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“Really? Is the trouble over?”

“For you it is. For me it’s just beginning.”

“Are you gonna be okay?”

“Like I said…the best. Tell your mother and Coleman that I say the coast is clear for them to come home whenever they want.”

“But what about you, Daddy?”

“I’m gonna be fine, girl. I have figured what to do so that I don’t stare out that window anymore, whining in my mind about jail.”

“Did you prove them wrong?” she asked. Aja-Denise refused to accept that I could be guilty of anything.

“That will never happen. But I know now how to turn my back on all that.”

“How?”

“I’ll tell you on the day you graduate from college.”

“That’s too long.”

“After all I’ve been through, it’s just the blink of an eye.”

“Can I come to work Monday?” she asked.

“A week from Monday.”

“Why till then?”

“I have work to do.”

“Can I see you?”

“I’ll call as soon as I can. How’s that?”

“I guess.”

“I love you, Aja-Denise.”

“I love you too, Daddy.”

“Good-bye.”

I was lying on my back with no blankets on the bed of my third-floor Montague Street apartment. In my life I’d been slashed, stabbed, and shot. I’d broken bones and had bruises that went so deep they never fully went away. But I was feeling as young and hopeful as my grandmother in her red gown.

The next call rang eight times before she answered.

“Hello?”

“Willa.”

“Mr. Oliver? Is everything okay?”

“Perfect.”

“Do you have any news?”

“I need you to come to my office at one this afternoon.”