Jay’s face relaxed and he smiled, feeling like he had to approach the boy as one approached an unsure fawn.  He felt a little bad for the black boy with his punctured bike and guilty face.  It was almost nine and they were decently far from denser signs of civilization—it only made sense to bring him.

“I’m heading up north to Chiloquin. I can take you up there.  It’ll take an hour, but at least you can call someone or find somewhere to stay for the night.”

He pulled the gear to park and got out of the car, his body and facial expression open and easy. He was still perturbed by how effortless it was to talk to people, adopting their social standards and making conversations “easy”. The disarming demeanor he grew up with, and the necessity of social adaption in his job and prison, were enough to outlast his complete breakdown a few years ago.  Old habits die hard. 

He pointed to the boy’s bike and said, ”I’ll put that in the back for you. You can also put your things in the back or just in the seat.” 

After an affirmation, Jay lifted the bike and strapped it to the back, securing it to the floor of the trunk with a strap. He gave it a couple pats before opening the passenger door and walking to his side of the vehicle.  He stepping up the foothold and hauled himself to his seat.  He leaned back into the cushioned leather, inhaling the comfortable fumes of the car, and the heated leather of the seat held him close.  Even though it was summer, Oregon nights still brought an enduring chill. Even in the form of consistent car heating, he would take all the blessings he could get.