ties with their father right away. Not Cheyenne. She’d held onto the hopes that her father, Kevin “Big K” Turner, was going to win his appeals and be home with them in no time. At least, that was what her father had told her he was “working on” every time they visited him after that.
It wasn’t until 2003, when Cheyenne was sixteen years old, that she finally stopped believing in her father’s appeals story. Seven years of the same old story had turned her into a cynical, bitter teenager who didn’t believe in shit. Her father had been transferred from Rikers Island to Upstate New York, which signaled to Cheyenne that he was going away for longer than they’d all expected. She was old enough by then to figure out that her mother had no more money to pay lawyers and that her father’s street influence and connections had dried up, so none of his former employees came up off any money to foot his appeals bill.
When Cheyenne did her own silly form of research, she found out that her father had been sentenced under New York’s Rockefeller drug laws, and no amount of appeals could reverse the draconian sentencing guidelines that came with those laws. It was a lifetime behind bars unless a miracle happened and something changed about the system.
Kelsi was the only one who faithfully accompanied Cheyenne’s mother to visit her father. Her mother didn’t take Lil Kev anymore because he never spoke to his father, and it made the visits harder on everyone. Cheyenne stopped going as well. It had become too painful for her to see her father aging ten times faster than if he’d been home. Seeing him in shackles and handcuffs, helpless, useless, had also taken its toll on her emotionally. She suddenly found herself really angry with her father. Cheyenne guessed years of watching her mother bust her ass to become a nurse, all while keeping food on the table and clothes on their backs, made her resent him for leaving them.
Her mother would act like she didn’t get the memo that Cheyenne wasn’t visiting her father anymore. The night before each visit, her mother would still try to get Cheyenne to change her mind.
“Y’all need to go to bed so we can get up and get to the vans early. I like to find seats in the front so I can be first on that line when we get up there,” her mother said one evening as she stood in Cheyenne’s doorway, a warm smile spread on her beautiful but tired face.
Cheyenne hated seeing her mother so tired all the time. She worked twelve-hour shifts four days a week as a nurse at Brooklyn Hospital. Then, her mother would use her days off to either shop for things for her father or visit her father. Cheyenne didn’t know how her mother did it—stay loyal like that. To Cheyenne, there was loyalty, and then there was stupidity. In her eyes, after so many years of getting nothing in return, her mother was bordering on stupidity.
“I’m not going. But you already knew this, since I didn’t go the last three times y’all went,” Cheyenne told her mother flatly that evening.
Her mother let out a long sigh, and her face went dark. “Cheyenne, I know it hasn’t been easy, but he is still your father. You know that he would’ve never left if he had his choice. He is powerless right now, but it is not his fault. Kevin would’ve given his life to be here for us,” her mother replied, her tone stern but soft.
She had been telling Cheyenne and Lil Kev the same thing for years at that point. Cheyenne had grown tired of her mother making excuses for her father. Cheyenne could not understand the kind of love her mother had for her father, and she could only hope to have anything close to it when she grew up. Even though her mother had worked herself to the bone and had to live in the filthy projects, she never showed one ounce of resentment toward her father. Not even one ounce. That night, Cheyenne turned her back and pulled her blanket up to her neck. She was done discussing the issue with her mother. If she ever laid eyes on her father again, it surely wouldn’t be while he was behind prison walls. That was Cheyenne’s final proclamation on the topic.
“Have it your way, Cheyenne, but he loves you more than he loves his own life,” her mother said with feeling.
Cheyenne sucked her teeth, wishing her mother would just turn off her light and get out of her damn doorway.
“Well, Kelsi, if you’re going with me, be up,” she heard her mother say, her voice filled with defeat.
The door clicked closed. Cheyenne finally relaxed. Then she heard Kelsi rustling with her blanket on the other bed in the small bedroom. Kelsi was rocking. Cheyenne could tell from the sound the mattress made. Kelsi rocked when she was mad.
“You know what, Cheyenne? I wasn’t going to say nothing to you, but you are a fucking spoiled brat,” Kelsi gritted.
Cheyenne could tell that Kelsi’s teeth were clenched as she spoke. Cheyenne knew Kelsi so well. Cheyenne popped her eyes open in response to her friend’s words.
“No, correction. I was a spoiled brat. Now I live in the projects with the roaches and rats and crackheads just like everybody else,” Cheyenne snapped back. She hadn’t meant for it to come out like that, but it was too late. The words had already left her lips.
Kelsi jumped up and turned on the light. Her eyes were hooded over, and her face had folded into a snarl. Cheyenne saw the hurt etched on Kelsi’s forehead like a mask. Kelsi moved on her legs like a boxer ready to pounce.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Like everybody else like who? Like me? Oh, you won’t go visit your father because he got arrested, and you, Princess Cheyenne, was reduced to living the projects like Kelsi, the poor bitch, daughter of a crackhead who lives with roaches and rats? You are fucking disgusting, Cheyenne! Your father was so good to you when he was out on these fucking streets! You lived in a real house and now you have to live in the projects? So what? You don’t have enough clothes to throw away or give to the poor, destitute daughter of a crackhead? Oh, woe is fucking me, Cheyenne! Why don’t you remember all the things he did do for you while he was here? How he loved you like no man ever will! How he gave you everything and risked his freedom to do that! How he loved your mother and showed you how a real man is supposed to love you! Why don’t you fucking love him and appreciate him like I do and thank God he is your father, instead of wishing everyday he was your father like I do? You fucking disgust me! I’m going home!” Kelsi ranted and pointed in Cheyenne’s face with every word like she wanted to slap the shit out of her.
Cheyenne’s eyes stretched as wide as dinner plates, and her mouth hung open. She couldn’t even respond to what Kelsi had said.
Kelsi slammed the bedroom door and left. Cheyenne’s shoulders slumped, and her chest felt like a two-ton elephant was sitting on it. The tears came hot and fast. Cheyenne couldn’t have stopped them even if she wanted to.
That night was the first time Kelsi and Cheyenne had had a real disagreement in all the years they’d been friends. That night was also the first time Cheyenne realized how much Kelsi really loved her father.
* * *
It was over three hours after Cheyenne returned home from medical school to deal with her mother’s murder when Kelsi finally showed up. Cheyenne was lying on the couch with a cold compress over her eyes when Kelsi came in. Kelsi rushed over to Cheyenne.
“Oh, Chey... I’m so sorry,” Kelsi cried out, bending down and hugging Cheyenne. “I’m so, so sorry,” Kelsi repeated.
Cheyenne’s floodgate of tears started up again. “Why? Why? She didn’t deserve this! She was a good person,” Cheyenne sobbed. “She would never hurt anyone. Everyone loved her! I loved her!”
“I know. I know. She didn’t deserve it. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” Kelsi cried as she held onto her best friend. “She didn’t deserve it at all.”
* * *
The day after Cheyenne arrived in Brooklyn, the detectives showed up at the house. There were two of them—one white and one black. Cheyenne didn’t really trust the police; she didn’t care if they were white, black, blue, or green. In her assessment, the police were responsible for every single negative thing she’d ever gone through in her life.
Detective Brice Simpson introduced himself first, leaving the fat, white detective behind