by Xyla Turner
My head nodded as I laughed at the notion of DaShawn playing handball.
For some reason, he could always make me laugh. He was older than his years and had seen a lot of shit but he was naturally funny and usually would cut through bullshit faster than anyone I knew.
My man was working hard. After three months, I got him to say ninjas around me instead of the n-word and now he chose to say females or chicks, instead of bitches. The cursing wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, but we’d continue to work on the time and place to use such language.
“Well, I’m fucking proud of you man. We got to celebrate. Second honors! Yo, this is college bound shit.”
“Naw, I ain’t going to no college.” DaShawn was adamant.
“Yo,” I made my voice stern. He turned and looked at me. “DaShawn, I’ve never bullshitted you. I won’t start now. You get grades like this and pull that GPA up, you can go to college, even if it’s starting at a community college. You can go. You don’t get grades like this because you used to bake. You get grades like this because you’ve worked hard to do it. If you can get a New York City diploma, you can go to college. You’ve already passed four REGENTS exams.”
He looked at me and at that moment, I wished I could have taken a picture. It was the image that should have been next to the word, Hope in a dictionary.
It was small and short, but it was hope.
“You one crazy ass ninja.” He nodded his head and then he followed up with, “I’ll ask Ms. Johnson about it. She be saying the same shit.”
“I think I like this lady.” I nodded and pointed towards his report card.
“Hold on, fam. Get your own lady.” DaShawn shook his head. “She’s taken.”
I laughed as I held out my hand to help him stand up. “Let’s get something to eat, I’m starving.”
“You going to let me drive the cruiser, this time?” He asked me.
“Fuck, no.” I pulled him up then he followed me towards the front door.
“You never let me have fun.” He shook his head. “I’m the one carrying this relationship.”
“Boo, fucking, who,” I replied as we laughed walking out the door but ran into Ryan and D’asia.
“Vic, what’s going on?” Ryan smiled and gave me a half-hug. “Hey, DaShawn. You’re in here early.”
“Yeah, he’s always on my ass. Can’t get a fucking break.” DaShawn jabbed his thumb towards me with a wide smile. “What’s a ninja to do?”
We all laughed and then DaShawn slid towards D’asia and said, “Hi, Ms. D’asia.”
“Hey DaShawn.” She smiled at the young man. “How’s school?”
“Oh, it’s aight.” He nodded in a dreamy way.
“Aight?” I repeated. “This guy, made the fucking honor roll.”
I held up his report card to show Ryan and D’asia.
“Man, don’t be showing my shit all over the fucking world.” DaShawn tried to grab it from me but D’asia grabbed it first.
“Oh my God, DaShawn. This is excellent,” she exclaimed as she scanned the report.
Then she stepped to him and hugged him. “This is just awesome.”
“Really?” DaShawn slowly wrapped his long arms around D’asia.
“Alright, hands off,” Ryan tapped DaShawn.
“Man, you always blocking.” DaShawn reluctantly lets go.
Ryan laughed and said, “She’s mine. That’s not blocking.”
The young man shook his head, “Man, you guys have all the fun. You got a hottie like her and you get to hang out with me. What a fucking life?”
We all laughed again and then I waved goodbye to them as DaShawn and I headed to Brooklyn to get some burgers and cheesecake. They were his favorite and after going from having less than a one-point-zero as a grade point average to a three-point-zero, he could get whatever he wanted.
The truth was, he kept me young but also made me want to have some children of my own. Shit, I felt like a proud father. Not that it was because he got those grades because of me but that he thought enough about our relationship to come and show me.
That was everything.
Chapter Two
He’s Different
KAT
“Why do you try to keep hooking me up with these white men?” I sighed at my friend, D’asia. “For the umpteenth time. I. Am. Not. Interested.”
My friend meant well but ever since she started dating her white boyfriend, she was all about the swirl. She wanted everyone to be in a mixed relationship. Ryan was a cool guy, like really cool but I highly doubt there were much more guys like him to go around. More importantly, there weren’t many cops like him around. That was my philosophy and I didn’t quite give a fuck if anyone agreed. Seventy percent of the police force was corrupt or could be bought and the thirty percent that wasn't, were some of the new rookies that hadn’t been initiated into the blue gang just yet.
That wasn’t what I heard, that was what I knew.
“Kat, you should really give him a chance. I’m telling you, he’s different.” D’asia was pleading with me. “You know how I feel about this.”
“Yeah, I also know since you’ve been with Ryan, you have on rose-colored glasses. He and all his cop friends are good but Vic smells of a policeman. He just thinks he’s going to control the narrative, come in and tell me what I’m going to do, and then the copper had the nerve to tell me that I was being ignorant.”
I huffed loudly over the phone.
“Me!” I exclaimed. “Ignorant? I am very much alive and know what is going on in my community and ignorance is the furthest thing from my mindset. He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know what I stand for.”
Yeah, that made me madder than I thought. In hindsight, there were so many things I wanted to tell him. I should have told him but I was in that much shock; so when I finally processed what he said, it was too late. He left me standing there with my mouth wide open.
