I’d met Denise in a waste-of-time class at the community college. I’d wanted to go to trade school, learn something useful like how to be an electrician, but my father wanted me to get an education. “Take a few business classes, learn how the system works,” he said. He could have taught me that. He could have taught me better than any of the underpaid, underenthused, uninteresting, uninspiring teachers who droned on in the bland rooms of the community college. “Take a year or two,” my father said. “Then, if it’s not for you, if you don’t want to go on to a university, you can go learn a trade. Then you’ll know how to run a business, because I’m telling you, you’re not going to be happy working for somebody else. You’ll want to run your own shop. If you go that route. But give the classes a shot.” He was paying for it, so what could I say? I had to sit in class and try to pay attention.

We weren’t in our second week, when she leaned over and said to me, “Am I stupid, or is this class awful?”

“This guy’s brilliant,” I said. “That’s why he’s teaching here instead running some Fortune 500 company. He’s a genius, we’re the morons.”

We talked like that for a couple of weeks. She’d say something during class and I’d try to think of something funny to say back. She was nice enough. I didn’t know anything more about her than she thought the class was as bad as I did. I didn’t think about her, to be honest, and then one day she said, “I’m having a party on Saturday, if you want to come.”

“Sure,” I said.

“You have to be there by eight,” she said. “That’s the only thing.”

“Okay,” I said.

So I showed up at her apartment at eight o’clock on Saturday and there was no one else there. Only her and me.

“How many people do you need to have a party?” she said. She poured some wine and said, “I didn’t know what you’d say if I asked you for a date, so I thought I’d see if you’d come over for a party. It’s totally casual; you can leave if you want.”

I didn’t leave, obviously. I had my out and I didn’t take it. Instead, I sat where she told me to sit and drank the wine she poured for me and answered all the questions she asked me. I told her that my father worked down at City Hall, that’s all I said.

“Oh yeah,” she said. “The mayor.”

“That’s right,” I said. “I’m the mayor’s son. I always forget.”

I knew she was going to ask about my mother next, so I told her before she asked.