by Angela Ardis
Then I heard the familiar laugh. My heart began to beat slow, deep, and hard. It was definitely Tupac. I couldn’t move. C’mon, you’ve talked to him before, I told myself. The letters, the poetry. You’re fine. You’re familiar. Go in. Now! Go in!
“Okay. Okay. Okay. It’s cool,” I whispered to myself. It felt like my feet were stuck in cement.
“Where’d she go?” I heard Tupac ask.
All of a sudden, my feet felt like feathers and I was moving. It was strange. A coolness came over me as I entered the room.
“I’m right here,” I said, walking down the aisle, moving closer to Tupac and the chair that I so desperately needed to sit in. There was silence. He was smiling, his cousin was smiling, I was smiling, and if I saw correctly, I believe the guard actually had a smirk on his face.
Tupac and I maintained eye contact. It was definitely him I’d seen in the hallway. He had hair—a lot of hair—and he said he wasn’t going to cut it until he was released. He was also thinner than he looked in pictures and on television. But his eyes were big and beautiful, powerful, filled with sensation, filled with the aura that had caught my attention on that interview so long ago. My insides became ignited by his smile. He was high, I realized as I reached my chair, but he was there. I sat down slowly, and neither one of our smiles left our faces.
“Ms. Lovely,” he said slowly.
“Tupac,” I said, matching his tone.
“You’re even more beautiful than in your pictures.”
Now I was nervous again. Compliments embarrass me. I smiled. “Thank you,” I said shyly. “Finally.”
“Finally . . . Are you nervous?” he asked.
“Yes, a little,” I responded, lifting my quivering hand before him so that he could see it shake. We laughed. “You?”
“Yeah,” he said. We both looked at his cousin, who was amused.
“Whatchu laughin’ at?” I said, smiling.
“Ya’ll are funny,” he said.
“Anyway,” Tupac said, bringing those big, pretty eyes back in my direction. “I told Keisha you were coming today, and she was gonna come.”
“ ‘Gonna come?’” I asked hesitantly. “What happened? Why didn’t she?”
“She changed her mind.”
I exhaled inside. He must have sensed it because he gave me a “I-know-what’s-going-on-in-your-head” look.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, amused.
“I’m glad she didn’t come today. Tomorrow would be cool, but today? I’m nervous enough just meeting you. That would have shocked me if I’d walked in and she was sitting here,” I said with a dramatic pause.
“She would have been cool, though.”
“I’m sure she would have, but notice is cool, too,” I said, relieved that she hadn’t shown up. I had to get comfortable with him before I could try to ease the knowing jealousy of his Queen. Give me a break.
“She might come tomorrow.”
“That’s cool, Pac. Tomorrow will be fine.”
“Headbanger,” he purred, giving me a once-over.
“What?”
“Your dress.”
“My roommate thought I should wear something provocative, but I opted not to. I figured you get plenty of that.”
“Your roommate had a good thought, but you look good,” he laughed. “I would have liked to see more skin,” he joked.
“Use your imagination,” I said with a laugh. “We know how vivid it can be,” I crooned.
He stared at me for what seemed like minutes, saying nothing, smiling a silly smile. He had mentally left the room.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He said nothing. His cousin laughed, breaking Pac’s trance. I looked at the guard, and he shrugged with a smirk. Tupac gave me a full smile. What did he smoke? I thought to myself, smiling back at him. “You’re retarded,” I said to him.
“Ms. Lovely,” he said, as if giving the only right answer to a game-show question.
He turned to his cousin and began a conversation with him about happenings with Thug Mansion and the goings-on with certain business ventures and people. I sat there, watching him get serious, then laughing, then getting serious again. His eyebrows accentuated the many expressions his eyes reflected. I was calm. It felt so familiar at this point. The fear had subsided. The anticipation had gone. The nervousness had mellowed. I was sitting in front of Tupac, finally, and his aura was real.
In between the conversations with his cousin and the niceties we exchanged, we held hands, rubbing each other’s fingers and palms, each massaging the essence of our emotional high into the hands of the other. We talked about his projects, my photo shoots for my portfolio, our work, our life, and our poetry. He was so different from what I’d pictured all these years. He was not given justice by the media. Granted, he had done some things that warranted the publicity he had received, but right now, at that moment, he was someone I had never seen depicted. I had always thought he just really needed a hug. And before it was all over, I was going to give him one.
Before I realized it, our time was up. Tupac looked at me with those eyes and that smile.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked boyishly.
“Yes.”
We both stood. I took a glance at the guard in the corner, as if asking him for permission. Tupac cleared his throat. I smiled.
“You nervous?” he asked.
