Philadelphia

Treasure Hernandez

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Table of Contents

“Don't go. Stay home tonight,” Billie pleaded with her father. She stood in front of the living room window where she had just been watching the snow falling, violently swirling in the whipping winds.

“I have to, baby.” Her father, Reggie, chuckled a little at his only child's passionate plea. She looked so cute standing there that he couldn't help himself.

“Daddy, please. It's Christmas Eve. Santa is coming.” She pouted. “Plus it's bedtime.” She gestured to her holiday-themed pajamas. Like every child who believes in Santa Claus, Billie had put her pajamas on and gotten ready for bed several hours early.

“I have to work. The buses don't stop running because it's Christmas Eve.” He scooped eight-year-old Billie into his arms. She sat in the crook of his arm with her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms around his neck.

Reggie had been a city bus driver on the same route in Philadelphia for fifteen years. He wasn't scheduled to work this night, but one of the other drivers had called in sick, so he volunteered to drive. He was always willing to work for extra pay. He and his wife, Monique, were saving up to move out of North Philly and buy a house in the suburbs.

“It's snowing too much.” She squeezed him tight. Billie was going to think of every argument she could to keep her father from going out. She never liked when her father went off to work, especially if it was Christmas. She desperately wanted him to stay in.

“I'll make sure to drive extra careful. And I'll tell you what—if I see Santa, I'll tell him to be extra generous this year.”

“No, Daddy. If you're awake, Santa won't come in and leave presents.”

“Oh, right.” Reggie acted like he had forgotten this important detail. “I'll make sure to be home and in bed before Santa comes. But in case he comes early while I'm still working, you should get to sleep now.” He hugged his daughter and kissed her cheek. They shared their high cheekbones, and when either of them smiled, their faces filled out into a joyful look.

She smiled. “Okay, Daddy.” Billie slid out of her father's grasp, and watched him kiss his wife then walk out the door into the cold, stormy night.

The streets were deserted as Reggie drove to the bus depot. The combination of the holiday and the storm chased all of Philadelphia into their homes. Reggie didn't mind it; in fact, he liked it. He had grown up in the city and was ready to get out. He wanted to move to the quiet, tree-lined streets of the suburbs.

Reggie daydreamed about his future as he carefully maneuvered his car through the empty streets. He was ready and excited for the move, especially now that his dream was in sight. In a little more than a month, they would have saved enough for a down payment. Thinking about all the years he and Monique struggled to put money into savings, he smiled at the thought that they were finally close to their goal. He loved his family and would do anything for them.

The bus depot was just as deserted as the city. Bus service was cut back on a holiday schedule, so many of the drivers had the night off.

“What's up, Reggie? Gonna be a quiet night tonight.” DeShawn, the dispatcher, greeted Reggie with a nod.

“Yeah, not many people out there.” Reggie opened his locker. “Just let me get through this shift and get home. I got me some Christmas to start celebrating.”

“I hear that. Don't even know why you would be coming in tonight anyway.”

“Get me some overtime. Almost got enough for a house. Time to get the fuck out the ghetto.”

“Well, you lucky that motherfucker Jerry don't like working and always be looking for someone to run his shift.”

“I'll take the extra cash. That stupid son of a bitch always complaining about being broke, but never wants to work.” Reggie shook his head in disgust and closed his locker.

“Yeah, he a fool. Bus 624 is ready. Got the chains on the tires.” Deshawn handed Reggie a clipboard so he could sign in for the bus.

Reggie handed the clipboard back. “A'ight, son. See you after my shift.”

“Nah. I'm done in a few hours. My ass'll be long gone, relaxing and starting my holiday.”

“I hear that.” They laughed and pounded fists.

As Reggie drove his route, he thought more about moving his family out of the hard city streets to somewhere beautiful. More than anything, he wanted to give that to his baby girl. He daydreamed for the next few hours, until a little past midnight, when the weather started getting even worse. Reggie now turned his full attention to his driving.

The wind and snow were still pounding the city and showed no signs of stopping. In fact, it might have been a pretty sight if he were watching it through the window with his daughter. For most of the shift, the bus had been empty. There had been only a handful of passengers all night. It seemed the only other people on the roads were the ones driving the snowplows, and they were having a hard time keeping the streets clear.

As Reggie drove down the street, he got a call from dispatch telling him that bus service was being cancelled. All he needed to do was make it to the end of the route, turn the bus around, and take it back to the depot. The Christmas holiday was about to begin for Reggie, and he couldn't have been happier.

“Aw, shit! Half a shift and full holiday pay. A Christmas miracle.” Reggie's voice echoed through the empty bus.

Reggie made the turn at the end of the route and headed for the depot. Through the swiping windshields and snow, he could see a young man with his hood pulled over his head standing at the first bus stop. As the bus got closer, the young man started waving his arms to signal the bus to stop. Reggie carefully pulled into the stop and opened the door.

“Hop on,” Reggie said.

The passenger stepped on the bus and paid the fare without speaking to Reggie.

“You're lucky. They just suspended bus service. I'm heading back in, but I'm feeling generous, so I'll give you a ride.” Reggie closed the bus door.

The young man sat in the first seat. He kept his hood on and remained silent.

Reggie made small talk with his new passenger. “It's nasty out there tonight. At least we know it's gonna be a white Christmas.”

“Yep,” the passenger mumbled.

Reggie glanced over at his passenger, who was sitting with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He couldn't have been more than fifteen years old.

“What you doin' out so late? Shouldn't you be in waiting to open presents tomorrow morning?”

“Fuck that. You need to shut the fuck up.” The young man pulled a gun from his coat pocket and pointed it at Reggie.

“Whoa, young buck. Calm down. I ain't got no money for you.”

