by Angela Ardis
ETERNALLY
2PAC (Signed)
“Married? Married?” Tanya ranted.
“Yup, married. I get it . . . I mean, he wants overnight visits. It’s a means to an end,” I said, tossing the idea away.
“This doesn’t bother you?” she asked, watchful of my reaction.
“Yeah, it bothered me at first. But there is a method to his madness. He’s doing what he has to do, to appease the state, to get what he wants,” I said nonchalantly. “I can relate to that. Can’t you?” I said, popping in his Me Against the World CD and sitting on the couch.
“No . . . I’m sure she’s not aware of his intentions.”
“They have a special relationship. She’s his Queen,” I said sarcastically. “They share the same thoughts and have no secrets. Besides, they are two adults, so who cares what the reasons are?”
She gave me a look that implied I was being irrational. Tupac’s relationship with Keisha was the last thing on my mind. Besides, his minimum time of release was at least a year and a half away anyway. A lot could happen between now and then. “So why speculate now?” I thought.
“You’re right. Two adults,” Tanya said. “So he’s gonna go to the cabin with you while he’s married to her?”
“Well, if the marriage is one of temporary gratification, then maybe they won’t stay married once he’s released. He’s the one who said he’s interested in personal commitment and not marriage!” I was getting irritated. “I guess I’m in a catch twenty-two because my intentions for him are the same as his for me at this point. I’m not trying to disregard Keisha, but right or wrong, the way I’m feeling, if he were in front of me right now . . .”
“You’d jump him,” she finished. We looked at each other knowingly.
Whether my initial intentions had been wishes, which had turned into surprised friendship, which had turned into lust, I knew that not so deep in my heart, I wanted nothing more than to explore everything that we had ever written to one another on the pages of our letters and poetry. And more.
“Yeah . . . well, that’s a long time away, and that will be dealt with when the time comes,” I said.
“You want anything from the store?” she asked.
“Yeah, a conscience.” I smirked. “Naw, I’m cool. Thanks.”
“I can’t believe you’re going to marry her, Pac” I said, watching the crests fall as the waves hit the shore.
“Let’s not talk about it again. We’ve already been there, Angela,” Tupac said, holding me.
“What are we doing? What is this?”
“We are enjoying each other and taking advantage of every minute we get to share together. Baby, life is too short to worry about things that have no relevance to our thang, ” he said matter-of-factly, staring into my eyes with that everything’s-okay look.
“We don’t have anything if you’re spread out so thin between people that you begin to form the thin line that divides the reality between us. ”
“Angela, the reality between us is here now, today, at this moment. Who knows what tomorrow will bring, if it’ll come at all. Enjoy now. If tomorrow comes, we’ll worry about it then. It’s the moment, and now is ours,” he said, pulling my face to his. He brushed his nose along my neckline and inhaled slightly.
“You are so full of poetic shit,” I mumbled.
“I love the way you smell;” he crooned. I closed my eyes as his masculinity held me hostage. “What are you thinking, Ms. Lovely?” he whispered in my ear.
My hands made their way up his back as we looked into each other’s eyes and smiled.
“What are you thinking about?” Tanya asked, coming in the door and passing me on the couch.
“I don’t believe this keeps happening,” I said, going to my room. “Every time. Every single time. I guess I’m just not meant to kiss him.”
“Kiss who?” I heard her yell.
Hey Pac,
I got your letter. Married? That one blindsided me, but I understand your reasoning. You have to do what you have to do in this life to make yourself happy. As long as you’re smiling, it’s all good. I didn’t mean your letters lacked substance. You just seemed a little down. Didn’t mean to offend you, if I did. I’ll be there very soon. I guess you’ll be married by the time I get there. Congratulations in advance. I guess.
I read the article you did in Vibe magazine again. I just don’t understand why no one stepped up to the plate and informed the police or judge or whoever that you weren’t even in the room. I mean, if anyone in there was true to you, they would have. I guess I just answered my own statement. They weren’t true to you. It’s sad sometimes when it takes such drastic circumstances to make us open our eyes and realize who’s really there for us and who’s not. We tend to be so trusting that, many times, we get sideswiped by the foulest of people, all in the name of trust.
