“Oh, gentlemen, you know what I just noticed? We are one over. The limit is fifteen for my group.” She looked over at me and offered another one of her smiles. “Since you’re new and all to the group, you are going to have to wait for the next round. I don’t have another pen pal right now.”
I nodded.
Tyson snickered at me like I was really missing out on something and whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll share my zus-zus and wham-whams with you baby.”
I held in my laugh as the pastor’s wife spoke to me. “But I will keep your paper in case we get another person. I doubt it, though. The church members are busy with their own lives. It’s a struggle to get the fifteen that I have now to help me out with this charity. But I try to remind them that if it were them behind these ugly walls day in and day out, it might bring some joy to their day to get a friendly letter from someone, even if you don’t know them.”
She grabbed her Bible and opened it up. “’Now today, gentlemen, we will be studying the Book of Job.”
It was hard for me to focus on what she was saying. I always believed in God, but I couldn’t understand how he could punish me this way. He took away everything that meant something to me. I was stuck in this hell. If this is not what God wanted for me, why didn’t he put a stop to this?
Chapter 12
The next week I was rolling up my mat and getting ready to tie my sheet around it so I could work out. Tyson had finally got his meeting with the committee. When the guard came to escort him we played it off like it was nothing. On one hand, I was just as excited as he was that this day was finally here and they were going to either keep him or let him go. But on the other hand, I didn’t want to lose Tyson.
He rushed into the cell. “Aye yo. Chance.” He was out of breath and stood in front of me.
“What’s up?”
He looked around at the other cells near us to make sure no one was listening or looking. But you never could really tell, they knew how to play their ear hustling shit off.
He sat on his bunk and tossed a paper to me with his eyebrows raised.
I nodded, unfolded the letter and scanned it, knowing Tyson didn’t want the info on the letter being passed to anyone else. The letter showed that he was approved for a release from prison! I kept my face normal in case I was being watched.
Tyson had already told me the night before, “I don’t want anyone else knowing but you, ’cause you my boy. Remember what I told you before. I’m not trying to have no niggas in here smoke my release date,” he had whispered.
I nodded again and handed him the paper back. I simply stared at him, silently saying congratulations.
He got it.
“Thanks, man.”
I looked down. I’m not gonna say I wasn’t happy for him—I was—but damn, I would be stuck in here by myself and more importantly I would be stuck.
“Don’t trip. You got good news coming soon.”
I waved a hand at him and picked up my mat. I lifted it over my head, squatted, and lowered my tone. “I’m happy for you, man. I’m gonna miss you, but it’s good you’re getting out. I have to admit that sometimes I don’t think it will ever be the same for me.”
He stood and crossed his arms over his chest. “How you know?”
I squatted again. “I don’t. I’m just saying how I feel more times than not.”
“Your name is Chance, not God, dude. If I had that defeated type of attitude you have, I would never have tried to get out. I would still be here.”
I blew air out of my nose and inhaled through my mouth.
He shook his head at me. It was clear I wasn’t trying to hear what he was saying.
I squatted and lifted the mat in the air and held it for five seconds.
“Chance, if I ain’t taught you nothing, you always remember this: You let somebody else tell you no. You don’t tell yourself no.”
“Yeah? What if they told you that you had twenty years?”
“Then I’d fight for twenty fucking years until they let me out.”
“With life?”
“I’d fight for the rest of my fucking life if I was in here for some shit I didn’t do. Fuck that, they would give me my life back. I wouldn’t sit around and wait to die in here. I’d fight as long as I fucking could, Chance.”
I sat the mat down and tried to catch my breath all while taking in what he was saying.
“I’m just saying, man. Try. You got so much to offer this jacked-up world. You don’t belong in prison. They know it, so I don’t even know why they sent you here. I could give a fuck what a witness said.”
I laughed at that.
Guys had been leaving left and right for their visit. I wasn’t expecting one and Tyson never got a visit, so we both were surprised when a guard gave me a piece of paper with my mother’s name on it.
I cursed under my breath. I had told my mom the last time she came not to come back for another visit. It was a day I didn’t like to think about. I had hurt my mother really badly.
It was the same week that Toi and her dude had come. Seeing my mother that Sunday was not something I was looking forward to and to make matters worse, that punk ass Roscoe was making all kinds of comments about my mother as I walked to the visiting room.
“Your mama single, Wallace?”
I ignored him.
“Come on nigga, you can tell me.”
I didn’t reply, just kept walking.
“Man, I sure wouldn’t mind hitting that pussy.”
I stopped walking. I balled my fist and clenched my teeth. I was going to turn and swing on that muthafucka. But just as I was, I though about going back to solitary and getting another charge.
He shoved me. “Walk, muthafucka!”
I unballed my fist and walked.
“What you think, your mammy too good for a nigga like me? Shit, I heard different. The guard that was there the day you got sentenced said she don’t even know who your daddy is. And if that shit ain’t embarrassing enough, the bitch used to sell her box.”
I stopped walking and turned to face him.
