“I says, ‘Baby, after you get the best, then there ain’t no rest. Sorry! My money is gone.’

“She says, ‘Let it go, and make some more.’

“I says, ‘Joyce, I believe you is high. I never did hear you talk like that before. You have changed since first I met you. Besides, I don’t make money. I earns it. I mean the hard way—work. I ain’t no numbers man, neither a dope pusher. I ain’t no politicianer with a licker store. I cannot afford to take you out more than once a year at this rate.’

“‘It has not been but once this year,’ says Joyce. ‘You are my only boy friend, you know that, so if you don’t take me out, who will?’

“I said, ‘Better not nobody else try.’

“Joyce says, ‘Then if you want to keep your exclusive, buy! Baby, buy!’

“‘You know I’ve been saving up for my divorce,’ I says as she called the waiter, but I could tell she had larceny in her heart. Somebody must of told her they saw me buying Zarita a beer.

“‘You should of had your divorce long ago,’ says Joyce. ‘I have nothing to do with your past. I am your future. You should be saving up now to take care of me. Don’t you love me?’

“‘Sure, I love you, baby,’ I says. ‘But what makes the high cost of love so high? You are my heart throb. But every time my heart throbs in a restaurant these days, it’s dollars. You are my all. But when you take all, what have I got left to put? I do not want to be embarrassed in the Shalimar, neither Frank’s where just plain meat and potatoes costs more than turkey and dressing does in Virginia. Joyce, after all these years, is you trying to play me for a sucker? If you is, lemme tell you—I might look simple, but I definitely ain’t no fool!’

“‘Jess, watch your grammar in public. Don’t say, is you, and you is. That is not proper,’ Joyce says.

“‘I begs your pardon,’ I says. ‘Forgive my down-home talk.’

“‘Down-home or up North,’ says Joyce, ‘such terms is not correct. You know it. You have been to school.’

“‘Colored school,’ I said. ‘Which is neither here nor there as long as you understand what I am saying. What I am saying is the high cost of living and the high cost of loving together is more than I can take. I don’t mind dying for love, but I hate to be broke. I cannot pay my landlady with your affections. I cannot get my laundry out with heart throbs. Neither can I ride the subway with a kiss. I can’t even buy a beer with love.’