Authors: Xyla Turner
15 years ago:
Ouch
!
Danny tackled Lisa near the grass, running her over like a freight train. She probably should not have been playing tackle football, but tackling her that hard was simply uncalled for. Josh, Lisa’s brother, told him to knock it off on many occasions. It was the end of August in the city of Philadelphia and they were all playing in the Richard Allen Projects or as the broken sign on the sidewalk used to read, The Housing Development. It was normal for them to be playing sports in the middle of the patches of brown grass and the hard black concrete. Lisa’s dad forbade them to play anywhere else because there was so much broken glass and used needles laying around the development. Nothing was ever cleaned and even if it were, within the week, the streets would be filled with more trash and the results of a broken community.
The sun was high, causing Lisa to be temporarily blinded as she attempted to run the football through the mob of boys, she failed to see Danny coming for her again as he tackled her on the hard concrete. There was no patch of grass for her to land and like always, Danny seemed dead set on bringing her pain. Even though she was a skinny girl, who had not yet developed into the full physical stage of womanhood. The other guys, including her brother, got mad at Danny for hitting her so hard. After some minor pushing and trash talking, they cooled it since they were all neighbors, it would be squashed by dinner time. They always let her play because she was fast, she was a girl and nobody really wanted to tackle her except Danny.
Lisa hopped right back up and yelled, “I’m alright.”
Danny waved his arm in her direction and said, “See, she’s fine. Quit bitching.”
“Lisa?” Josh was asking without asking.
She nodded her head while the other guys scowled at Danny. He was always rough with her. He didn’t care whether she was a girl or not, Lisa was his enemy if she was not on his team. As it usually happened, she was never on his team and he made sure of that.
Lisa’s father and brother were so overprotective when it came to her. She was surprised that they let her play any sports at all. Their father, Aaron Johnson, was fine with almost anything, but she had to be with Josh. He conditioned his son to always take care of his baby sister, so that meant she was with him at all times. This resulted in Lisa being referred to as a tom-boy, but the Johnson’s did not care. She was safe, staying busy and Aaron did not quite care what other people thought of how he raised his kids. Josh and Lisa’s mother passed away only a year after Lisa was born. Their father said she died from an aneurysm. This was unexpected and tragic, but Aaron raised those kids the best way he knew how and if Lisa played tackle football and basketball, yet stayed out of trouble, this was fine with him. She was actually quite good at both sports since she was so fast. Then basketball became more than a sport for her, but a game that she loved to compete.
Once they finished their game of football and Josh signaled for Lisa to gather her things so they could head home. They lived in an area where many low-income families had resided for decades. The place was crawling with crack heads, girls with cuts on their faces and drug dealers. They never heard the term gangs, but they knew whose corner belonged to which group. Her dad didn’t trust none of these people, which was another reason he made Josh stay with Lisa at all time. Aaron would use the N word often, but when he talked to Lisa, he tried not to curse or use derogatory language. Her father was a construction worker and this particular month he was laid off. He said that they (white guys) always laid off the black guys first. She was only eight, so she didn’t always understand what he was saying or how these things he mentioned impacted their lives. They had food on the table, clothes on their back, although Josh often complained that he wanted certain kinds of sneakers. Nevertheless, their dad made them focus on their education. His mantra was, nobody can take that away from you. Have your own, so you will not ever be laid off. He constantly drilled that into them, which seemed like it was on a daily basis.
Her father often worked with his friend and County Chairman Wallace Pinkney. He and Wallace grew up together and they seemed to have a mutual understanding and respect for one another. Pinkney had this ambition of helping with the change of the
New
Philadelphia, helping low-income people, merging racial divides and attacking hard issues like education. The community loved him because he was from the same hood. He just happened to also be a politician, which meant he did some questionable things, like the upcoming community event. Her dad would shake his head at him when he saw Wallace on TV talking about the rich and poor working together. Aaron thought that was the politician talking, not his friend. Lisa's dad always said that the rich get richer and the poor get poorer. White people made sure of that, so this notion of them working together to eliminate poverty, change the education system, or help to keep these kids out of jail was ridiculous.
One of Wallace initiatives was the
Over the Tracks
community event that included food, games, sports, vendors and a celebrity appearance. Wallace had people canvassing all of north and south Philadelphia, to ensure that there were as many people as possible in attendance. He even had elected officials from other districts involved, black and white. This was supposed to be a spectacular event, so the police were ready for any sort of commotion. They had been there to keep the peace because they were like her father, who didn’t believe in that
‘kumbaya shit’
as he would say, but not in front of her.
