“People have tried to get his head on straight, it just doesn't take,” Jason continued.
"But he said I didn't do anything, just like when my father died," insisted Kyara.
Jason shook his head, his eyes still dark with compassion.
"He doesn't think any Black person does anything, either. He was accusing you of being lazy in general, not of any particular time. He's been spewing his opinion all over town. Too much Jerry Springer and not enough brain, is all. No secret knowledge about your past."
Well, the racism was really obvious, Kyara admitted to herself. He could be telling the truth.
"And," Jason continued. "If it helps, the people who know you have told him to shut the hell up."
Not that many people know me, Kyara thought cynically. But it did kind of help.
Kyara gave a half smile and raised a hand to wipe away her tears again. As her arm wrapped around the solid strength of his to get to her face, she realized with horror what she must look like.
"Oh, God, don't look at me," she exclaimed. "I must be a mess!" She tried to pull away, but Jason held her close.
"Well, I realize I'm covered in mud, so not really in a position to judge, but you look beautiful to me."
His quiet words hung in the air between them, filling the night.
Jason broke eye contact first, stepping away. Kyara felt a surge of disappointment as the warmth of his arms withdrew from around her. For a moment her mind was filled with the image of what it would be like to go to him, strip off his clinging shirt, and press herself against the broad expanse of his chest. Only uncertainty stopped her.
"I'm sorry," he said. "You've had a rough night. I shouldn't be hitting on you when you're emotionally vulnerable."
Kyara locked on to part of his statement.
"So," said Kyara, still gazing up at his face, "To be clear, you were hitting on me."
Surprise filled his face for a moment, and then he chuckled.
"Definitely."
He's still covered in mud. I could invite him up to use my shower. Kyara took a long, deep breath, trying to slow her fluttering heartbeat. But it has been a long day, and he's trying to be a gentleman. Besides, I look like a hot mess. If he's going to use my shower, I want to look good.
Kyara pushed away an image of her slipping into the shower with him, his soapy hands gliding over the ebony gleam of her skin. She took another deep breath.
"Good," she said at last, and watched him smile. "Keep it up."
He grinned all the way out her door, his smile matching her own.
Kyara was prepared to be to spend the next Tuesday nervous, sure that everyone would have heard how she ran out on last week by now. When the day came, though, she didn't have time to be concerned.
Starting in the early afternoon, orders began to come in, even after the teens had ordered their daily dose of fries and Mrs. Waite her plain chicken breast.
Though they came slowly at first, as six-thirty approached, Kyara began to worry that she wouldn't be able to close in time to go help out on the trail after all. Even though it was a good problem to have, Kyara found herself fighting her disappointment.
It's my one night off, she complained to herself.
"Crystal," she eventually called out into the dining area. The teen's face poked through the pass a moment later.
"Yeah, Ms. B?" Crystal asked.
"I know you normally get Tuesday nights off, but are you available to work later this evening? It doesn't look like I'm headed out onto the trail tonight."
Crystal blinked at her.
"Uh, are you sure?" asked Crystal.