Girls From da Hood 9 Page 7

  “Yes, Judge. I . . . I’m fine,” I spoke softly. I realized I needed to adjust the microphone so I attempted to move it. It made an ear-piercing screech. I jumped back.

  The court officer raced over and fixed it. He put the microphone directly in front of my mouth. I used the back of my hand to wipe sweat from my forehead.

  “Okay, Ms. Turner. When you’re ready to speak you can address the defendant and this court. Take your time,” Judge Graves told me. I nodded and closed my eyes.

  “My name is Cheyenne Turner. The person everyone keeps referring to as the victim is my mother. Her name is Desiree Turner and she didn’t deserve to die. She didn’t deserve to be slaughtered for nothing. There are very few people in the world like my mother. I want to tell you all about the years leading up to her senseless murder because Kelsi told you hers, but we also have a story,” I said, hearing my voice echoing off the courtroom walls. I was sure everyone was holding their breath waiting for my next sentence.

  Chapter 8

  That day in August 1996 that the police took my father; they also took our house. They trashed it before they took it though.

  My mother explained to me that it was called “asset forfeiture.” She said it wasn’t the regular police; instead, it was the feds who had executed a search and seizure warrant on our place that day.

  They had destroyed my room and almost every room in the house. They took all of our jewelry, clothes, fur coats, artwork, couches, and beds. They dumped out our cabinets, closets, and garage. They pulled up the floorboards and the carpets. I never understood what they were looking for when they took sledgehammers to the walls though. Who hides things inside of walls? I remember thinking when I saw the huge holes.

  At nine years old, my family and my life had been devastated. There was no fixing it. Without my father, we had nothing but the few clothes my mother could salvage.

  My mother had a small stash of cash that the police hadn’t gotten to and someone from across town had brought her some money they’d owed to my father. None of that lasted long. We ended up moving to the sixth floor in Kelsi’s building.

  “Back to the projects from where we came,” my mother had said the day we moved. She told me it had been the apartment my father had grown up in when he was a little boy. He’d kept it after his mother died. I had always assumed that we always lived in Sea Gate. I never knew we had ever lived in the projects when I was a baby.

  At first, it was exciting living in the same building as my best friend. It was easy for Kelsi to just come upstairs to our house to play, eat, and do all of the things we liked to do. After a while, I realized that living in the building where my father used to work was terrible. I had never seen a roach in my life until we moved there. There were so many roaches Li’l Kev refused to walk on the floors in our apartment. He would scream until my mother or me picked him up and carried him everywhere. The constant noises in the hallway all night kept me up since I was used to living on a quiet, tree-lined block in Sea Gate. Kelsi told me I would get used to the noises, but I never really did. I just got used to not getting much sleep.

  By the time 1998 rolled around, I was eleven and Li’l Kev was four. Like a faucet turned off, just like that, my mother had finally stopped all of her crying over my father.

  “Look! Look at what I did for us!” she exclaimed, throwing a stack of papers onto our small wooden kitchenette table.

  I picked up the stack first. I crinkled my forehead and looked at her strangely.

  “It’s college! I got accepted to college. I’m going to school for nursing,” my mother said excitedly.

  My eyebrows arched on my face. “Wow, Mommy! That’s great!” I said enthusiastically. In my mind, I selfishly wondered what was going to happen to Li’l Kev and me while my mother went to school.

  “I have to make things better for us while your father is gone. I wasn’t on the system all this time and I’m not going on it now,” my mother said that day. Then, as if she could read my mind, she broke the news to me and Li’l Kev that we would have to stay with fat Ms. Lula at night while she went to work and school. Ms. Lula and her house stunk like corn chips and ass. We hated every time we had to go there. My mother was too determined to let our complaints deter her.

  As much as we cried, my mother held her head up high, left us, and pursued a nursing career. When my mother had a break from school, she would pack us all up—me, Kelsi, and Li’l Kev—and we would all take the same long van ride upstate to see my father. My mother would sacrifice everything to make sure she visited my father. If it was visit day for my father, my mother didn’t care if she missed school, work, or we missed school. There was nothing more important than going to see her husband.

