I’ve loved roller skating since I was a teenager. Now, I still go at least once a week. It’s Sunday afternoon and I’m enjoying a relaxing time at the local skating rink with my son.

My name is Malik. I’m 41, a widower, Black American male, 6’ 3”, and 220 pounds. I’m an Air Force pilot stationed in North Carolina just outside of Fayetteville. My wife of 20 years passed last year from breast cancer. I miss her. I really miss her. For a long time after she died, I didn’t go out, but have, in the last few months, started to do more. Other than dating that is. I’m not ready for that.

I have a 17 year old son, Desmond. He was named after Desmond Tutu, who my wife thought was the most amazing, history maker in recent times. Desmond’s a good kid, a junior in high school, plays football, and has quite the female following. For a 17 year old, he takes after his Dad. He’s 5’ 11”, 190 pounds, and built like a concrete building.

Anyway, just because I’m not dating doesn’t mean I’m dead, so I was noticing a really pretty white girl out skating with a younger version of herself, probably her daughter. She was a stunner, maybe 5’7”, 120 pounds, long strawberry-blonde hair, wearing shorts and a T-shirt that made her look even sexier. The daughter looked to be about Desmond’s age and was a carbon copy of her Mom, except that she didn’t smile much or talk to anyone. I found out later that Mom’s name is Candy and the daughter is Alicia, but everyone calls her Missy.

As skating rinks do, they started playing some disco dance songs that were good for skate dancing. So, what the heck. I asked her if she wanted to skate together through the dance songs. Candy said, “sure”. Desmond asked Missy also, but she sort of threw her nose up at him, got off the floor, and went to the snack bar, alone.

Candy and I hit it off right away and skated together for the rest of the afternoon. When our session ended, I asked Candy if she and Missy would like to go out to dinner with Desmond and I. She said, “sure”, saying her sister had dropped them off because she didn’t have a car.

When Candy told Missy about dinner, Missy didn’t exactly blow a gasket, but you could tell she wasn’t pleased. She got Candy off to the side and thought we could not hear what she whispered, but we did. “I don’t want to go out with ‘them’ “, she said. “Can’t I take a taxi home”?

Candy told her “no way”, that they were going out to dinner with us and, if Candy didn’t want to do that, she could sit in the car while we ate. I was kind of surprised at both of their attitudes, Missy’s apparent racism and Candy’s lack of tolerance towards her daughter, but I assumed there was some history there.

We went to a local seafood restaurant for dinner. Candy and I chatted away, getting to know each other, while Missy sat silent, not engaging with Desmond at all.

Candy, it turns out, is separated from her husband who is abusive to her. In ‘good old boy’ North Carolina, they require married people who don’t want to be married, to stay married for a year, living separately, before they can get a divorce. Why? Who knows. So, Candy and Missy live with her sister. Candy works in a local doctor’s office as a receptionist and Missy actually went to the same high school that Desmond did.

When we brought them home, Missy jumped out of the car right away and headed for the house; I sent Desmond after her, just to make sure she got in the door OK. Candy and I had a chance to talk, so I asked her, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure, what.”

“What’s the deal with Missy? She seems really hard to get along with.”

Candy started to tear up some. “She’s been mad at me ever since the separation. Even when he put me in the hospital, she took his side. Now, she can’t get along with anyone. Can you believe it, even with the way she looks, she can’t keep a boyfriend. And, her mouth is horrible. She can’t see that I’m looking out for her.”

“Wow, that’s a shame.”

“I need to apologize to Desmond too for the way she’s treated him. Her Dad is a ‘born and bred redneck’ who thinks black people have a place in the World, just nowhere near him and she acts the same way.”

“No, it’s OK. Desmond has run into people like her before. He knows how to deal with it.”

I gathered all my strength and said, “Look, ah, I haven’t dated since my wife died, but if you’re interested...”

She leaned over and kissed me, closed mouth but a kiss, and said, “I’d love to. I want to tell you though. I’ve never dated a black man before.”

I laughed and said, “well, we’re even then because I’ve never dated a white girl before.”

And, with that, she left me her phone number, got out of the car, and went into the house. Desmond had politely stayed outside the car while we talked and, when she got out, he got in.

I asked him, “Well, what do you think?”

“The daughter is a bitch that I want nothing to do with, but if her Mom makes you happy, I’ll figure a way to deal with Missy. Maybe she’s trainable,” and he laughed.

So, it began. Candy and I started seeing each other, more and more often, and figured out we were really good, emotionally, for each other. There’d been no sex yet and I wasn’t bringing it up. Missy and Desmond were always with us since Candy wasn’t comfortable leaving her home alone. They tolerated each other, but there didn’t seem to be any chemistry between them at all.

That was, until, about two months later.

It was a Friday night and we were dropping the girls off at the sister’s house. We’d been out to dinner and a movie and were having a good evening.

Out of the shadows, came Candy’s husband, big, and drunk. He was walking quickly towards her, screaming, “So, you’re running around with ‘N’...”

He only got the ‘N’ out when an uppercut just under his ribcage dropped him to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Only, it wasn’t me. When Desmond saw him coming, he had stepped in front of the girls and dropped him with one punch.