Color of Love by Sandra Kitt Page A

celebrate the end of the semester, and Leah looked forward to it. They took the final exam in the college auditorium with three hundred other students. Leah finished first and then waited an hour for Philip to be done. They got into Philip’s car … and he drove her home to Brooklyn. He said good night and promised that he’d call her soon. Leah never saw or heard from him again. For years after she wondered what she’d done wrong. Worse, Leah agonized if spending time with her had just been some sort of experiment for him.
    She’d made an analogy between Philip and Jason the first time Jason had asked her out for coffee. She’d wondered if he’d really show up. When Jason had asked her out again, she had known by the time Jason had brought her home that all similarities had ended. Now she lay in bed wondering what she was getting herself into.
    And, of course, there was Allen.
    Two years ago she and Gail had met Allen at the opening show of silk-screen prints by an artist and mutual friend. Allen had seemed at the time more taken with Gail, but it was Leah he’d asked out and whom he’d begun to date steadily. Leah found Allen good company and intelligent, even if a little stiff and pompous at times. Allen treated her well enough and didn’t make many demands. Neither did Leah ever have many thoughts of wanting more for herself. Allen became a pattern, a fixture, along with other things in her life, like her job and friends and family. He was comfortable to be with … and he was black.
    What thoughts Leah had given to the patterns of her life and to the future didn’t necessarily include Allen, but it didn’t exclude him either. The pattern for the time being was set: routine, pleasant, and predictable. If she wasn’t insanely happy she was, at least, content.
    But Jason Horn was an almost perfect stranger whom, she was afraid, she rather liked. Jason wasn’t what she was used to, and that was a big part of the problem. He didn’t fit anywhere into the patterns. And if they were to go on meeting each other, she’d have to rethink content, and rethink the future and the patterns of her life. She would have to rethink expectations, and reconsider history. Leah recognized that most certainly her life would change.
    The patterns would be broken.
    Leah was not the only one with unexpected reflections on the evening. Jason walked away from the brownstone feeling a combination of surprise and confusion. Had he really just asked her out again?
    Why?
    He pushed his hands through his dark hair. The afternoon coffee a week ago with Leah Downey had been nice. Tonight had been even nicer. But Jason had not anticipated anything beyond that. It had just slipped out. Well, maybe not. Am I going to see you again?
    Jason tried to remember the last time he’d been with a new woman without feeling he had to pretend to be someone he wasn’t. Had he asked Leah Downey out again because he felt relieved?
    He decided he didn’t have the patience to deal with the subway again to get home. All that peeling back of scabs over the wounds of his life left him feeling exposed. And hyper. He decided to walk home.
    He was astounded that he’d revealed so much of himself. He’d really put himself out there, on display. Voluntarily.
    Again, why?
    Because he knew instinctively that he could not be less than honest. Leah had already seen him at his worst.
    His ex-wife, Lisa, came to mind. He thought of his son. Michael had had such promise, so much potential. He was a great kid. Had been. They’d seen each other just two weeks before the accident, and now Jason would never see him again.
    Shaking his head to clear it, Jason took a deep breath. He could feel the tension quickly dissolving as it turned into remorse and reflection. Suddenly, all kinds of events from the past three months came rushing back to him, like a film playing in fast forward. That afternoon in particular when Joe had tried to ease the bad news to him about the phone