2
KING
Rebecca pulled the folded sheet of paper from her purse and climbed out of her Audi SUV. She unfolded the paper and found herself squinting, trying the read her friend, Paula’s, horrendous handwriting.
Paula was Rebecca’s childhood friend. They’d know each other for twenty-five years. She was a dispatcher for the Chicago Police and Fire Department, but she had the handwriting of a doctor.
After reading the to-do list Dr. Thantos had given her, Paula insisted on helping her cross off a few items. She had used her resources at the department to look for Rebecca’s father.
Finding her dad was easy once Paula got involved. She was able to get his personal information within minutes.
Rebecca was mentally preparing herself for meeting with her father as she walked the short walkway, looking for the address Paula had given her. She entered Racine Courts, a low-income housing project. As she walked through the maze of crack heads and corner boys, it was clear that Henry Patrick Norris wasn’t the wealthiest member of society. But she hadn’t expected him to be. So, she tried not to judge.
She walked along the rowhouses until she arrived at the correct address. She stepped up onto the stoop and took a deep breath before knocking. As if already expecting someone, the door flew open.
“Go around back!” a young black man ordered before slamming the door in her face.
Completely dumbfounded, Rebecca stood in front of the door, debating on whether or not to knock again. Since she sure as hell wasn’t going to the back of anything, she tapped on the door. When the door flew open again, the man’s brow wrinkled as he glared at Rebecca.
“Bitch, didn’t I say go to the back?” His tone was supposed to have been menacing.
Rebecca recoiled, but not out of fear. She felt utterly disrespected. There he stood in front of her in the stereotypical dope-boy uniform of the day; white T-shirt, blue jeans, and doo rag. The man-child couldn't have been more than twenty. Evidently, life had hardened him, but Rebecca wasn't about to be anymore “bitches.”
She folded her arms over her chest and locked eyes with the thug. “Listen,boy, the last I checked, I wasn't yo’ bitch. Now, I was told Henry Norris lived here.”
“You da police?”
“I was told Henry Norris lived here,” Rebecca repeated.
“Who is that at the do’, Boogie?” a woman called out from inside the apartment.
“Some lady looking for Henry.”
Rebecca stood out on the porch, feeling awkward and a bit nervous as the two carried on a conversation. She was seriously thinking about leaving when a thin white woman appeared behind the young man.
“Why you lookin’ for my husband? she asked suspiciously.
“You're married to Henry?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Henry Norris?”
“Yes! Now, what do you want?!” she shouted bravely behind her ghetto bodyguard.
Rebecca smiled. She was actually amused by the blaxploitation scene playing out in front of her.
“Something funny?” the young man asked.
“Yes, this shit goin’ on in my head is hilarious,” Rebecca mumbled.
“Are you da police or not?” he asked as if losing his patience.
“I’m Rebecca King. I’m Henry’s daughter.”
“Ohhh, shoot!” the lady gasped. She pulled the boy away from the door and urged Rebecca inside.
With some reluctance, she entered the home. Wanting to be prepared for any surprises, she was sure to keep an eye on every doorway.