“I’m as nervous as you are.” We both laughed and leaned on the table. I was hesitant. I just knew that something would interrupt this moment. It wouldn’t have surprised me if Tanya waltzed through the door just as our eyes closed, or if the guard yelled out “Stop” just as we took our last breath, or if his Queen threw her hand between our mouths as our lips began to touch. Something—anything—was going to disrupt this moment. But as the closeness grew and our breaths danced with each other, our eyes locked for that final two seconds, then darkness . . .
Our lips touched. His were so soft and full, forceful but tender. His left hand found its way to the side of my breast, and I let out a small sigh. Our tongues searched each other’s mouth with such familiarity and wanting. I opened my eyes once to make sure it was him I was kissing, that I wasn’t dreaming, that this moment wasn’t an illusion. It was him. Definitely him. I closed my eyes again and lost myself in our moment. I didn’t care if his cousin was watching. I didn’t care if the guard was mad. And I didn’t care, at that moment, that someone who wasn’t there would be upset at the sight of this. This was my moment. No, our moment. This was a kiss that engulfed our letters, that wrapped itself around our poetry, that stroked the star we found every night, that held the promises made between two souls, that encompassed the midnight ritual that still lingered in that special place, and that was now swollen with a wanting for more. He moaned, his tongue still probing, but free and content. After what seemed like several minutes, we both started smiling, still kissing, still exploring. Then our lips met again and again and again. Our eyes slowly opened, smiles remaining.
“Damn, Ms. Lovely! Umm umm umm,” he whispered softly. “And you taste good.”
“You too, Pac. You too,” I said, rubbing my hand slowly down his cheek. I could hear the footsteps of the guards. I looked over at the one in the corner, and he smiled. I focused my attention back on Tupac as he said some words to his cousin about tomorrow. He turned to me as his cousin started walking towards the door.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said softly, leaning in again.
“Okay,” I whispered, my words smothered by the fullness of his lips.
“I wish I could have held you so your perfume would be on my shirt,” he smiled. “But I guess I’ll just have to go back and sniff an envelope.” We both laughed. “Bye,” he said.
“Bye,” I said, watching him leave. He turned around and gave me that electric smile of his as he disappeared through the doorway. I went out into the hall, where his cousin was, and we watched him walk away with the guard. His small frame and his signature walk made
me smile as he vanished around a corner. As his cousin and I walked out, I could hear the gates opening and closing behind us in the distance. I wondered how he felt and what he was thinking. I wished he could call me and we could talk about today, but he couldn’t. As we reached the air outside the prison walls, I took a deep breath and smiled to myself.
Unbelievable.
That night, two of Tupac’s friends came to the hotel to visit with his cousin, and they ordered a pizza and just chilled for a while. They were cool, but I was tired, so I went to bed still overwhelmed by my day. I called my mother and told her how everything had gone, and she was relieved that I was doing okay. I called Tanya and checked in, but told her that I wouldn’t tell her anything until I got back home on Sunday. Needless to say, her reaction made it clear that she felt tortured.
The next day, we all went back to Clinton Correctional Facility. It was colder the second day, so I wore a black leather outfit. We sat in the visiting room until they brought Tupac in. He looked a lot higher than he had the day before, but it was all good. He gave his boys love and me a kiss, and sat down across from me.
“Your girl isn’t coming?” I said, holding my breath.
“Naw, she didn’t want to.”
“Did you sleep well?” I asked, smiling, feeling relieved that I would have him to myself again.
“Very well, thanks to you,” he smiled.
“You want anything from the vending machine?”
His eyes cascaded over my body and back up to my face. We both smiled. “Headbanger,” he crooned. “Yeah, an orange soda.”
I looked at the other guys and asked them if they wanted anything, but they were cool. I left the room.
I could hear them talking about music, the industry, business, and home as I re-entered the area. I jumped into the conversation about music, but did more listening than talking. They were trying to come up with ideas for his next album. I had never really been around the music industry, so listening to them create ideas, toss some out, and keep other ones gave me a hint of what goes on. I knew that whenever I heard the next CD, something to do with “boss players” would be in one or more songs. I was there at the conception of an idea for his CD. He was pleased with how well Me Against the World was doing and was currently writing songs for the CD he wanted to do upon his release. His boys and his cousin talked among themselves for a little while, giving Tupac and me some somewhat private time. We discussed some of the films he was going to write and talked briefly about the youth center. I filled him in on the stories I was writing. He wanted to read some of them and told me that when he got out, he would help me get a story published. I was excited. I stared at him and thought about how great a guy he was. I felt that he was just misunderstood and so beyond the times. He talked to his boys again, and his ideas seemed to flow effortlessly. Everything seemed like a no-brainer for him. He was a special case, and sitting there, I was blessed—truly blessed—to have had an opportunity to experience his aura. That’s all I could think about as I watched him speak so passionately about his business. Intelligent. Strong. Secure. Able-bodied. Masculine. Take-charge. Nonbullshitter. Sexy.