  I could never forget the first time we visited him. He had only been gone for a month and I was missing him like crazy. My mother had dressed us all in our best clothes. She wore a pretty yellow and orange sundress that brought out her complexion. She had accessorized the dress with gold bangles and a pair of tan espadrilles. Kelsi and I dressed alike, in bright sundresses—hers aqua green and mine fuchsia.

  My father was still on Riker’s Island at that time. I remember that the guards at the jail treated us like animals. We were searched like thieves. Li’l Kev’s milk had to be poured out of his bottle and my mother’s pocketbook was dumped out.

  “This is just stupid! We not in jail here you know!” Kelsi had sassed to the guards.

  That was one of the things I loved about my best friend: she never backed down from a fight or confrontation, even with adults. When the guards had brought my father out to see us that day, he had chains on his hands and feet. He sat on the opposite side of a broken down–looking table, and after one hug for each of us we weren’t able to touch him again. In one month, my father had changed drastically to me. He just didn’t look healthy. His skin was dry looking, his hair had grown out into a small afro, and he looked way older than he had the day he was arrested.

  I remember thinking that my father was dying inside that place, that he would never make it out of there alive. I had cried for almost the entire visit. I hated seeing my father in that stupid orange jumpsuit, when I was used to seeing him in nice, crisp name-brand clothes.

  Kelsi, on the other hand, was overjoyed to see him. She even tried to hog my father’s conversation from my mother.

  Li’l Kev refused to even look at my father that day. If my father tried to touch Li’l Kev he would scream at the top of his lungs. Finally my father relented.

  “Wassup with my baby boy? He forgot his old man already?” my father said, his voice cracking like he was about to cry. I guess as young as he was, Li’l Kev sensed that it would just be best to cut his ties with my father right away.

  Not me; I held on to the hopes that my father, Kevin “Big K” Turner, was going to win his appeals and be home with us in no time. At least, that was what my father told us he was “working on” every time we visited him after that.

  It wasn’t until 2003, when I was sixteen years old, that I finally stopped believing in my father’s appeals story. Seven years of the same old story had turned me into a cynical, bitter teenager who didn’t believe in shit.

  My father had been transferred from Rikers Island to upstate New York, which signaled to me that he was going away for longer than we expected. I was old enough by then to figure out that my mother had no more money to pay lawyers and that my father’s street influence and connections had dried up, so none of his former employees came up off any money to foot his appeals bills.

  When I’d done my own silly form of research, I found out that my father had been sentenced under New York’s Rockefeller drug laws, and no amount of appeals could reverse the draconian sentencing guidelines that came with those laws.

  Kelsi was the only one who faithfully accompanied my mother to visit my father. My mother didn’t take Li’l Kev anymore because he never spoke to my father and made the visits hard on everyone. I had stopped going as well. It had become t
oo painful for me to see my father aging ten times faster than if he’d been home. Seeing him in shackles and handcuffs, helpless, useless, had also taken its toll on me emotionally. I had suddenly found myself real angry with my father. I guess years of watching my mother bust her ass to become a nurse, all while keeping food on the table and clothes on our backs, made me resent him for leaving us.

  My mother would act like she didn’t get the memo that I wasn’t visiting him anymore. The night before each visit, she would still try to get me to change my mind.

  “Y’all need to go to bed so we can get up and get to the vans early. I like to find seats in the front so I can be first in that line when we get up there,” my mother said as she stood in my doorway, a warm smile spread on her tired face.

  I hated seeing her so tired all of the time. She worked twelve-hour shifts four days a week as a nurse at Kings County Hospital. Then, she would use her days off to either shop for things for my father or visit my father. I didn’t know how she did it. To me, there was loyalty and then there was stupidity.

  “I’m not going. But, you already knew this since I didn’t go the last three times y’all went,” I told my mother flatly.

  She let out a long sigh. Her face went dark. “Cheyenne, I know it hasn’t been easy, but he is still your father. You know that he would’ve never left if he had his choice. He is powerless right now, but it is not his fault. Kevin would’ve given his life to be here for us,” my mother replied, her tone stern but soft.

