Dreams from My Father

type.
    “That’s okay.” I walked to the front of the bus. “Listen up, everybody! We’re going to go over the script together to make sure we’ve got it straight. What do we want?”
    “A meeting with the director!”
    “Where?”
    “In Altgeld!”
    “What if they say they’ll give us an answer later?”
    “We want an answer now!”
    “What if they do something we don’t expect?”
    “We caucus!”
    “Crackers!” Tyrone shouted.
    The CHA office was in a stout gray building in the center of the Loop. We filed off the bus, entered the lobby, and mashed onto the elevator. On the fourth floor, we entered a brightly lit lobby where a receptionist sat behind an imposing desk.
    “Can I help you?” she said, scarcely glancing up from her magazine.
    “We’d like to see the director, please,” Sadie said.
    “Do you have an appointment?”
    “He…” Sadie turned to me.
    “He knows we’re coming,” I said.
    “Well, he’s not in the office right now.”
    Sadie said, “Could you please check with his deputy?”
    The receptionist looked up with an icy stare, but we stood our ground. “Have a seat,” she said finally.
    The parents sat down, and everyone fell into silence. Shirley started to light a cigarette, but Angela elbowed her in the ribs.
    “We’re supposed to be concerned about health, remember?”
    “It’s too late for me, girl,” Shirley muttered, but the pack went back into her purse. A group of men in suits and ties came out of the door behind the receptionist’s desk and gave our contingent the once-over as they walked to the elevator. Linda whispered something to Bernadette; Bernadette whispered back.
    “What’s everybody whispering for?” I asked loudly.
    The children giggled. Bernadette said, “I feel like I’m waiting to see the principal or something.”
    “You hear that, everybody,” I said. “They build these big offices to make you feel intimidated. Just remember that this is a
public
authority. Folks who work here are responsible to you.”
    “Excuse me,” the receptionist said to us, her voice rising to match mine. “I’ve been told that the director will not be able to see you today. You should report any problems you have to Mr. Anderson out in Altgeld.”
    “Look, we’ve already seen Mr. Anderson,” Bernadette said. “If the director’s not here, we’d like to see his deputy.”
    “I’m sorry but that’s not possible. If you don’t leave right now, I’ll have to call Security.”
    At that moment, the elevator doors opened and several TV film crews came in, along with various reporters. “Is this the protest about asbestos?” one of the reporters asked me.
    I pointed to Sadie. “She’s the spokesperson.”
    The TV crews began to set up, and the reporters took out their notebooks. Sadie excused herself and dragged me aside.
    “I don’t wanna talk in front of no cameras.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “I don’t know. I never been on TV before.”
    “You’ll be fine.”
    In a few minutes the cameras were rolling, and Sadie, her voice quavering slightly, held her first press conference. As she started to field questions, a woman in a red suit and heavy mascara rushed into the reception area. She smiled tightly at Sadie, introducing herself as the director’s assistant, Ms. Broadnax. “I’m so sorry that the director isn’t here,” Ms. Broadnax said. “If you’ll just come this way, I’m sure we can clear up this whole matter.”
    “Is there asbestos in all CHA units?” a reporter shouted.
    “Will the director meet with the parents?”
    “We’re interested in the best possible outcome for the residents,” Ms. Broadnax shouted over her shoulder. We followed her into a large room where several gloomy officials were already seated around a conference table. Ms. Broadnax remarked on how cute the children were and offered everyone coffee and doughnuts.
    “We don’t need doughnuts,” Linda said. “We need answers.”
    And that was it. Without a word from me, the parents found out that no tests had been done and obtained a promise that testing would start by the end of the day. They negotiated a meeting with the director, collected a handful of business cards, and thanked Ms. Broadnax for her time. The date of the meeting was announced to the press before we crammed back into the elevator to meet our bus. Out on the street, Linda insisted that I treat everybody, including the bus driver, to caramel popcorn. As the bus pulled away, I