The event was beyond spectacular, there were people everywhere, black and white alike. They ran out of food, so Wallace ordered 100 pizzas because he didn’t want there to be any issues. They had community speakers, gave out awards, and held a basketball tournament and still people were out and about having fun. They were not necessarily having fun with each other, meaning mingling outside of their friends, but they were all there with no trouble. After the basketball tournament, Josh and friends all started to play a pickup game with Lisa. On the other side of the court, there were several white boys playing a game as well. Wallace must have seen this and saw it as an opportunity to begin the mending of the racial divide starting with the youth because the adults were not budging. He stopped both of the games and said they should just play each other. Lisa looked at her brothers who had smirks on their faces. She knew they thought white people were not good at basketball, so why not. She looked at the white boys and saw they had similar smirks, but she couldn’t decipher what theirs meant.
Lisa was nine, Josh was eleven years old and so were all of his friends, except Danny, who was twelve. They flipped a coin and the white boys got the ball first. Danny muttered that would be the only time they got the ball. Josh had taught Lisa how to play basketball and he always stressed that defense was critical because anyone could score, but to stop someone else from scoring was what mattered. Josh, sometimes, could be a real sage. The boys put Lisa on the point guard who brought up the ball, so she guarded him from afar at first. She didn’t know him and was not sure how he played. Danny yelled at her to get on him. So she moved closer with her hands extended on her sides. The white boy went to cross her over, but she anticipated the switch, stole the ball and laid it up on their side of the court, scoring the team’s first point. Her team cheered and to her surprise, all the black people cheered. There was a huge crowd watching the game. After she had made the layup, she felt a little more confident, so she pushed the ball out of bounds towards the glaring boy who she just stole it from and stood there. It might have seemed innocent to a non-ball player, but that move was a challenge. It said, ‘I just scored and I’m not running back, I’m going to stand here and guard you so I can score again.’ The boy picked up on the challenge and chest passed the ball to her really hard. He looked shocked when she merely caught it with quick hands and checked him.
He started dribbling the ball, with his hand guarding it now, as she slid sideways to keep up with him. He glared at her, then muttered something. Lisa looked from his hands to his face and asked, “What?”
He kept dribbling while saying through gritted teeth, “Y’all always cheat.”
She looked at him with confusion etched on her face. Who was y’all and who cheated? He dribbled past her quickly, so she ran to catch up as he threw the ball to his teammate, who sat at the three-point line and sunk the three, scoring for his team. This time, the white people cheered and the black people groaned. Wallace had a look on his face that could have been read, maybe this was not a good idea.
The game went on with the same sort of intensity. The tension could be cut with a knife and the emotions were extremely high over a quick game of pickup with kids. Now, it seemed like everyone was watching, with cheers and groans each time a team scored. The score was tied 22-22 with one minute left. There was no referee because, in a game like this, everyone called their own fouls. Fortunately, there was someone to keep the score and time. Lisa was tired because the boy she was guarding was fast like her. He scored on her twice, but other than that, he directed his entire team and set them up to score. And they executed this flawlessly and mostly behind the three-point line.
After her team had lost the ball, Josh tapped her on the shoulder and whispered, “Take it from him again.”
Lisa nodded and got closer to her opponent as he dribbled the ball up the court. He must have known she was going to try and steal it from him again. His elbows were out, so when he was getting ready to pass the ball between his two hands, she reached for the ball, but he elbowed her and she fell from the force of the blow. Outrage erupted from her teammates and the viewers on the sidelines to the point where Wallace got up and started pacing in front of the crowd with a lame attempt to pacify them. “It’s just a friendly game with kids.” He forced a nervous smile.
When Lisa got up, she saw her dad staring at her. He did not audibly say anything, but what she felt he said was, ‘Get that damn ball.' She didn’t call the foul because only babies did that, but she did nod towards at her father in acknowledgment of his silent demand. She picked up the ball since Wallace had just separated Josh and her opponent. Mentally, Lisa was ready to steal the ball again, so she pushed the ball towards the boy with a hard chest pass. He quickly grabbed it and started dribbling towards her again. She swatted at the ball several times to throw him off, but then he tried to do an around the back cross over and she had him.
