When it was Mira’s turn, she noticed that the girl had no name tag. It didn’t occur to her until now that the man she’d talked to at the booth hadn’t worn one either. Mira asked her name and she gave a bashful smile in response. “We’re not supposed to give our names,” she said, but said hers anyway. “That’s beautiful,” Mira responded, and the girl smiled again before asking for her drink order.

“A mint julep.”

“It might be a couple of minutes. I got these other people first. Do you mind if I bring it to you?”

“Sure,” Mira said, going to an empty table nearby to wait.

The girl at the bar continued to work. Not long after, she came over and placed a napkin down on the table with her drink. “Here,” Mira said, handing her a couple of dollars from her purse. ‘I’m sorry I almost forgot.”

The girl stared back in surprise. “Oh,” she said, flustered as she held the wad of money.

“Is something wrong?”

“People don’t usually tip. Thanks.”

She tucked the bills deep in her pants pocket and went back to the bar. When there was a lull, she walked around the porch, picking up the glasses patrons had left behind, moving swiftly to gather them before more customers came up to order.

Mira sipped her drink. Looking around, she once again noticed she was the only black person. She wondered if she was the only black person in the hotel. If she would be the only black person at this wedding. Most likely she would be.

No, Jesse. There would be Jesse. He was somewhere, although she wasn’t sure if she would recognize him. It had been so long. How much of her was still the same as the girl he had known? What would he think if he were to see her now as she sat on the porch sipping her mint julep; would he judge her for participating in this way, however small? She judged herself, and yet—she was thirsty and it was hot. Even sitting in the shade, the heat melted the ice, watering down the sweetness. She brought the glass to her lips and took a long drink before setting it down.