As a permanent resident of Canada, I obtained a visa to travel to America. I went back to Boston legally, if only for about a month. I saw my old frie...ds. I saw my old digs. It all made me nostalgic for the old days. However, Ottawa was home. Not Boston. I returned to Ottawa, thankful for all the good turns my life had taken. Still, something was missing. I was quite lonely. Stuck in a town where every Black woman seemed genetically designed to denigrate Black men and worship White men.. ‘What? Oh, no. I couldn’t. You and Mr. Carbone need be at the bakery so early and I’ll be back much too late. Besides you know teenagers. They’ll be up eatin’ popcorn and talkin’ ’bout boys. You already do so much for us. Could you call Armande for me? I’d call him myself but he doesn’t think anyone should be ova when I’m not home.’ Gina felt another twinge pull at the base of her spine. She hated lying to the old woman that had been like a second mother and grandmother to her and the girls. More

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