Philanthropy, chapter 2

Tonya sat nervously across the small table from Dennis Franks. Reverend Billy sat to her left. She sipped nervously at the grande frappucino latte Franks had bought for her. Reverend Bill was sipping a bottle of mineral water, and Franks thoroughly enjoyed his latte. He had bought the same kind as Tonya, in an attempt to make her feel at ease.

But his mannerisms were those of a businessman with a task to accomplish. He didn't waste a lot of time beating around the bush.

Reverend Billy was also there to put her at ease, and to provide moral support.

"It ain't often that a rich white man comes into south side Atlanta to have coffee wid' a black girl." She looked at her coffee cup as they spoke, stealing occasional furtive glances at him.

"Yeah, well," he said, sipping at his latte, "I've never done it before. Reverend, you ever seen it happen?"

Reverend Billy wasn't as quick on the draw as his two companions. He just looked blankly from one to the other.

"So," said Tonya, "why are you here, Mista Rich White Man?"

"First of all," responded Frank, "I don't want to hear any bullshit about white man's guilt or southern shame or white privilege. If you start throwing that around, then I'm out of here and you can finish that latte by yourself."

"I didn't --"

"No, but you were going to. I'm not here because of that. You're a smart girl. You graduated from Douglass High with a 3.43 grade-point average. You ran for three years on the cross-country and track teams, and lettered every year. You were on the debate team your sophomore and junior years. And you were in the National Honor Society for four years. You were planning to go to college. What happened?"

Tonya swirled the coffee in her half-empty cup and answered in a flat voice, still not looking at Franks. "I was gonna go to Yale or Harvard. You know, Ivy League schools. I had the grades to do it. My teachers loved me, and the counselors thought I was gonna be a real feather in their cap. Then, the week before school started my senior year, a boy talked me into sleepin' wid'im. He said he was wearing a condom, but I didn't see one. Anyway, before Homecoming came around, I found out I was pregnant.

"I talked to Reverend Billy about what to do. He convinced me not to get an abortion. I didn't want to give up the baby, so I decided to keep it. Because I was pregnant, I dropped out of running. And I was so busy trying to get ready for the baby and keep my grades up, that I had to quit debate. I wasn't gonna quit high school, though. That's the one thing I didn't quit."

She sighed, took a sip, and continued. "Little Sarah was born the week before graduation. I almost couldn't walk across the stage to get my diploma, but nothin' was gonna stop me. But after that, I had to take care of my baby, so I got a job at Waffle House and I been workin' there ever since. My mama watches the baby while I'm at work, but she's an alcoholic and so sometimes I get home and the baby's in the same diaper she was wearing when I left."

She sighed again. "Ain't no way I can go to college with that kind of life hangin' round my neck."

"Where's the father?" Franks asked quietly.

"You mean the sperm donor?" she retorted angrily. "Last I heard, he was hustlin' something down on the Gulf Coast. I ain't seen him since graduation. He tried to sleep with me again after a graduation party, but I told him, number one, I'm still healin', and number two, don't you remember what happened the last time we did that? He was never a boyfriend, just a boy." Her voice trailed off into sadness.

"So, are you planning to work at Waffle House for the rest of your life?"

"Yes, unless I can get a job at Denny's instead." She looked up at him through her eyebrows, smiling at her little joke.

Franks smiled softly in reply. Then he took a long drag on his latte and said, "What if you could get a second chance at going to college?"

She snorted softly. "Do I look like I got a fairy godmother?" she asked her coffee cup.

"You might. I have a proposal for you. Have you ever heard of the Pinecone Foundation?"

Franks waited for a response and, not getting one, continued. "In a forest fire, all of the trees are burned and die, right? Well, the heat from the forest fire causes pine cones to open up, and their seeds drop out and get buried in the ash on the forest floor. Then the next spring, after lying there and soaking up water all winter, they sprout and grow into new trees. It's like the forest gets a second chance.

"The Pinecone Foundation exists to give kids like you a second chance. Tell me: what were you going to study at Yale or Harvard?"

"Accounting," she muttered to her cup.

"They told me you were good at math. How were you going to pay for your education?"

"A lotta hard work." She chuckled sadly, even though it wasn't really a joke.

"I don't think you can work enough in four years to pay for those schools."

"Yeah well, it's all a mute point now. I ain't goin' anywhere." She leaned back in her chair and fixed him with a look of despair and apathy.

"Moot point," he said.

"What?"

"Moot point, not mute. It's a legal term. It means something that's fake, or something that doesn't matter anymore."

"It sure doesn't."

He caught the wit in the reply. "You've got a sharp mind. An accounting degree from Yale would serve you well. You could get a job as a CPA anywhere. Or you could go to business school, get an MBA, and get a job as a junior executive somewhere."

"Somewhere, like where?"

"How about Procter & Gamble, in Cincinnati?"

Her eyes sparkled. "Ooh! I ain't never been to Cincinnati!" Then the sparkle died, and she slumped in her chair again. "And I ain't never gonna get there, either."

He leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. Although she hadn't looked at him much, his eyes had never left her during the entire conversation. Reverend Billy sat on the side, content to be a spectator in this exchange.

