“What kind of theme would you have?” she asked me. She took a sip of the herbal tea she had ordered for both of us.

I shrugged my shoulders. I hadn’t thought about any particular theme, I just felt we needed something extra in soul-food spots to represent the culture.

“Maybe we should have African sculpture and artifacts on the walls.”

“But would that be from soul-food culture or more Afrocentric history?” Judi questioned.

“What difference does it make? It’s all the same culture. Why separate the American from the African? I mean, that’s who we are, right? African Americans. So why not represent that?”

Judi nodded to me. “Good point.” Then she smiled. “So why are we in a Thai restaurant? You think they would stop to eat in a soul-food spot?”

I thought about it and smiled back at her.

“Probably not.”

“So what makes us so prone to follow other people’s culture? I don’t think anyone eats as much Chinese food as black people do.”

I asked her, “You think someone else eats more soul food than us?”

We were playing a game of wits. Like I said, Judi was my Essence magazine girl, always thoughtful. She said, “I see your point.”

“And what about pizza?” I asked her. “Is that still Italian food, or is it all-American food now?”

Judi laughed. She said, “You never cease to amaze me.”

I didn’t know how to take that.

“You mean with my intellect?” I asked her to make sure. Some folks had this idea that models were not supposed to think, as if we didn’t experience the world just because we made our livings taking pictures. Judi, of all people, should have known better than that.

She said, “Sometimes you try to act aloof on purpose to stop yourself from taking your life up to that other level. But you don’t have to be afraid of going there.”

I said, “I’m not afraid of anything. Why can’t I just be satisfied with where I am? I have a pretty good life in front of me. I have my health. I have my sanity. I have a bit of a nest egg. What else could I ask for?”

Our waitress made her way back to our table before Judi could respond. We gave our orders then resumed our conversation.

“You could have a real purpose for what you’re doing, Terrance. Have you ever thought about that?”

Of course I had. “I do have a purpose,” I told her.

“Which is?”

“To keep working and keep living.”

“That’s not a purpose. That’s a function of life.”

“Not for a lot of people. A lot of people don’t have a function. A lot of people don’t function period.”

Judi was quickly tiring of my small talk. She let out a sigh and appeared ready to drop the discussion. And she was right. I didn’t like battling wits for too long. For what? I figured I had nothing to prove to anyone. I knew I had intelligence; I would determine my own life values and not have someone else impose theirs on me.