“Kareem says you late with his payment. You gotta pay, muthafucka.”

“I don't know what you talkin' about. Who's Kareem ?”

“Fuck you, old man. You know damn well what I'm talkin' 'bout. Now, either you give me Kareem's money or you gonna pay another way.”

“Now hold on. I'm tellin' you, I don't know no Kareem.” By this time, Reggie had pulled the bus over to the side of the road.

The young man stood up and moved toward Reggie. “Give me the fuckin' money, Jerry.” He punched Reggie in the side of his head.

The blow was so sudden that Reggie saw stars, and his head rang. He muffled a reflexive cry, and tasted the iron of blood; he must have bitten his tongue. He tried to shake it off, and said, “Hold on. I'm not Jerry. You got the wrong guy.”

The young man cut him off, and said with pride, “Don't bullshit me. I know this your bus route, nigga.” He'd done his homework. Jerry wasn't going to fool him with some lame-ass nonsense like that. No one was going to fool him.

“I'm just filling in. Jerry called out tonight. This ain't my normal route.”

At this, the kid hesitated. He hadn't expected an excuse like that.

Reggie could sense that he'd taken the young man off-guard, so he continued to try talking him down. “Jerry's always calling out, man. I'm just trying to get some extra work, give my little girl a merry Christmas, you know?”

For a minute Reggie thought he was getting through to him, but then the young man shook his head violently. “Nah, fuck you.” The young man punched Reggie again.

“Okay, okay,” yelled Reggie, putting his hands up. He realized he wasn't going to be able to reason with this young man. He could see the nervousness in the kid's face and he sensed that this situation wasn't going to end by talking.

“Let me get my money from my pocket.” He looked at the kid and waited for his answer. The boy stepped back to let Reggie stand up.

As soon as Reggie was out of his seat, he lunged at the boy and tried to grab the gun from his hands. They struggled for control of the gun. The kid was stronger than Reggie expected. The boy started getting the upper hand, and when he had the chance, he fired a shot into Reggie's chest.

“Fuck you, Jerry.” The boy seethed as Reggie fell in the aisle.

Reggie struggled to speak. “I'm not Jerry. Call an ambulance.” The bullet had lodged in his left lung, and the blood was flowing freely from the hole it had made in his chest.

The boy rummaged through Reggie's pockets and found his wallet. He took the money from its folds, and was about to throw everything else on the ground when he noticed Reggie's ID.

“Oh, fuck,” the boy said, panicked. “Oh, fuck, man.” He covered his face, gun still in hand, and swore at himself for making the mistake, swore at this punk for getting in his way, and swore at Jerry for not being where he was supposed to be.

When the dispatch radio crackled to life, reminding him where he was, he pulled himself together quick. Instead of throwing the wallet on the ground, he stuffed it into his coat pocket. He pointed the gun at Reggie and pumped two bullets into his forehead, eliminating any chance of Reggie being able to identify his attacker.

Then, without looking back, the boy stepped over the dead body, and ran off into the stormy night.

 

 

It was a Christmas Billie would never forget. She came running into the living room ready to rip open presents and was stopped by her mother, who was waiting for her.

“Billie, sit down dear,” her mother said.

Billie saw a look on her mother's face that she had never seen before. The uneasiness, this look caused Billie, upset her. Billie sensed something wrong.

“What, Mama?” Billie sat where her mother directed her. Her eyes were wide and her chin was beginning to tremble slightly from nervousness.

Billie sat and waited for her mother to speak. Her mother didn't say anything; she just sat and stared at Billie with a sad look on her face. She took Billie's hands in hers and began gently rubbing them.

Billie broke the silence. “Mama?”

“Billie, I have something to tell you. It's about your father.” Her mother paused as her eyes started to tear up.

“What about Daddy?” Billie was scared.

“Your daddy is not coming home.” The tears started falling from her eyes.

“Why not? He has to be here to open presents.” Tears began to fall from Billie's eyes as well. At this point the tears were more a reaction to the way her mother was acting than anything else.

There was no easy way for her mother to say it so she came right out with it. “Your father died last night.”

Billie stared blankly at her mother as the stream of tears became heavier. Billie didn't know what to say or what to do. She was scared, confused, sad, angry, nervous, guilty, stressed. She was a ball of emotions and didn't know which one she felt the most.

When she finally spoke all she could muster in a soft whisper was, “Why?”

Her mother began stroking Billie's hair. “I don't know, baby. God has a plan and needed him, I guess.”

“But I need Daddy,” Billie said.

“I know, baby, I know. Me too.” She kissed Billie on her forehead.

“It's not fair.” Billie got up from the chair and went back to her room. She was devastated. She spent the rest of the day crying in her room. The presents stayed under the tree, untouched, forgotten.

She came out of the room only a few times over the next two days. Late at night on the second day of her grieving, Billie walked into the kitchen to get some food. There was a newspaper on the kitchen table with a picture of her father on the front page. Billie started reading the accompanying article. Billie didn't understand a lot of it but she did understand that a bad man had shot her daddy. The article said something about how the bus was driving through a section of town that was run by a man named Kareem, who was a drug dealer. It said the police had asked Kareem questions but he told them about something called an alibi. Billie wanted to know why the police hadn't found the man who shot her daddy.

After reading the article something shifted inside of Billie. She no longer felt scared or confused. She wanted the man responsible for killing her daddy to pay a price. She wanted to make sure that men who did bad things were punished. At that moment Billie stopped crying for her daddy. She had done enough crying alone in her room. She told herself that she needed to be strong for her mama.

Four days after Christmas, Billie stood with her head held high as they lowered her daddy's casket into the ground. As she watched the casket come to rest in the ground she turned to her mother and said, “Mommy, I promise I'm going to make someone pay for this.”