Let's call it...my redemption

I thought to myself, after what happened, after what I did, that I needed to do something. Something to make right what I had done wrong. So I started thinkin' of ways to make the money back, my father's blood money, my sister's tuition, our only prospect of leaving our old lives behind. My mind settled on Willy, Willy Harris. The man who I trusted my father's insurance money with, the man who done run off with the cash in the middle of the night, a man with no sense of right or wrong; the man who got what he wanted. The way he lived his life gave me an idea, made me think of Lindner. That man wanted his neighborhood negro free so bad, he was willing to pay us not to move into it, something like that has to be just a message from god. Or a test. Because when it came right down to it, I knew that if I were to take his money, I would never be able to hold my head up high and call myself a man. Unfortunately, I'd already called him over, so I would have to do something. And I did, when it came right down to it, I stuck with my convictions and told that white man off! He could do whatever he wished with his money, but I was getting my family out of the ghetto and into a life where they could rest easier. In a way, albeit not the way I had intended, I think I did make right. I think I did the right thing.