Leo took a moment to wipe his eyes and get himself calmed down. “So I think that’s the end of it, but when I get back to my register, it’s been cleaned out. Somebody waiting in my goddamn line saw the chance, took the money, and ran. But my manager accuses me. ‘The whole thing was planned,’ he says. Me, the homeless guy, and someone else were working together. And why does he think this? Because we’re both Black. He calls me a ‘no-account s’equal.’” Then Leo pursed his lips tight. “I would’ve hit him for that, but his nose was already broken.”

“I woulda hit him anyway,” I told him. Easy for me to say, because I might have gotten away with it in a way that Leo couldn’t.

“So the police show up a few minutes later, and the manager has me arrested.”

“He can’t do that! He has no proof you did anything but save that homeless guy’s life!”

“Assault,” Leo said. “Broken nose, blood everywhere. He tells the cops I attacked him, and they haul me away in handcuffs.”

I wanted to hurt someone. I wanted to hurt everyone who had a part in this. I wanted to burn it all to the ground. “He can’t get away with that!”

“No? Then how come I’m the one in here instead of him?”

I couldn’t answer because there was no good answer.

“I’m gonna take care of this, Leo. I’m gonna make it right. Better than right.”

Then he glared at me, and suddenly I felt like the enemy. Like I was just another part of this fucked-up world.

“Always the same thing. The great white hero’s gonna solve all the world’s problems. And I was stupid enough to believe it. You had me fooled, Ash. You had me fooled.”

“I’m no hero,” I told him. “I’m the monster who did this to you. I stole your life and your future. You have every right to hate me.” The truth hurt, but I couldn’t hide from it. I made this world. All its flaws and injustices. All its brutal, unthinkable realities. Great white hero, my ass. This miserable world was on me.

Leo couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. As much as he didn’t want me to see them. “Tell me it’s different where you come from,” he pleaded. “I know your world ain’t perfect, but tell me this wouldn’t have happened there.”

And as much as I wanted to say that was true—as much as I wanted to comfort him—I couldn’t. Because it could have happened to him there, just as easily as here. Because as far as we’d like to think we’d come, we’ve barely moved the ball inches. Apathy, resistance, and self-interest hold the line, and the fumbles alone are too many to count.