“Thirty minutes.”
“Public place.”
“No cameras.”
Jordan agreed.
They met at a quiet café near Bryant Park.
Riley arrived first.
She looked different without burgundy.
Long wool coat.
Simple black dress.
Hair slightly longer.
No service pin.
When Nina entered, Riley stood.
Then seemed unsure whether to offer a hand.
Nina sat.
Riley did too.
For several seconds neither spoke.
Finally Riley said:
“I’m sorry.”
Nina waited.
Riley smiled nervously.
“I practiced a whole speech.”
“What happened?”
“You walked in.”
Despite herself, Nina laughed.
That helped.
Riley continued.
“I used to think the worst thing I did was shove you.”
Nina looked toward her.
“It was bad.”
“I know.”
Riley stared at her hands.
“But I think the thing I’m most ashamed of happened before that.”
“What?”
“I looked at you and decided a story.”
Nina remained quiet.
Riley continued.
“You were young.”
“Black.”
“Dressed in a way I thought was trying too hard.”
“The bag didn’t have a brand I recognized.”
“The case looked ordinary.”
“I decided you were somebody who got lucky with a ticket.”
“Or used points.”
“Or was traveling for someone richer.”
Nina’s expression did not change.
Riley looked up.
“I know how ugly that sounds.”
“It sounds honest.”
Riley nodded.
“I spent years believing I was good at reading passengers.”
“That was part of my professional identity.”
“Then I realized I was often just stereotyping with expensive vocabulary.”
Nina absorbed that.
Riley continued.
“I told myself I treated everyone based on behavior.”
“But sometimes I decided what behavior meant based on who was doing it.”
“If a wealthy older white man questioned me, he was particular.”
“If somebody like you questioned me…”
She stopped.
Nina finished:
“Attitude.”
Riley nodded.
“Yes.”
Silence.
“I lost my job.”
“I know.”
“For months I blamed you.”
“I assumed.”
Riley almost smiled.
“Then Jordan sent me the investigation findings.”
“He wasn’t supposed to.”
“He removed confidential details.”
“Still.”
Nina would speak to him later.
Riley continued.
“I read every complaint.”
“Some I barely remembered.”
“One I remembered perfectly.”
“The Jamaican woman.”
Nina nodded.
“I told myself she was confused.”
“She wasn’t.”
“She was scared.”
“It was her first time in first class.”
“Her daughter bought the ticket.”
“She kept checking the seat number because she thought she was doing something wrong.”
Riley’s eyes filled.
“And I made her feel more wrong.”
Nina looked away for a moment.
Riley continued.
“I wrote to her.”
“Did she respond?”