  She had been telling my brother and me the same thing for years now. I was tired of her making excuses for my father. I could not understand the kind of love my mother had for my father. Even though she had worked herself to the bone and had to live in the filthy projects, she never showed one ounce of resentment toward him.

  I turned my back and pulled my blanket up to my neck. I was done discussing the issue with her. If I ever laid eyes on my father again, it surely wouldn’t be while he was behind prison walls. That was final.

  “Have it your way, Cheyenne, but he loves you more than he loves his own life,” my mother chastised.

  I sucked my teeth, wishing she would just turn off my light and get out of my damn doorway.

  “Well, Kelsi, if you’re going with me, be up,” I heard my mother say, her voice filled with defeat.

  The door clicked closed. I finally relaxed. I heard Kelsi rustling with her blanket on the other bed in my small bedroom. She was rocking; I could tell from the sound the mattress made. Kelsi rocked when she was mad.

  “You know what, Cheyenne . . . I wasn’t going to say nothing to you, but you are a fucking spoiled brat!” Kelsi said through gritted teeth.

  I could tell her teeth were clenched as she spoke. I knew her so well. I popped my eyes open in response to her words. “No, correction, I was a spoiled brat. Now I live in the projects with the roaches and rats and crackheads just like everybody else!” I snapped back. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that, but it was too late; the words had already left my lips.

  Kelsi jumped up and turned on the light. Her eyes were hooded over and her face was folded into a snarl. I could see hurt etched on her forehead like a mask. She was moving like a boxer ready to pounce.

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Like everybody else like who? Like me? Oh, you won’t go visit your father because he got arrested and you, Princess Cheyenne, was reduced to living the projects like Kelsi the poor bitch, daughter of a crackhead who lives with roaches and rats? You are fucking disgusting, Cheyenne! Your father was so good to you when he was out on these fucking streets! So what? You lived in a real house and now you have to live in the projects! So what? You don’t have enough clothes to throw away or give to the poor destitute daughter of a crackhead! Oh, woe is fucking me, Cheyenne! Why don’t you remember all the things he did do for you while he was here! How he loved you like no man ever will! How he gave you everything and risked his freedom to do that! How he loved your mother and showed you how a real man is supposed to love you! Why don’t you fucking love him and appreciate him like I do and thank God he is your father instead of wishing every day he was your father like I do? You fucking disgust me! I’m going home!” Kelsi ranted, pointing in my face with every word like she wanted to slap the shit out of me.

  My eyes were as wide as dinner plates and my mouth hung open. I couldn’t even respond to what Kelsi had said. She slammed my bedroom door and left. My shoulders slumped and my chest felt like a two-ton elephant was sitting on it. The tears came hot and fast. I couldn’t have stopped them even if I wanted to.

  That night was the first time Kelsi and I had had a real disagreement in all of the years we’d been friends. That night was also the first time I realized how much Kelsi really loved my father.

  Chapter 9

  “So how does it feel to be turning twenty-one and graduating from college all at the same damn time?” Kelsi asked me excitedly as she flopped down on the other bed in my room, which over the years had become Kelsi’s bed.

  I tilted my head to the side and smiled at her as I removed the last big bobby pin from my doobie. “It feels like I can finally go legally get drunk after all my fucking hard work,” I answered her, giggling, as I shook out my long, newly straightened locks of hair.

  We both laughed.

  “Shit, I know that’s right. But, fuck that, I turned twenty-one in August and I been waiting to get drunk with your ass. I need a fucking drink like nobody’s business,” Kelsi said, following up with a long sigh. She was staring up at the ceiling. I knew she was telling the truth.

