For Your Own Good By April Vincent & Kalamu ya Salaam It was a routine day, I mean I was just making my rounds and nothing unusual was happening except my partner was out sick, which really was a good thing. I don’t mean him being sick was good, I mean I liked rolling by myself and getting a chance to talk to people like Mrs. Andrews, who had twelve children but looked like she was a brand new mother with a small baby. I mean she was kind of slim, still had a sparkle in her eyes and… what the hell! Is that guy beating up on somebody? I flashed my siren. As I got closer I saw him hit the young girl one more time and then look up at me coming toward him. He turned and walked away slowly like nothing was happening. The girl couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen. She had a bundle of clothes strewn all over the sidewalk. I got out and tried to talk to her. When she looked up at me and peeped my badge hanging around my neck, I could see fear in her eyes. This was stupid, but I understood it. She was more afraid of me, a cop, than she was afraid of that guy who had just been beating on her. “You ok?” “I’m fine officer, I was just trying to get some laundry done.” “The sidewalk ain’t no washing machine and that dude sure wasn’t giving you no soap powder.” I stared at her and she stared back. Not looking away or nothing, the fear was gone. Maybe I was wrong, maybe she wasn’t afraid. She didn’t answer me, at least not with words; just sort of threw her hands up like as if to say ‘whatever.’ She let out a brief sigh and then bent over and started picking up the clothes. When I stooped down to help, she started talking like she knew me.
“That was my baby’s father, he lives with his mamma but he does the same thing every week, come over here, acts like he’s the king of the world, starts a foolish argument, and leave. This is the first time it’s gotten this bad.” She was crying. Silent tears rolled down the side of her jaw. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and started picking up her clothes. “You sure you ok?” “Yeah, I guess. I don’t know why he thinks just because we have a baby together that I have to be with him. But to be honest with you, sir, I am afraid.” “You don’t have to be afraid.” She wouldn’t look me in the eye. “You want to press charges on him?” “No.” Why would I press charges on the father of my child? That would only make things worse. Is that what this cop wants? Damn, these girls always be protecting the dogs that end up biting them. She picked up a pair of green shorts. I saw a little pack of weed laying there. She saw me see it and that look of fear crept into her eyes again. “How old are you? “I’m almost 17.” “You ought to be in somebody’s school.” She turned away, grabbed up an arm full of clothes and started to walk away. “Where you going?” “I have a baby to take care of, you know.” The weed was still sitting on the sidewalk. She saw it and she knew I saw it. “You’re forgetting something.” I know he don’t think I’m about to take a charge for Doe. “Oh…that’s not for me.” “That’s what they all say.” “Well I know you don’t have good reason to believe me, but I can assure you I would never even think about smoking weed. I can’t even afford milk and diapers.” “Get in.” “No!” “Girl, get in and let me take you wherever it is you going. And pick that weed up off the sidewalk, enough for somebody to come along and get the both of us in trouble.” “I’ll come with you but I hope you don’t expect me to tell you any more of my business. I don’t want to turn my life into an investigation.” “Somebody need to help you figure out all this mess.” I could look at her and see the whole story. High school. Fell in love. Hooked up with this dude. He turned her on to getting high. Got her pregnant and now is tired of her. And here she is afraid of me when she should be afraid of her whole damn future. I may have to deal with a few problems, maybe more than the average teenager, that don’t give you the right to call my life a mess. Nobody’s perfect. “Look, I’m going to help you out. I might be wasting my time but then again you never know. Come on, let’s go.” “What makes you think I need your help?” “Those tears running down the side of your face. Get in. I’m doing this for your own good.” -end- _____________________________ [this is actually a writing exercise from school year 2007/2008 in a students at the center class at frederick douglas high school in the ninth ward of new orleans. i asked april if she wanted to write a story together. she said yes. i told her you pick my character and i will start the story, plus you write your character's dialogue and inner thoughts. she smiled mischievously and said, you're a policeman. she was messing with me. i said, ok, and based it on an actual incident that had happened a week before.]