Lisa stole the ball from him and took off dribbling to their side of the court. She could feel him on her heels. Her strongest arm was the right hand, but with 20 seconds left, she couldn’t switch the ball to her right hand without losing time or him stealing the ball. His breath felt like it was right on her neck, to the point that she cringed. Lisa was a pretty good basketball player, however with the anxiety that was building in her stomach she feared that she would miss the lay-up. As she reached the inside of the paint near their basket, she felt a strong push on her right shoulder, but she had just released the ball with her left hand for the lay-up. The next thing she knew, she was on the ground with her opponent on top of her. He glared at her and whispered, “You’ll pay for that blackie.”
The crowd erupted, then they groaned as he was pulled off of her and punched in the face by Danny. Followed up by Josh. By the time she got up, people were pouring out of the bleachers because that one incident turned into an all-out brawl. Strong arms pulled her out of the mix, moving her away from the stampeding crowd. She looked up and saw it was her dad, who was shaking his head. The police were at the scene on bullhorns telling everyone to stand back. Wallace just looked at the commotion with confusion and disappointment. Other people of all ages and colors were hastily leaving. Gunshots were fired in the air, but she was not sure if that was from the police or from the drug dealers. It did the trick because everyone scattered.
When they arrived back home, it was the talk of the neighborhood. How little Lisa stole the ball from the white boy across the tracks twice, then scored on him to win the game. Lisa didn’t even know that she scored that last basket. All she knew was she got pushed hard. Her dad tended to her scrapes and bruises while Josh tended to his own, which were mostly from his fist. She did not even want to know what that boy looked like, between Danny and Josh, they hit him hard. As they were headed for bed, their dad spoke, which stopped them both so they could hear. Aaron took a swig of his amber liquid and said, “Proud of you both for sticking together.” He looked at Josh, then looked at her, “Baby girl, that’s what I want to see. Never back down.” He held up the drink towards her, “Way to win that game today.”
He took another mouthful of the drink as Josh nodded towards her and smiled.
He was also proud of her.
15 years later –
RICH:
Why his father felt the need for him to be a public defender was beyond him. He hated representing low-lives. Mostly hated representing the same drug dealers who were caught over and over again, then had the nerve to feel like the world owed them something. Hello, stop selling drugs, dumb ass. Get an honest fucking job. His father was a Philadelphia State Representative and he represented parts of South Philly, where they grew up. The plan was for him, Rich Jr., to become a State Senator and represent other parts of South Philly, to keep it ‘
together’
. The best way, according to State Representative Richard Wells, Sr., was to be a public defender because a lawyer working in the private sector would be frowned upon. Especially if he decided to run for the Senate seat or any seat for that matter. South Philadelphia was made of hard working people and specifically blue collars workers. They did not always embrace white collars and especially those that rubbed it in their faces. So even amongst your own kind, one could be considered an outcast.
Richard Wells, Sr. was a smart man and knew the best way to work the system. He sent Richard Jr., now Rich to the Pennsylvania State University (Penn State) to study Political Science. Once he finished undergrad, his father paid for him to go to law school at the University of Pennsylvania (U Penn). These were the best schools that offered the most elite programs, according to Richard Sr. They were also his alma maters. It could have been perceived that he received special privileges and if a party was busted or things got out of hand, he was a politician’s son and his father contributed significantly to both universities. Rich didn’t get into much trouble because while his father was accommodating and would use his power to make things go away, he also would provide serious punishment to his son when he was young. The punching stopped when he got to college, but the other disciplines started if he messed up. Cutting off his credit cards, disabling his car, having it towed, showing up after his classes to tell him he was a failure and didn’t deserve the family name or legacy. Rich tried to stay on the straight and narrow because his father was more lethal than anyone would ever know.
He often wondered how his mom dealt with him or if the father he knew was a result of his mother’s death. Rich often thought he was that way because his mom died so early leaving him with a son to raise alone. Therefore, he would take his frustrations out on him. He had only seen pictures of his mom at his aunt's house because his dad did not have them posted anywhere. The older he grew, the more he realized how much of a problem this was. The only thing he knew about his mom was what his Aunt Anna had told him. She was beautiful, humble and a world changer. Her passion was education, but she stopped working when she married his father. She had no siblings and her family was from North Carolina and migrated to Philadelphia, which was years before she met Richard Sr.