"I want - the Foundation wants - to pay for your schooling. We will pay for tuition, books, Internet access, rent, utilities, groceries, diapers for your little one, day care, a computer, even a cellphone. We'll even pay for you to come home and visit on the holidays, if you want."

Skeptical, Tonya asked, "What do I gotta do in return?"

"Get accepted. Pass all your classes. Graduate. And be a good mama to your baby. That's all."

"Uh-huh. And do you get to be my sugar daddy? Do I have to sleep with you?"

Franks smiled. He wasn't offended; in fact, he had been expecting this question. He shook his head and said, "You get your own two-bedroom apartment. The only person you have to sleep with is your own little girl."

"I ain't never had my own apartment. Hell, I ain't never even had my own bed."

"I'll introduce you to Charmaine. She's 25, and she works at the foundation. She'll teach you how to cook, and clean your own apartment, do your laundry, and do your grocery shopping - in fact, she'll go shopping with you until think you can handle it on your own. She'll take you clothes shopping before school starts, because you're going to need a new wardrobe."

Tonya's eyes started to glaze over, as she allowed herself to believe this was true. "Wait - wait. There has to be a catch. Nobody's this generous - not to a total stranger, and def'nit'ly not to a black girl wid' a baby from the South Side."

Franks stared at her, not moving. Then he asked, "So, is that a yes or a no?"

She looked to the preacher: "Reverend Billy?"

"Remember what Cuba Gooding Junior said."

She furrowed her brow, thinking hard. "What? 'Show me the money'?" She laughed, but the laughter was a mix of puzzlement and crazy hope. "Mista Franks, show me the money."

He smiled and waggled his eyebrows. "First, you get accepted at a school. Then I'll show you the money." He watched the crazy hope fade away. "Yes or no?"

Franks was rather disappointed. He had been expecting a more positive reaction. Tonya swirled her empty cup slowly on the table in front of her. "If I say yes, what happens?"

"Well, applying for college is hard work. So we'll help you do that. Tomorrow morning at 9, Charmaine will pick you up and bring you to the office. You can bring your baby if you want. We have several secretaries who are grandmothers, and they will fuss over her for hours. They'll pass her back and forth, and you won't have to worry about her for a minute. You and Charmaine can sit at a computer, decide which schools to apply to, and fill in the applications."

He paused, then said, "It'll take more than one day. You might need to quit your job."

"But I can't do that!" Tonya exclaimed.

"Nonsense. Getting into school is now your full-time job."

"But I need the money!"

"Tonya, let's talk for a minute about want versus need. Yes, you need the money. But do you want to go to college?"

"Well yeah, but I can't quit just for a couple of days of applyin', and then weeks of waitin'! What if they say no? Then I got no school and no job!"

Franks smiled gently. "You still don't understand. That's okay. You will have the money. We'll give you $120 for every day you spend at the Foundation, researching schools and filling out applications. We will pay you $120 for every day that you are out with Charmaine or someone else, buying clothes and supplies, and learning how to drive."

"Drive?"

"Well, if you're going to be independent, you're going to need a car."

The girl gasped.

"And if there's still time left over, we will offer you a job at the Foundation. We have a lot of work you can do."

Her eyes started filling with tears, and then she blinked them back. Her lower lip started to quiver, so she bit it. She stared at the logo on the coffee cup she was holding, as if it were the most important thing in the universe.

"So, yes or no?"

"I really don't have to sleep witcha?"

"Really."

She glanced at Reverend Billy. He finally spoke.

"Girl, what are you waiting for? Why are you even questioning this? Think of little Sarah! Don't you want something better for her? Think of all the dreams you had in high school, the ones you gave up on. What if you could make all those dreams come true after all?"

He continued, "Do you know how much MONEY they're offering you? This is tens of thousands - a couple hundred thousand - dollars! And all you have to do is be good, and do what you do best! Don't be a fool, girl! Say yes to the man."

Tonya looked past Franks and fixed her gaze on the windows on the other side of the coffee shop. Her eyes started filling with tears again, and this time she didn't blink them away. Her lower lip trembled, her chin seemed to disappear, and her eyes got lost in the flood of tears that poured down her cheeks and on to the table top. Unashamed, she sat there, shoulders convulsing as she wept silently, having realized what was being offered and the changes it would bring.

Franks didn't move. To move would have broken the spell.

Reverend Billy, taking his cue from Franks, didn't move either. When he started getting fidgety, he played Four Tops songs in his mind, taking care not to hum aloud. He had finished "Ain't No Woman (Like the One I've Got)" and was halfway through "Yesterday's Dreams" when Tonya's sobbing subsided, she dried her eyes and the table with a Starbucks napkin, and looked Dennis Franks in the eye.

"Yes," she said faintly.

One side of Franks' mouth smiled. "You're sure?"

She took a deep breath, smiled a huge smile, and almost shouted, "Yes!"

Then the other half of his mouth smiled. "Charmaine will pick you up at 9 tomorrow morning. Don't be late." He stood up, shook Reverend Billy's hand, and stuck his hand out for Tonya to shake. She looked at his hand, then slowly stood up, wrapped her arms around him and embraced him tightly.

She let go of him and whispered, "Thank you." He smiled at her once more, then turned and walked out the door.