Anyway . . . I can’t wait to see you. I’m anxious and ready for the days to pass. I guess it didn’t take 4 months after all, huh? How do you feel about this? I don’t have any expectations that I can think of. Do you have some? What are they, if you do? I hope our bond in five years will be the kind of bond that friendships should be. We call each other anytime, recognize when we are up or down, and always be there emotionally. Respect, cherish, and teach each other how to be better, more well-rounded people. Just being cool and keeping it real for life, like we said. This is real, and no one will ever be able to take this away from us. Can you feel me?
Don’t you dare stop writing me poetry and letters. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder?” Damn my heart growing fonder. It’s going to do that anyway. We are not playing games and withholding in order to make me miss you. Real, Pac, real. Besides, I’ll starve. Don’t starve me. Continue to feed me, as I will you, Boo. The countdown is on!
Forever,
Angela
P.S. Midnight will always be yours. See you tonight.
Chapter 18
THE TRIP
I couldn’t sleep. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It was 3 A.M. I had only five more hours to go before the plane left.
Five more hours.
It seemed like such a long time ago that I had accepted a bet, and the absurdity of it ran rampant in my mind. I looked across the room and saw the shadows of my luggage against the wall. I couldn’t stand the restlessness and got up to get some water. I bumped into Tanya as I was returning to my room.
“You can’t sleep either, huh?” I asked, walking to the sliding glass doors and opening them, then we took a seat on the couch.
“Worried?”
“No. Just . . . ready to be there and get all of this buildup over with.”
“It’ll be all right, Ann.”
“I know,” I responded. “But if I don’t get some sleep, I’m going to look like a monster.”
“You’ll look fine. You can always sleep on the plane.”
“With all this anxiety? Please.”
There was a knock on the front door. We both looked at each other and smiled in the darkness. Rising to my feet, I closed the glass door as Tanya headed to welcome the persistent knocker.
“Looks like I’m not the only one who’s not gonna sleep tonight,” I said to myself, going into my room and closing the door. I lay across my bed, eyes wide open.
Four more hours.
My alarm went off, and I hit the snooze button. Somewhere along the way, I had finally fallen asleep. I nestled myself back under the covers, and in what seemed like hours, I jumped up disoriented. I remembered why I couldn’t sleep in the first place. I knew I had to pick up Tupac’s cousin. I looked over at my answering machine, and it wasn’t blinking. Which meant his cousin hadn’t called. I stood in the middle of the floor, staring at the clock but not seeing the time. My alarm had been set for 4:45 A.M. The clock read 4:51 A.M. It hadn’t been hours, just minutes. I wasn’t late. I hadn’t missed my plane. I was just tripping. My scale was tilted, and I was trying to find some balance. I took a deep breath and sluggishly
found my way to the shower. I applied my face, dressed, took a deep breath, picked up my bags, and walked into the living room. It was 5:45 A.M. and I didn’t want to wake Tanya, so I left her a note. I was putting my bags in my trunk when I heard the apartment door open. Tanya came out half asleep.
“I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Have fun,” she said sincerely.
“I will. Thanks.”
“Call me when you get there and give me a number where you’re staying,” she said. “And be careful. You do have the emergency number, right?”
“What emergency number?” I asked.
“Nine-one-one! Don’t forget it!”
“Yes, Mother.”
“You do have extra change for a phone call?”
“Times have changed, Tan. They have things called calling cards now, and I have one. Now get in the house before you wake up all the neighbors and make me late.”
I arrived in Decatur, at Thug Mansion, at about 6:30 A.M. Tupac’s cousin was waiting, and we headed to the airport. Our plane was due to leave somewhere around 8 A.M., and we arrived at airport parking at 7 A.M. We checked our bags and headed to the gate. It looked like it was going to be a pretty full flight. The sun began to brighten the terminal as I watched the bustling crowd and the workers scurrying about trying to make sure everything was in its proper place. Time seemed to have slowed down, as if I, and everyone around me, was moving in slow motion. Tupac’s cousin was talking to me and I was responding, but I didn’t know what we were saying. I was aware that we had begun boarding the plane. The ticket agent took my boarding pass, handing me back my stub. I stared at it, then back at her. I saw her lips mouth, “Have a nice flight,” and I smiled as I went through the doorway. I turned around and Tupac’s cousin was behind me, still sleepy and yawning, but looking like this was just another trip. I’m sure it was for him. We found our seats and buckled in. He closed his eyes almost immediately. Shortly thereafter, we hit the runway.
