He snarled his goodbye and slammed the metal door on their marriage. It had taken Shaquan a year to save up for that guitar, which dangled from a hook...in the window of the pawn shop at Seventh and Third, but double that time for him to compose the one tune that would end up stringing together another woman who had fallen to pieces like a neglected antique doll. Hearing Shaquan’s construction boots thudding on the main floor two flights down, she recalled how her heart was beat out of her chest. I don’t consider myself worthy of her yet. So I let her go. She hates me for it, and she doesn’t think I’m shit now. She went back to her family, who welcomed her with open arms now that she was without me. My own family was not so forgiving. My mother Astrid considered my romance with Monique, my attempt at joining Monique’s family and my fascinating with their lifestyle to be the ultimate betrayal of everything she taught me. She claimed I was dead to her. My father told me one day, my Mom. More

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