Jamal arrives

Stephanie, now you sit on a bench under a street light trying NOT to fall asleep, but ironically pretending to sleep while that black man toyed with himself has put you in the mood for sleep. Your heavy eyes open and close, your head begins to nod, the sound of men laughing in the distance. You are startled awake as suddenly you hear the sound of a truck backfiring, and you grab your black bag and hold it against your chest as a truck pulls up next to the curb and across two parking spaces.

A large black man with a crew cut stares out the window at you, making you uncomfortable. He leans over and there is a metallic squeal as he throws the passenger door open wide."Stephanie Weiger?" He calls over the buses, and you nod. "Your brother asked me to pick you up." Your green eyes open wide, having forgotten that Martin said a black guy would pick you up, but figuring he knows your name it must be safe.

And so you join him on the truck's bench seat, lay your bag across your lap (trying to cover the wet spunk from the bus ride) and close the door behind you, having to slam it shut for the latch to catch. "My name's Jamal," he offers you his hand, which you accept with a smile and shake it, your eyes marveling at the stark contrast between your soft white hand and his rough pitch black hand. You obviously held it a bit too long as he continues, "I need that to drive." You look up at his face, he is smiling at you, his teeth shockingly white compared to his face. You release his hand and clench onto your her bag once again, stammering a nervous apology and thanks as he puts the truck into gear.

A few minutes pass in uncomfortable silence as Jamal navigates through what seems to you to be an impossibly big city. Back home, you'd be out in the country halfway to the next town by now! "So are you ok?" Jamal asks, startling you as he breaks the silence then glances over at you. "Did something happen on the bus or something?" You consider your reply as he pauses, then continues: "I've had to ride busses all my life until I lucked into old beds here," he says, playfully slapping the dash, then shaking his head and sighing. "Stephanie, I know some people can be very weird."

"You can call me Steph," you murmur, then a little louder. "Um, my friends call me Steph." Your green eyes glance over at him, "I just saw something... weird... strange... gross..."

"Like what?" Jamal asks never taking his eyes of the road.

You lick your lips nervously. "A. Guy. Had. His. Thing. Out." You manage to eventually say.

"Oh yeah?" Jamal's eyebrows raise, then he laughs. "You use it for a punching bag?"

"N...no..." You smile bashfully, while under your bag, your fingers toyed with the love slime he left on your clothes. "I pretended to be asleep and he left me alone."

"That's good then."

"I never seen one before!" you whisper, shaking your head at the memory. "And it was just so...!"

"Black?" Jamal guessed.

"I was going to say big, but yeah he was black," you reply, looking over at him. "How'd you know?"

Jamal pulls into what must be Martin's place, putting the truck in park before turning to face you. "Because all us niggas be seriously packing downstairs, Steph!" he confides in you. "Especially compared to what those white boys have waiting for you back home! Tell ya the truth, the best thing a white girl can do is to have sex with a nigga. If she hasn't, you can be sure she racist." He punctuates the last sentence by placing his big black hand on her thigh, nodding. "Uh huh, I fucking hate racist white girls, they be better off dead."

Jamal leaves the words to sink in as he turns and climbs out of the truck. You absolutely do not want a black man anywhere near you, but you also don't want people to think you're a racist (especially not Jamal!). Your hands are clenched tightly on your bag as you will yourself out of the truck and you look up the walk to the door.