When he saw my frowned-up face, his grin faded and he looked a little shook.
“Look, muthafucka. Keep my mama name out your mouth.”
Then, as if he remembered that he was the one with the power, he pulled out his baton, put it against my throat, shoved me against a wall, and got all up in my face.
“Yeah, muthafucka? And if I don’t, what the fuck you gonna do about it?”
I looked at him with hatred because I did hate his ass.
“Reality is you ain’t shit, nigga. You ain’t got power to do shit to me or anyone else. If I want to fuck, I’ll take her ass in the bathroom, fuck her, and kick her out without a visit. You gonna learn not to fuck with me. You should have just sold that shit like I asked you to, then you wouldn’t be having these problems. ’Cause one way or another you gonna sell the shit for me. And believe me, your problems are just starting with me.”
He pressed the baton to my neck so hard that I was choking.
My eyes continued to lock with his as he held it there.
After a few seconds, another guard yelled, “Roscoe, you need some help over there?”
“Naw. I’m good.”
He moved his baton from my neck and shoved me ahead of him.“Walk, nigga.”
When I finally made it to where visiting was I didn’t waste any time. I sat down quickly. Calhoun wasn’t with her this time. I told my mom simply, “Don’t come back here to see me, Mom. Pretend that your son is dead.”
Alarm and hurt hit her face but I didn’t sit there long enough to hear her response. I stood, pushed the chair in, and walked away toward the guard. Nevertheless, I could not get her hurt face out of my head.
It had been a while since I had seen her. During that time, Calhoun still came and told me that I needed to stop tripping and see my mother. But when I told him the situation he understood and said he would probably fuck the guard up if he had said some
thing like that about his mother. “But you did good just shutting up. A lot of times you’re going to have to let a lot of shit roll off your shoulders in here,” he said. “And your mom. I’ll talk to her and I’m sure she will understand.”
“Thanks, man.”
“No problem.”
Not being able to see my mom was killing me. She had been writing me letters, though, as if nothing bad had transpired. In her letters she told me that she was still working for that elderly woman, Ellen as her in-home health care aide. Ellen and my mom had so much history that when she found out my mother was homeless, she let her stay in her house even though Ellen’s daughter didn’t approve. Ellen had a block on her phone, according to my mama. But my mama said she was going to get a cell phone and sign up for some type of private service where she could put money on her phone and I would be allowed to call her. As much as I wanted to talk to her, I couldn’t help but be bothered by the fact that my mother had to stay with the person she worked for. I appreciated Ellen opening her home to my mom, but at any moment she or her family could have a change of heart and throw my mother out on the street. Then where would she live? The guilt of my mama not really having a stable home killed me.
She said she was putting her checks away for my lawyer. But with her only making minimum wage and her not getting full-time hours I knew that wasn’t a possibility. We were starting from a zero balance, because not only did Toi take the money for the house but she cleaned out my bank accounts.
“Just go see her,” Tyson said, snapping me out of my trance.
I stared down at the paper with my mother’s name on it and nodded to myself.
“And you know what? Roscoe’s not here today.”
“He’s not?” I asked, surprised. He was not a staff known to miss work. I knew he always worked visiting so he could check out all the ladies that would be coming in. See, the thing was I did not want my mother to come anymore because I didn’t know how long I could hold myself back from fucking Roscoe up for disrespecting my mother and making the comments he made about her. It was always a struggle for me not to put hands on him. The last run-in with him I came really close to knocking the shit out of him.
When I got to the table my mother was seated at I noticed how anxious and skinny she looked. I had to look away.
I sat across from her, still not giving her eye contact. “Mama, I told you not to come back—” My voice trailed off at the sight of her shaking hands on the table in front on me.
“We have to do this quickly, Chance,” she whispered.
My eyes shot to her face. I narrowed my eyes at her and asked, “Do what?”
She looked around and slid her hand under the table.
“Mama, what are you doing?”
“Shh and do what I say. Slide your hands under the table,” she instructed.
But before I could even move a finger, two guards rushed my mother like she was a man!
They leaped over the table and knocked her out of the chair.
She fell to backward, crashing hard on the floor. One more rushed over to us and they all crowded around my mother. She didn’t move. She just lay in the spot they dropped her in and buried her face in her forearms.
One of the guards bent over and pulled her up by her hair.
“You muthafuckas ain’t gotta handle her like that!” I yelled. “That’s my fucking mama!” I was grabbed by three other guards before I could rush forward. Two secured both my forearms and the other hooked his hand around my throat.
“It’s okay, Chance,” she said, crying.
“Shut the fuck up!” the guard who grabbed her by her hair yelled.
She nodded and closed her eyes.
I watched tears fall from them and felt some slip from my eyes. Being helpless to stop them from doing my mother like that made me feel like shit.
Every time I moved the hand around my neck tightened.
“Don’t fucking move,” he whispered in my ear.
They twisted my mama’s skinny arms up so tight I thought they were going to pop. Then they applied handcuffs.
The guard still had her ponytail from his tight grip.
