked.Taboo subject.He drew back and said nothing.One of the Quarter’s tourist carriages stopped at the curb.Richard looked at the mule pulling it, and the mule looked at him.Their expressions aren’t all that different.“I’ll bet my parents get over it one second after they see their grandchild,” I said.“Any problem will be in the past, unless you hang onto it.”“Maybe so.But what about everyone else? What about the guy who ran us out of Baton Rouge?”“Guess we can’t ask him to babysit.So what?”“Kathy, this baby is black.I don’t think you understand what that means.”“What do you think I’m going to do? Have an abortion, walk away from you, and get on with my life as a white girl? That would be the stupidest, most awful thing I’ve ever done.No.”Richard shrugged.I didn’t know if I’d convinced him or if he was just giving up for the time being.We finished our coffee and walked to Eddie’s stand more or less reconciled.He gave me a quick hug and left me to get back to work.“That’s your boyfriend, huh?” asked Eddie.“Uh-huh.”He dragged out an open wood crate of lettuce and undid the wires.I started putting them into our display baskets while Eddie fetched a cardboard box.Rummaging in the box, Eddie pulled out a bunch of carrots and frowned at it.“He good to you?” he asked.“Oh, yes.Always.”Eddie looked after Richard.He shook his head.“I missed a lot.My mother wouldn’t have liked me to date a girl who wasn’t Catholic, let alone black or anything like that.I never liked any of the girls my mother liked.”“So, you never married?” I took the box of carrots and arranged bunches of them around the lettuces.“No, I lived with Mama till she passed away.Eighty-six, she was.” He sounded proud for a minute, then sad again.“I’m alone now.I wish I’d looked around more.I think your generation has it right.Stuff like that shouldn’t matter.”The lettuces were loose-headed, ruby leaf.The label on the box said “California.” Most of our produce was local, but I guessed it was too cold to grow lettuce around here now.Would California be a good place for us and our baby? Eddie was looking at me, waiting for me to say something.“Not everyone has it yet,” I told him.“We got chased out of Baton Rouge by someone who didn’t like to see a black guy and a white girl together.”“Don’t let it get you, doll,” Eddie said.“Think about the good people, let the others go.Just stay out of their way—some of those rednecks are dangerous.I’m not putting Baton Rouge down, but New Orleans is probably better for a couple like you and Richard.”“We kind of thought we might not be the oddest people in the Quarter,” I said.Eddie laughed.“That’s for sure!”“My father says it’s too soon for couples like us.”“No one wants to see their kids on the front lines, I guess.”That made me feel a little hopeful
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