Writers Tricks of the Trade MARCH-APRIL 2015 | Page 35

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I'VE GOTTA BE ME (Cont’d)

Seeing her fear and her hurt just made me angrier. Everything that she tried to say to calm
me down, to make it better, just made it worse. She was my daughter, my baby, and seeing
her like this made me lose all reason, and all control. The bastard who did this was going to
hurt ten times maybe a hundred times more-than she was hurting.
"You don't have to see him. All you gotta do is point in his direction. I'll take it from there."
"What are you going to do?"
"Don't worry about it. I'm just gonna talk to him."
"No, you're not. I know you."
"Don't concern yourself with what I do with him."
"Just promise you won't kill him."
"Tanya"
"Daddy

promise!"

"Okay, all right, I promise."
I didn't know if I could keep it, but it was a promise that I had to make to get her to come
with me.
"He's a big guy, Daddy ... a gang leader from Astoria ... he carries a knife in his boot."
"Get dressed."
I had one of my guys drive us down to the college that wasn't too far from our apartment in the
Williamsburg section of Brooklyn. I took Tanya by the hand and we walked into the school, father
and daughter.
The lobby was crowded, so we blended in with the others. Nobody could guess what my
mission was. We looked like any father and daughter walking together. Tanya had pulled it
together and wasn't crying anymore. Her anxiety over what I might do replaced her sadness
or distress would soon be unleashed.
Walking down a long, busy corridor, Tanya pointed out the punk who had grabbed her.
"That's him. Right there. The tall one."
I nodded and kissed her on the forehead. "Go 'head, go back to the car," I told her.
"Go 'head. I'll be right out." Tanya turned and rushed off.
Students filed into their classrooms, but the punk remained in the hallway, leaning against a
wall with one leg tucked up behind him.
I marched down the corridor toward him.
This walk must have taken me ten seconds at most.
Yet I could see my whole life flash before my eyes as I took it. I could see my father, who had

WRITERS’ TRICKS OF THE TRADE

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MAR-APR 2015