His father never talked about his mother. Rich could not recall a time when he uttered her name or even acknowledged that she existed. When he was young, Rich made the mistake of telling his father that he wanted to visit his mom’s family in North Carolina. He had bruises for two weeks after that suggestion. That meant he also never recognized that his mother existed. At least in that house. Rich’s only hope was that, his mom, Margaret Wells, was at peace and no longer in pain from the cancer that took her so soon.
******
Court Room 5
Rich put his papers in a folder and stood tall, waiting for his next client. This boy was picked up for stealing food from a corner store. He mentally shook his head. Some things just did not make sense to him. Rich thought he probably took some candy when he just did not want to spend the dollar. The judge picked up the gavel and banged it on the desk.
“Next,” he croaked.
In walked a Hispanic looking teenage boy, who did not look any older than 14. He was accompanied by a tall black woman with brown skin, full lips, arched eyebrows, long lashes, and shoulder length straight hair. Rich estimated she was around a size eight or ten, had an impressive rack and a round ass that looked perfect in that pencil skirt. Everything on her looked good; the stockings, high heels, off white blouse that loosely fit her and a red scarf wrapped around her neck. Her spring jacket was draped over her arm and she walked in with purpose. She probably wasn’t related to the boy, but he could see that the boy trusted her because he reached out for her hand, which she quickly grabbed as they walked down the aisle of the courtroom.
Rich looked down at her hips, which despite that loose blouse, he could see swaying back and forth flawlessly. The woman looked like she was floating down the aisle. They finally reached him and he pulled his eyes away from her hips. What was wrong with him? He held out his hand and said, “Hello, you must be Ricardo?” The boy nodded. “I’m Mr. Wells, your lawyer.”
He felt the woman’s eyes on him. “So, petty theft, corner store, what do you plead?” Rich said in a low voice.
The boy looked at the woman and asked, “Guilty?”
“You need to explain the circumstance,” she nudged her head towards Rich.
Rich chimed in, “No, I don’t need the details, right now I just need to know what to tell the judge. Guilty or not?”
The woman’s eyes had focused on him, before she said, “What? You do need to hear the circumstance because the judge needs to understand the case so he can receive some leniency.”
Rich’s patience, at that moment, started to run short with the combination of her questioning him on how to do his job and realizing she was a sympathizer. “Listen ma’am, they all have excuses why they did what they did. However, right now, I’m going to assume he did it because he has an excuse and right now, you are going to let me do my job.”
She reeled back as if he had smacked her in the face. Then she pulled Ricardo behind her and scolded, “You must have lost your damn mind. One, for thinking you could talk to me like that and two, for
not
taking your clients,” she emphasized, “concerns and situations seriously. You will not be representing him and,” she picked up his card from the table and said, “I’ll be sure to spread the word about your bias about anyone like him. Since
they
,” she held up both her hands to make air-quotes, “all have excuses.”
He grimaced at her words. Who the fuck did she think she was talking to, was his question. Then she walked passed him and said to the judge, “Your honor, my apologies, but Ricardo here,” she pointed to the boy, “is going to need other representation. Mr. Wells needs to attend to his other clientele.”
“Who are you?” the judge asked.
“My name is Lisa Johnson, I’m Ricardo’s teacher,” she said.
The judge looked at Rich and asked, “Are you not able to represent the accused?”
Rich was so shocked by the last two minutes, he was not sure what he should say. “I’m able to represent this client, if HE,” Rich emphasized, “would like me to. However, I will respect their wishes and pass this case along.”
The judge nodded. “Fine, let’s reschedule for next week.”
He banged the gavel on the desk and said, “Next.”
The lady grabbed the boy, as she turned to march out of the courtroom. Rich knew he was bright red now, how dare she embarrass him like that in the courtroom, in front of his superiors and peers. That was one thing he didn’t stand for, so he stormed after them to confront the crazy black bitch.
The doors banged closed behind him and he said through his teeth, “Listen here, you –”, he caught himself.
She whirled around, glaring at him. Lisa motioned for her student to go towards the stairs. He immediately obeyed because he must have sensed it was about to get ugly. She kept her glare and spoke through her teeth in a low menacing voice, “What, I’m a what? Blackie, Darkie, Nigger bitch? Which one were you going for today?” she asked.
He was shocked at her candor. Then he said, “Well I was just going to say bitch, but you finished the others for me.”
She walked closer to him and he could smell her perfume. She smelled delicious like he could eat her, but she looked dangerous like he should cover his balls or his face. “Wow,” she laughed, “some things never change. You are still the same ignoramus you’ve always been.”