“Well, please don’t take this the wrong way, but this assumption that all cops are bad is ignorant. He probably shouldn’t have said that but come on Kat, you know this shit.” She tried to reason with me. “It’s the same argument we have about each other. Everybody from The Trap isn’t a criminal. All black people aren’t dumb and all Asian people aren’t smart. They are stereotypes. You know this.”
She was right but in my head, I was absolutely right. Cops were not to be trusted and I had firsthand knowledge of that fact, so I would never forget.
“I hear you. I do but I don’t subscribe to that type of thinking when it comes to cops. I’m sorry D’asia. You may not agree but please respect my right to have that opinion.” I told her.
Silence met me over the phone and I knew she wasn’t happy with my decision or my choosing to stay there with my belief.
Then she finally spoke and said, “You know, if someone said to you, I don’t like blacks; I like you, but I don’t like black people. They’re lazy, they are a cancer and I don’t like them but respect my right to have that opinion. I would tell them to kiss my ass. It’s so absurd. Now, you’re in essence saying the same thing. The man I love is a police officer. Shit, I didn’t pick it but Ryan McFadden is all about me, for me and if I have anything to say about it, I’m going to have little copper babies, because I love that man. So, when you say, I like him but hate the rest of them, I’m left feeling conflicted. I don’t know how to do that and honestly, I don’t know how to respect that sort of ignorance. I’m sure something has happened for you to warrant that sort of belief. You haven’t shared that, but what I will say because I do value you as a friend, is that you should maybe talk to someone about that. Hate, Kat, does nothing but cause you to deter faster. Believe me, I know and even started to see someone about my mother. There’s no shame in that and I don’t have a problem admitting it. But we, are too young to harbor that sort of hate in our hearts towards any fucking body. We owe that to ourselves.”
There was a noise in the background causing D’asia to stop. “Alright, gi
rl. I got to run to Zee’s debate, but just think about what I’m saying.”
“Aight.”
We hung up.
Shit, if I heard her right, I think she just told me would not be my friend any longer.
Wow.
She didn’t know about my dad or what my family went through, so I wouldn’t expect her to understand but she wouldn’t even try to sympathize with my side of the story.
I was some years older than her but just like her, I’d dealt with loss. Hers included losing her mom to drugs and mine was to something more personal. I’d value her drive, her hustle and even her choices but they weren’t mine. I had my own shit to deal with.
As usual, I had the late shift at Mt. Sinai in Manhattan. The emergency room was my main assignment and while it could be heartbreaking, it worked for me. I was quick on my feet, knew my shit, could get the job done and I loved to be in the mix. I’d been a nurse for twelve years and at the age of thirty-two, it was still what I wanted to do.
Luckily, I had a pretty cool manager who allowed me to get all the training, certifications and coursework I needed to advance myself and move up. She often said, I was a true nurse, and I simply loved my job. At the end of the day, I wanted to help save lives, so I did.
“Hey Kat, you think it’s going to be a slow night tonight?” Wendy asked after I sat down behind the intake desk with her.
“Wendy, fuck. Why do you do that shit all the time? Jinx us and now it’s going to be the shift from hell.”
She laughed, then said, “I just asked.”
“We do not comment on how the shift will go. Okay?” I shook my head. “You’ve been here for a year. You know this.”
One entire minute didn’t even pass until we received a call and then the lights of an incoming ambulance.
“Young black male, shot in the chest, barely breathing,” The attendance said over the intercom.
We called the doctors on staff, took the young boy to the room we prepped. His shirt and pants were covered in blood; if he was breathing, it couldn’t be noticed by the naked eye.
The doctor started barking orders and we started moving in an effort to save his life. I tried not to think of what landed this kid here because he couldn’t have been any older than nineteen or twenty. I took classes with kids that age when I was trying to get my certification. They were kids and once we cut off his shirt and saw the size of the gunshot wound, it was clear that it was at close range.
Fucking crazy.
Once we finished and put him on a respirator, the doctor went outside to let the family know his status. It did not look good, but the doctor would say it in a way to give hope, I was sure.
To my surprise, there was a young girl outside and a police officer waiting to hear the news. When we asked the girl who she was, she shook her head and eyed the officer who was several rows away warily.
“I’m here waiting for my friend to get me,” she exclaimed.
The doctor left her alone and moved to the police officer who said he was the first on the scene. I left on that note, and the doctor filled him in on the status.
When I went to get the kid’s information from Betty, she said he was named a John Doe. He had no identification on him, money or even lint in the pockets of his designer jeans. It seemed odd, but we’d seen stranger things before. However, there was a ‘girl’ waiting and her story didn’t seem to add up, so I ran back out to find her in the hallway on the phone.
“Hey,” I called.
She said something on the phone, hit a button on the screen and said, “Yes. My friend is coming.”
Her hair was short and colored green, yet she was cute in an, ‘I’m young and free’ sort of way.
“Do you know the boy that was shot?” I asked.
She looked around in fear and shook her head in the negative.