I loved the way it felt when the plane took off. The speed exhilarated me as my heart pounded faster and faster. While the plane raced up the runway, reality slapped me in the face. Hard. What are you doing? rang in my head so loud that I looked around to see if Tupac’s cousin had been awakened by the noise. He remained calm, however. Are you crazy? Have you really thought this out full? I thought. The plane began to lift off, and whether or not I truly knew what I was doing, whether or not I was crazy, or whether or not I had thoroughly thought this out was all irrelevant and immaterial. I closed my eyes as we continued to ascend, knowing the reality was that I was on a plane bound for New York and I was going to meet Tupac Amaru Shakur.
I vaguely remember Tupac’s cousin asking me if I wanted something to drink. When I opened my eyes again, the plane was flying over New York City. We seemed so close to the buildings, I felt like I could reach out and touch ’em. What is going on down there? I thought. The hustle and bustle, the people running here and there, everyone with somewhere to go, somewhere they needed to be. I must come back and see this place, I thought to myself. The plane flew over a huge section of buildings, cement and red in color.
“What’s that?” I asked Tupac’s cousin
“Rikers Island. Pac was there,” he said, leaning back in his seat.
“Yeah,” I said quietly.
Just a couple of months ago, I had picked up my phone and made a call to this place I was now flying over. A bet had coerced me into writing a letter to a man who had been in this huge mass of cement that I was now flying over. That man had received my letter and made a call to me three days later from inside this structure that I was now flying over. A woman—me—without a clue but with a heart filled with hope, was on her way to see the man who had made the call after receiving the letter and who had been housed inside these walls that I was now flying over.
I felt like the pause button had been pressed on this moment in my life. No one would have thought it would have gone this far. Especially me.
Chapter 19
THE VISIT
The plane eventually landed, and Tupac’s cousin and I retrieved our bags and headed for the hotel. After checking in, I changed to a fitted ankle-length dress, and we headed out. The sun was shining as we got into a cab and rode to the ferry that would take us to Clinton Correctional Facility.
This part of New York, about 300 miles north of New York City and near the Canadian border, reminded me of Michigan. There was a faint hint of burnt leaves mixed with something sweet and floral in the air. It was cool outside, but the coolness didn’t warrant a jacket.
The ferry pulled up in front of the prison. The prison didn’t seem very large from where I stood, but it looked weathered. We walked through a series of checkpoints, and Tupac’s cousin signed us in. We waited in a cold cement room filled with file cabinets and old, used office equipment. His cousin sat patiently, while my mind raced a thousand miles a minute. The sun played hide-and-seek behind a wall, then finally shone in unobstructed.
“You’re nervous, huh?” his cousin asked, smirking.
I forced a half-smile. “Yeah.”
“Just relax. He’s cool. You have nothing to worry about,” he assured me.
I took a deep breath and stared out the window towards the sun.
We had been sitting in the cement room for what seemed like an eternity when one of the guards finally escorted us to the visiting room. I hesitated as we reached the doorway. Tupac might already be in there, waiting. There was little time to compose myself. I held my breath as we entered, and to my relief, he wasn’t there.
The room was medium-size, with four rows of red seats divided by a piece of wood that formed a table. We were the only visitors. I wasn’t certain if it was a slow day or if this had been arranged because Tupac was a celebrity. The guard, who sat on a raised platform in the corner, informed us that Tupac would be arriving shortly. “It takes ’em a few to bring him down,” he stated matter-of-factly.
Tupac’s cousin showed me where the vending machines were across the hall, and I purchased a soft drink and some candy. We returned to the visiting room, and I walked around to the windows, nervous and antsy. I finally sat back down and pretended to be relaxed while sipping my drink. After a while, I heard gates clicking and clanking. I couldn’t stand it. Initially, the sounds were off in the distance, but each one got closer and closer. I felt like I was having a slight anxiety attack. There had been so much buildup towards this moment, and now, he was just steps from being in front of me. I jumped up from the table again.
“I’ll be back,” I told his cousin.
“All right.” He laughed.
“It’s not funny,” I said with a smile, walking towards the door, heading in the direction of the vending machine.
As I reached the hallway, out of my peripheral vision I could see an image in blue bottoms walking with a guard. The image had hair, so as I continued to cross the hall, I told myself it wasn’t Tupac because Tupac was bald. I breathed deeply, got a hot chocolate, and started back. I could hear his cousin laughing with someone. I knew it wasn’t the guard because the guard wasn’t talking, let alone laughing. Could that figure have been Tupac? I thought, as my heart began to race again.