“Get off of her!” I raged.
I struggled against the guards. “Y’all some dirty-ass muthafuckas!”
“Oh yeah?” one of them whispered.
“Yeah, you bitch . . . ass . . . muthafucka!” My voice got an octave louder with each word.
I tried to twist my body out of their grasp. That’s when they tased me.
Chance,
How you doing baby? Listen. Don’t worry about me. I’m okay. I just hope and pray that you are okay in there. I know what I’m about to say will get you upset which is why I almost don’t want to tell you. But I’m sure you are wondering why I did what I did. I had been getting calls. I was surprised because I had never given the number out to anyone. The person calling started to threaten me. They told me that if I didn’t bring the drugs into the prison that they were going to hurt you and they knew where I stayed. After all the stuff you have been going through I couldn’t let nothing else happen to you in there. At first I ignored the calls then they started getting more frequent and then I couldn’t sleep at night because when I did close my eyes, Chance, it never failed, I would have this nightmare about a man being stabbed. That man was you. Then that person started getting worse. He wouldn’t give up. So I realized I could not let anything bad happen to you on account of me not doing what he asked me to do. I am so sorry. Maybe I should have gone to the cops. I know with me in here I can’t do much for you. Anyhow, I pleaded guilty and took a deal so the judge sentenced me to only four years. They said it could have been worse with my past and all. It’s not so bad in here. I work at the prison on the cleaning crew and whatnot. You know me. My regret about all of this is that I’m no help to you. All of this is killing me to know you are still in there, Chance. Lord knows you don’t deserve this hell. I’d gladly take your place if it meant you could come home. What I did was dumb. But I know why I did it. You are still alive so for me it was worth it. I love you and I hope you can write back. I’m not giving up hope. You are going to get out of there.
Ma
I needed to stop reading that letter. I did. All it did was heighten my anger.
They had my mama in jail like she was a fucking convict.
I took a deep breath.
“You good, Chance?”
I nodded at Tyson.
But I was far from good. My situation was getting worse and worse.
After the incident with my mother being arrested, I was given another charge that added five more years to my time.
“I know it’s hard, man. I’m not going to bullshit you. So if you want to talk, I’m here. But I’m not going to press you to if you don’t want to. My mother is dead. But if she was alive and something like that happened to her, I probably would have killed somebody.”
I believed him. At first, when he told me the story about being on the Olympic team, I didn’t believe him. But after seeing him whip ass I knew he was telling the truth.
Still I didn’t respond. Tyson was the only friend I had in the whole prison. I was now accepted with the blacks but to me it was like I accepted them. I didn’t trust any of them. I only trusted Tyson and I didn’t want to take my frustration out of him.
“Who do you think did that shit, man? Threatened her?”
I shrugged. “Could be anybody.” Truth was, I didn’t want to think about who did it. Not knowing would stop me from going after them. The image of the guards manhandling my mama popped in my head again. I wiped away a tear that escaped before anyone could see it. “One more day for me and I’m out this bitch, man!”
I tried to offer a smile but I couldn’t bring myself to. Not just because of what was going on with my mother, but because by the next morning Tyson was getting out. Now we could safely discuss it. I was losing my only friend in there. Seems like time was going by so damn fast. But then again, why did I care whether t
ime sped up? I was spending the rest of my life in there. The sinking feeling hit me again about my situation.
To clear my mind I started asking Tyson questions. “What’s the first thing you going to do when you get out?”
His head snapped back and he narrowed his eyes. “You need to ask, nigga? The fuck you think? I’m going to get knee-deep in some gushy, mushy pussy.”
He crouched down low with the words gushy, mushy pussy.
I was lying back on my bed while he stood near me doing dips.
Sex was something I didn’t think about anymore. Jacking off with fee fees or fucking the punks were the only ways to bust a nut in here. Tyson and I always reverted to the fee fees, which was getting a sock or a torn-up rag or even a latex glove, putting it over our dicks and jacking off.
“Man, I can’t wait.” He crouched down and came back up.
“I know.”
“Then I’m gonna go to my favorite restaurant and eat. You know how long I been wanting to get into some of Roscoe’s fried chicken and waffles?”
I chuckled.
“And man, I gotta have some of M and M’s oxtails and rice with some corn bread, dawg.”
I smiled, thinking of my mother. She cooked so good she could have opened up her own soul food restaurant. “My mom use to make the best oxtails.”
He paused for a moment, regretting, I think, bringing oxtails up. ’Cause it got me all depressed all over again.
“What else you plan on doing?” I asked, trying to shake it.
“I always wanted to go to Magic City!”
“It ain’t out here.”
“I know! I plan on taking a trip to Atlanta. For me, the sky’s the limit. God gave me a second chance. I feel like I should take the time to really start living now.”
“You should.”
“I’m gonna see what’s left of my career too. Maybe I can coach kids or something.”
I nodded.
He wiped the sweat off his brow and continued exercising.
“Maybe.” I wasn’t giving him a lot of conversation back.
He could tell. So he tried to cheer me up.
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