  Kelsi had a lot to deal with. Kelsi was beautiful, but she didn’t think so. She was a little chubby around her stomach, but she had big hips and a big butt. Her face was pretty to me, but she always hated the acne that left dark marks on her cheeks. Kelsi kept her hair in micro-braids so that she could pretend she had long hair. No matter what flaws she pointed out on herself, I always thought she was beautiful. She let dudes treat her any kind of way. She had had many black eyes, broken ribs, and trips to the hospital over the years from dudes putting their hands on her. They took advantage of the fact that Kelsi didn’t have a father around. I knew Kelsi was looking for love and acceptance from a man, but she didn’t think so. She thought she played the “game” so well and that she was always “playing niggas.” From my vantage point, she was the one who always suffered in the end. All I could do was love her through the rough times as her best friend, so that’s exactly what I did.

  “I’m real proud of you, Cheyenne. I can’t front. You always been smart, beautiful, and driven. You ain’t let shit stop you from getting that piece of paper. Especially no niggas. I always looked up to you. You way stronger than me, shit. I ain’t even get that li’l high school paper. You got the big dog paper . . . degrees and shit. I’m amazed by your strength. Even when shit got fucked up at home you still fought through it. I love you for that power. That power I wish I had,” Kelsi said, interrupting the quiet that had settled around us.

  I lowered my eyes to the floor. Something inside of me felt funny. I was happy she had said those things, but sad for her. Kelsi’s words threatened to make me cry. I knew she was speaking from the heart. I also knew she wished she had listened to me all of the times I was preaching to her about finishing high school and going to college.

  “Awww, c’mon, chica, don’t be getting all sentimental on me,” I joked, sniffling back the snot about to run out of my nose. “Real talk, Kel, I look up to you too. Not many people can deal with what you had to deal with and still be in one piece. I mean I had my mother there by my side this whole time; you had to fend for yourself and I really don’t think I could ever be that strong. Pat yourself on the back too. You’re a damn survivor, girlie,” I said, changing my tone to serious.

  Kelsi rolled up on the bed and sat Indian style. “Well thank you, Chey. That means a lot coming from you, boo. Now enough of the sappy shit,” Kelsi replied, clapping her hands. “What’s the plan now? Ms. De
si said you got into some med school all the way in Texas?” Kelsi asked.

  I bit into my jaw. I wished my mother didn’t have such a big mouth. I wanted to be the one to break the news to Kelsi. I knew the thought of me leaving Brooklyn wasn’t going to be so easy for her to handle. I had no choice but to be honest with her now.

  “Yeah, I did get into the University of Texas at Austin medical program. It’s real hard to get in so I’m kinda proud I made the cut. But, I don’t know what I’m gonna do yet. I’m scared to leave my mother. Especially with Li’l Kev running the streets now,” I said solemnly.

  My brother was only fourteen years old and was already trying to build a reputation in our neighborhood. Everybody knew Li’l Kev was following in my father’s footsteps, like it or not. Some people on the street gave him respect because he was my father’s son, but other people wanted to see him suffer because of it. Kelsi lowered her head when I spoke about Li’l Kev. She knew how serious shit was getting with him.

  “Yeah, I know. I was going to talk to you about that. I was with Scorpio the other night and Li’l Kev came to the crib talkin’ about he was there to re-up. I said to him ‘I know you ain’t calling yourself selling for Scorpio.’ Girl, he like to damn near cuss me out. Chey, I wanted to take a belt and beat his little ass. You know he’s my baby brother too. I mean shit, I been around since the nigga was knee-high to a fly. Broke my fuckin’ heart seeing him waste his life away when Ms. Desiree tried to keep y’all clear of the street bullshit. These fucking streets are mean, Cheyenne. They will swallow his little ass up,” Kelsi lamented.

  I was shaking my head in disgust. I knew Kelsi was right about Li’l Kev, but what about her?

  “Neither one of y’all should be fucking with Scorpio,” I replied quickly. I wasn’t going to hide my feelings on that topic. “Scorpio is a fucking snake in the grass, Kelsi. He worked for my father back in the days and everybody around here says he was a part of the setup that took shit down. He was a part of the crew that got my father knocked. It was just crazy how fast he took over things. And, even as young as he was then, do you know how many times he tried to get at my mother after my father was gone?” I said to Kelsi seriously. I wanted her to know the kind of low-life she was dealing with.