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home when he got the call from the police. He couldn't even believe she had ventured there.”
    Rosa stared at me. Her brow slowly tightened. “That’s it?” she said.
    “That’s what?”
    “That’s why you became a white nationalist?”
    “That’s what landed him down that path, yes. He used to teach geography before. He decided it was more important to create a place where people could be with their own. The place where my mother died was almost entirely black populated. If she hadn’t ended up there by accident she wouldn’t have died.”
    My father’s grief had always centered around that fact. I could remember his voice as he took the police call.
    Why is she there? His voice had faded in disbelief. I don’t understand officer . Why would my wife be there? Later, in the midst of his grief, he would still speak the words to himself, still not believing.
    “Oh, what the hell?” Rosa said, breaking my thought. She sat back arms folded. “You know, I spent all evening imagining all sorts of horrific things about you and what you believed, but this is almost worse. It’s silly.”
    I felt myself burn hot at that. “In what way?”
    “This is what you and your father took from your mother’s death? He decided he needed to get away from an entire group of people cause of one person’s crime?”
    “He wasn’t looking to punish anyone, just set people free from the choices other groups made.”
    “Uh huh.” She shook her head. “Do you even hear yourself? You’re so desperate to not look racist that you look silly instead. Who would your father want to keep apart from if your mother had been killed by a white robber?”
    “That wouldn’t have happened in that part of town.”
    “No? Then why not somewhere in your part of town? Because you guys lived someplace good, where the robbers were all computer hackers?”
    I shook my head. This was getting way off message. “You asked me what started all this, and I told you. I was not the one who started the movement. This was his reasoning. What else are you looking for?”
    “Uh, a real reason.” She bent in hard over the table. “You think what happened to you justifies what you turned into? My father was killed too, I didn’t become some black panther.”
    “Your father was killed by white men?”
    Her eyes fluttered a moment, and she dropped her gaze. “You might see them that way, but they were Latino.”
    “What happened?” I asked, peering in at her.
    It looked like she might refuse, but her head dipped back towards the table. “He was stabbed. We were walking to the corner store and someone robbed him. He didn’t even try to resist. He gave them his wallet and a guy stabbed him anyway. Maybe they just didn’t want him to follow them. He didn’t. He bled out in front of me.”
    She looked up and her eyes were glistening. I saw myself in the reflection of her tears. I saw her behind that veil.
    “Rosa…” I reached for her hand, but she yanked it away.
    “Grief makes people do crazy things, but your whole life shouldn’t be built around it.” She shook her head wildly. “Why are you even dating me if you believe the things you do?”
    I wasn’t even sure what I believed anymore, but that had happened because of her. It hadn’t led me to her. The reason for that was far more simple. “Cause I liked you,” I said. “Inside and out.”
    “Like me? I’m black. That’s your enemy. You didn’t even see me as Latino when you first met me.”
    “Black is not the enemy.” I wished I could just make her understand, but the more I tried to find the words, the less it made sense. “Separation is just one path to peace.”
    “And the other is what?” She laughed dully. “Banging the black out of their kids?”
    Kids. My heart swelled at the idea of creating so deep a connection. It was beyond even the crazy thing I’d been imagining on the ride over. But how could I ever keep that secret?
    “I didn’t think it that far,” I