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been back to the postal center. It’s just too painful to think of what I gave up.
    Sure, we only had one date. I’m not saying I was in love with her. But she is definitely a special person. Someone I really would have liked to get to know. And who knows what might have happened down the road? We had a lot of the same goals. We could have made a good team.
    I look at my reflection in the window of the pawnshop. What was I thinking by just not showing up for our date? That was the stupidest thing I could have done. I know I was afraid of losing her by telling her the truth about myself. But I should have tried anyway. There was a chance, no matter how small. She might have understood. But just blowing her off like that guaranteed I would have no chance at all. I acted like a loser.
    That’s it. I can’t spend the rest of my life regretting one dumb move. Either I forget about her forever, or I make it right.
    And I don’t want to forget about her. Every time I think of how she looked that night, it’s like a knife in my chest. That beautiful yellow dress, her deep, dark eyes, her gentle smile.
    That’s it. I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to her house tonight to apologize. Maybe she’ll slam the door on me. Maybe her dad will break my neck. Well, maybe not. He is a minister, after all. But he’s still a father. And fathers are protective of their little girls.
    I have a long list of deliveries to make. After that, I’m going straight to her place. This might just be the scariest thing I’ve ever done. But it feels like the right thing too. She deserves an apology. And what happens next will be up to her.

CHAPTER TWELVE
    T hat evening, I pull up in front of Yolanda’s house. I park in the street. I don’t even dare use the driveway. I sit there for a moment and look at the front door. I won’t lie. I’m scared. Okay, not just scared. Terrified. But I know I have to do the right thing here. If nothing else, I need to let Yolanda know that I am sorry. So I get out of the car.
    That walk to her front door? Now I know what a condemned man must feel on the way to his execution.
    Parnell answers my knock. He stares at me like I’m a Martian.
    â€œCan I help you?” he says finally.
    â€œHello, Mr. Jefferson,” I say. “Is Yolanda home? There’s something I need to say to her.”
    â€œHuh,” he says. Parnell is holding a newspaper in one hand. As I watch, he rolls it up into a tube and uses it to smack his other hand. I wonder if he’s thinking about hitting me with it. “And what would that be?”
    â€œAh, well,” I say, “no disrespect intended, but I want to say it to her.”
    He looks at me for another few seconds.
    Then he nods.
    â€œOkay,” he says. Then he calls over his shoulder. “Baby! Someone here at the door for you.”
    â€œWho is it?” comes Yolanda’s voice.
    â€œYou best come see for yourself,” says old Parnell.
    After the longest wait of my life, Yolanda comes to the door. She’s only wearing jeans and a sweater, but she’s still the most beautiful woman on the planet. I feel that knife in my chest again. Dang. I really screwed up.
    â€œYou gotta be kidding me,” she says. “You?”
    â€œHello, Yolanda,” I say.
    â€œI’ll be in the living room,” Parnell says. He goes back into the house. But I can still see his shadow on the floor. He’s hiding around the corner. I’m sure he’s going to hear every word of this.
    â€œWho that at the door?” I hear Yolanda’s mom ask.
    â€œIt’s that Davis character,” Parnell says.
    â€œOh,” says Mrs. Jefferson. Then she gets real quiet. Great. So they’re both listening.
    â€œWalter,” Yolanda says, “what happened to you? We had a date. You stood me up.”
    â€œI know. I’m here to apologize,” I say.
    â€œWell, you better