This is the first time I have ever heard of a tow truck driver buying his customer lunch, but for some reason he keeps insisting. He will not take no for an answer and seems to get sore so I keep quiet.

He parks in a dirt lot and we head towards an old diner.

Though the wall-like windows are tinted, walking towards the restaurant I can see faintly within a few people sitting in booths.

Suddenly I notice my reflection in the mirrored glass and it appears so obviously Asian I almost stop in my tracks. My eyes look narrow, and my hair straight and coarse and black. He must be blind. I have slender Asian hips, and my cheekbones are too high. The way the sunlight hits my face you cannot even make out my eyes. My eyes jerk away. Everyone will be able to tell. I might even look Mexican, but not white. My heart thumps in my throat—if someone recognizes me after what I said to him about Asians—I don’t know. I avoid the tow truck guy’s face—annoyed that he didn’t notice and keep me out of this place with its people. The idea of firing him or insisting on waiting in the cab even occurs to me—my right—but that seems ridiculous. Suddenly I stop before the door.

He turns and looks at me. What’s the matter, buddy? Aren’t you coming in?

I look towards the truck which sits unlocked in the sunlight.

Sure, I tell him.

Inside, the tinted glass makes the room darker. My eyes relax after the outdoor straining but immediately dart around to see if anyone is studying me. A number of people sit in booths of crusted brown vinyl, but they do not look our way and we sit at the counter.

As he sits his jeans move loosely over his wide thighs, and his faint reflection appears on the polished countertop. He sets down his elbows and leans forward.

Susan, he calls out.

A waitress enters the room from the kitchen door and struts our way, fingering her large earrings.

Hey-llo, Stone, she says, then looks down at me. Who’s your friend?

His name is Gabe.

As she gently scrutinizes my face, my eyes find the countertop. She seems to sense something strange but breaks into a smile. She is a person who looks young for her age—smooth skin, but with something older in her eyes—and her forearm is so delicate you can see light blue veins beneath her arms.

Nice to meet you, Gabe.