“Please, if you know him. Just say something. He’s listed as a John Doe and I’d want his mom or dad to come and see him. He’d want that.” I pleaded with her because she had to know something.
“Promise not to say anything,” she whispered and moved closer to me.
“I just want to contact his folks,” I nodded.
“Yeah, he’s a friend.” She nodded with big wet eyes.
“What’s his full name?” I asked.
Her head shook, then she answered, “I don’t know but we call him Dae-Dae and he lives over in Hillside Projects.”
“You know where, exactly?” I asked. “Or a name of his family or something?”
Her head shook and then she started to cry some more.
“I’m sorry,” she whimpered as her entire body shook. “But, I know someone that would know. He’s a cop and Dae-Dae trusted him. He’d know.”
“What’s his name?” I asked.
“Officer Ritter is his name, he’s at Precinct 81.” Her head nodded.
“Great, thanks. What’s your name?” I asked. “My name is Nurse Long.”
She nodded and said, “I’m Pena.”
“Great, I’m going to try to track down his family, okay?” I asked. “Did you tell the police officer in there?”
Her head shook violently and she clutched her small purse. “No, um, I’m not talking to him.”
“Oh, okay.” Something wasn’t sitting right with me. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s cool. Just get in contact with his peoples. They need to know.”
My head shook and I thanked her again.
When I returned, I gave the information that Pena told me to Wendy, then answered the next call from an incoming ambulance. Just like she jinxed, it was going to be a terribly busy night and it was.
Once my shift was over, I went home and tried to sleep, but I couldn’t. The utter terror in Pena’s face reminded me of my own when my father was killed and a band of officers came to speak with my brother and me. I will never forget the mirrored expression on my brother’s face of my own.
Fear.
The next afternoon, I ran some errands and ran across Professor Hillman from a class I took with D’asia.
“Hey, Professor. How are you doing?” I asked.
“Ah, Kat, my beloved and most vocal student.” He greeted me as I laughed.
“I wasn’t that bad,” I said.
“Oh, no. You were worse.” He nodded his head.
“Wait, so you mean to tell me that I was the worst student when it came to voicing my opinion?” I asked.
“Kat,” he sighed. “You made one student cry and please do not let the topic turn to police officers. You basically almost told me to sit down as you began to preach to the class about the blue gang of cops.”
He adjusted the briefcase in his hand and continued. “However, your opinion was vital to the class discussion and your passion is one to be admired. I’m slightly kidding, but I know it comes from a place of hurt.”
My eyes reached his and he nodded his head.
“I was still on the force when your father was killed.” He almost whispered.
My left leg took a step back as he lifted his hand up for me to stop. This was not common knowledge and most people did not know this fact. D’asia didn’t even know that.
“I am saying that to say, I know where you’re coming from. As a former police officer and father, I do understand. Despite that hurt, I’ve always thought it was vital for all students to hear the other side; the side of pain. The side of being the victim and not just the commentators talking about the victims.”
There were no words that came to mind as it appeared he pulled the scab off an old wound or even opened up a new one. My head nodded in acknowledgment of his words as my heart started to hurt once again.
Professor Hillman’s eyes bore into mine and then he asked, “How is your family doing?”
“They’re fine.” I nodded. “Just fine. It was a long time ago.”
“Yeah, but shit like that takes a long time to heal. No matter how long ago it happened.”
His phone chimed and he no
dded. “Okay, Kat. Hopefully, you’ll grace my class again and if not, I’d love to have you come speak from your own personal experience. Okay? I really believe we could all benefit from your story and your passion as I know others have in the past.”
I nodded my head at his words and waved, as he moved past me to get on his way.
It seemed that everything over the past two days was coming to a head. Things and situations I hadn’t thought about in years seemed to be ever present before me and that was specifically what I’d worked so hard to rid myself of; those painful emotions.
“Wendy, don’t start your shit. This is going to be a good shift, goddammit,” I yelled at her.
“Right, Kat. A good shift.” She laughed as I walked past her to unload my things in the locker.
After I had done my rounds, I checked in again with Wendy and asked, “So, did you get in touch with that officer for that kid yesterday?”
“Oh yeah, he’s here now. They moved the patient up to Intensive Care. It’s not looking good.”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “I’ll be back.”
The only way I’ve survived this profession, is not getting attached and meddling, but once in a while, I did check on patients and shed many a tear for each of them. Therefore, when I went upstairs to Intensive Care to check on the young boy in room 834, I wasn’t ready.
“Man, we had a fucking plan. Remember?” An officer, dressed in navy blue, was at his bedside, holding the boy’s hand tightly. “You were going to finish school and get outta New York. Go and stay with your cousin in Atlanta or go to college. You promised me, remember? Made me bet you the damn cheesecake.”
His head fell on the bed as he growled into the mattress. My eyes began to sting as the emotion hit me at the door. I had witnessed many heartfelt speeches at the end of a person’s life, but the pain in that room was almost too much to bear.
As I turned to leave, I heard, “I’m sorry. You can come in, I was just, uh, leaving.”