I sat on a bench.
Nobody recognized.
A woman walked past carrying designer bag.
White.
Thirtyish.
Two toddlers.
A police officer stood across street writing parking citation.
Nothing happened.
That was beautiful.
Then an older Black woman came out of bakery carrying paper box.
The officer held door.
She said thank you.
Nothing happened.
I laughed quietly.
A teenager on skateboard looked at me like I was strange.
Maybe.
I bought coffee.
Sat.
Did not reenact.
Did not locate exact stone where glasses fell.
Did not need.
Before leaving, I bought three apples at market that replaced Greenway.
Not symbolic.
I needed apples.
At least that is what I told myself.
When I got home, my granddaughter had left voicemail.
She was twenty-one then.
College.
“Grandma Nyla, call me. I have a question about Great-Grandma.”
She had started calling me Grandma even though technically I was her grandmother? Yes, my daughter’s daughter. Fine.
I called.
“What question?”
“Professor showed video.”
I groaned.
“What class?”
“Race and American Institutions.”
“Of course.”
“They didn’t know she was my great-grandmother.”
“Did you tell?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Why good?”
“Because class discussion shouldn’t reorganize around you.”
She paused.
“That’s what I thought.”
Proud.
Then:
“Professor said your arrival changed power dynamic.”
“Yes.”
“Someone said if you hadn’t come, officer probably would have arrested her.”
“I don’t know.”
“But maybe.”
“Yes.”
“Another student said story proves Black people only get justice if connected to powerful people.”
“That’s too broad.”
“I said that.”
“What did professor say?”
“She said individual case can illustrate credibility inequality but cannot prove universal rule.”
“I like professor.”
“Me too.”
Then my granddaughter asked:
“What do you think would’ve happened if you didn’t come?”
I stared at apples on kitchen counter.
“I don’t know.”
“Come on.”
“No.”
“Really.”
“I can speculate.”
“But I cannot know.”
“Give speculation.”
I thought.
“Officer may have searched bag.”
“Found groceries.”
“Maybe realized mistake.”
“Maybe arrested her for resisting anyway.”
“Maybe Hollow intervened.”
“Maybe witnesses did.”
“Maybe she went home.”
“Maybe something worse.”
“Not knowing is part of what scared me.”
She became quiet.
Then:
“Do you think your rank saved her?”
“Not physically.”
“It may have slowed him.”
“It gave witnesses another power reference.”
“It definitely changed media.”
“But her rights existed before me.”
“I know.”
“I keep saying because people forget.”
She sighed.
“I don’t.”
“Good.”
Then she told me something I had not known.
Her professor had assigned my mother’s speech:
My worth did not arrive in Lincoln Square when my daughter did.
Students read without video first.
Most assumed daughter was lawyer.
Some politician.
Then watched.