What the hell was she talking about? He didn’t know her from anywhere. She looked faintly familiar, but he could not place where he could possibly know her.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” he asked with a scowl on his face.
“I’m talking about you and your prejudice ways. You are still ignorant. Why the hell would you be a public defender? You are setting these people up for failure because you don’t care one bit about them. This is just a step for you to something bigger.” She looked utterly disgusted with him.
Rich had seen that same look many times from his father when he messed up. What she thought about him should not have mattered, but the way she read him like a book during a five-minute interaction made him feel vulnerable.
Was he so transparent?
“I don’t give a fuck what you think about me, I do my job and I do it well –” he started.
“No, Richard,” she emphasized his name like he was a boy, “You do a job, but you don’t do it well. You will never do it well until you give a fuck. But don’t you worry. I will make it my life’s mission to make sure you do go into private practice because this.” She circled her finger around the air then pointed to Ricardo, “isn’t for people the likes of you.”
Ten minutes ago, he couldn’t have agreed with her more, but now he was upset that she just called him out. Who the hell was she? He glared at her and she turned her lip at him like she smelled something bad and slowly sashayed away. It was like she knew he’d be looking at her ass. Which he was, mesmerized by each sway of her hips.
******
LISA:
She knew exactly who he was when he opened his mouth.
15 years ago
, at the
Over the Tracks
community event, he had pushed her down at the end of the basketball game which started the brawl that was heard around Richard Allen. Lisa was known as the fierce up and coming basketball star who put boys to shame. Josh and her dad were committed to making Lisa better and better at the sport. She went on to play in high school, then she was recruited to play for Drexel University. Everybody around the neighborhood was so proud of her because they felt like they were a part of her process. Some of the girls didn’t like her because she always had the guy’s attention or admiration. This caused her not to hang out with many girls, but she had a few loyal friends. Jessica and Michelle were the closest to her since she knew them since high school.
After Drexel, her father did not want her coming back home to live. He said she should be out on her own. Therefore, he and Josh had set to revamp a house that was on sale for nearly nothing, but needed a lot of repairs. Dad suggested that she and Josh buy it, so they would own property. It made sense because Josh owned a hardware store and Dad was a construction worker. Her dad also worked as a plumbing technician instructor at a local trade school. He would also do mechanical and plumbing jobs for the neighbors and people in the community, for a small fee. Sometimes, he allowed Josh to tag along and help.
Education was Lisa’s major, so right after school, she started working for her old high school, where she was welcomed with open arms. After a few years, she joined the board of the
No School to Prison Pipeline Foundation
(NSPPF) and now she served as Chair of the Board. She received the journalist job because Lisa would always comment and ‘write the editor’ about various topics that related to education, social justice, and the community. This included long letters, debatable comments and post that impressed someone, so the Philadelphia Daily Newspaper made her an offer. She gladly accepted and had been writing as a freelancer for a few years. Her column was called,
‘Real Talk with Lisa
.’
On the ride home, Lisa was in deep thought. Mostly about the prejudice son of a bitch. She was still livid. That arrogant lawyer, Mr. Richard Wells, Jr., was going to pay. She could not believe she lost her temper and messed up Ricardo’s case, but she could not allow him to represent the boy. He didn’t give one fuck about Ricardo or anyone else. If he thought that his entitled attitude, that Armani tailored suit that fit him perfectly or his perfect smile was going to help, he was wrong. She had a board meeting tomorrow evening and this was going to be the topic that she contributed, not only to the meeting but to her column in the paper.
When Lisa arrived at her townhouse, she went to her entrance on the first floor and slammed the door. Josh lived on the second floor and had a different entry way. Her phone beeped, but it was only Josh asking if she was alright since her door slammed. He must have been home to hear that. She said yeah, just a terrible day. He asked if she wanted company, but she didn’t, she wanted to start writing her article about the racist, prejudice bastard. She would have to look it up to see which he was, racist, prejudice, or both.
Lisa did not realize how mad she was until her stomach growled and she heard how loud she was banging on the keys of her ergonomic keyboard. The keyboard had not done anything to her, but that man, Richard Wells, did. She reread her article and smiled. She thought she should probably wait until another day for submitting it, but she knew her anger might kindle a little and she would probably change it. She wanted to send it now so he could feel the full weight of her wrath. This was probably not wise, but she did not care at the moment. Hoping it would be a significant backlash, she hit send, which emailed the article to her editor.