The time went by so fast. The guys walked out into the hallway as I said my good-byes to Pac.
“You’ll come back soon?” he asked.
“Yes. How do you feel now?” I asked, unsure of what I actually expected him to say.
“I feel closer to you because I have the physical to go along with the other things,” he said. “How ’bout you?”
“I’m happy that we finally met,” I said. “You are an exceptional spirit. This was good.”
“Yes, it was,” he said, leaning in to kiss me, sliding his hand from my face to my neck, and pulling me into him. The kiss was different this time. It was filled with familiarity, as if he had memorized my movements from yesterday, as if we had kissed hundreds of times. It lasted for a while. We didn’t break, and as his lips separated from mine, our faces slid past each other’s, and we hugged, lingering, and my body began to swell. As he backed away from the table that separated us, I noticed that his body had swollen, too.
The guard came to get him, and he smiled that smile again.
“I’ll call you when I think you’re back. You’re not gonna stop writing me now, are you?” he asked with a smirk.
“Of course not, and you’d better not either,” I warned. We exchanged smiles, and then he was gone.
I gathered up my purse. I could hear his boys saying good-bye as I looked over at the guard in the corner and waved good-bye to him.
Big Syke presented me with a hat before Tupac’s cousin and I got on the plane. Other than that, I don’t remember too much about the plane ride home, dropping his cousin off at Thug Mansion, or driving myself home. I was dazed by the experience. But I do remember that when I got home that night, Tanya was waiting anxiously for details.
“So, what happened? I want particulars from beginning to end,” she said, pouncing on me.
“Let me put my bag in the bedroom, and I’ll tell you everything.”
Tanya had opened two wine coolers and was waiting for me to sit. She was all smiles. “What did he look like, girl? Like his pictures?” she asked.
“No, he didn’t look like his pictures. Just in the face. His hair has grown out, and he was a lot thinner than I thought he would be. But it was still him. Everything about him was Tupac. I just kind of overlooked the ideas I’d had, the photos I’d envisioned, and I saw him.”
“Did you kiss him?” she asked, smiling from ear to ear.
“Yes, and it was sooooo good. Slow, deep, and passionate.”
I gave her the movements from beginning to end. All the looks, the environment, the conversations, and the vibe of the entire visit on both days. I explained that something had changed on the second day. I couldn’t explain it, but something had.
“So, what do you think will happen now?” Tanya asked.
“We will remain friends,” I said. “He’s going to call me. Probably tomorrow.”
“Wow.”
“I know. It’s surreal, Tan. Simply surreal.”
Chapter 20
RELEASE
Pac,
What’s up, baby? I enjoyed meeting you and wish we’d had more time together, but I guess there is plenty of time for that. I read about you and Keisha. Congratulations! You need what you need. My roommate says hello. Anyway, how do you feel now? Has anything changed? I know how we put so much on the unknown that the known just doesn’t seem as exciting. Do you feel that? I can’t tell. Call me soon. I’ll keep this one short. I’ll see you at midnight.
Forever,
Angela
Question
(Written exclusively for 2Pac from Angela)
If in the midst of the night
Our stars no longer shine bright
And the corner that lent comforts
Its purpose now somewhat trite
If you’re absent what power would be in my twenty strokes
Would looking up at the stars at midnight become a joke
Would the deficiency of our words go missed from within
For which would miss it most, your or my twin?
If I found you outside the gates would you answer with soft phrases
Would you make all your promises truths for these are the questions my mind raises
In the eye of your storm are there any thoughts of what’s to come
Or have the curiosities been appeased and this was all this was to become
I ask of you Pac to lend me a sign or a short reply
So that I no longer have to ask you questions or simply wonder why?
I had written Tupac several times after I got back, but I didn’t receive a response. Maybe it was because he was married. I remember reading an article in Jet that said he had failed a urine test on May 25. It went on to say that he had been given sixty days of constant confinement and lost his commissary privileges, which would mean that he didn’t have access to
envelopes and stamps. Did they take his letters away and he didn’t have my address anymore? Did he not write it on his arm this time? Did he not feel me anymore? Was the curiosity settled in his mind? It felt over.
I watched the papers and magazines for his progress and goings-on. He had quite a bit of drama. With all the talk about his possible attack in prison and the conversations surrounding his release and Death Row, I knew that I was the last thing on his mind. I understood. Truly, I did. He was handling his business, so I carried on with mine as the months passed.
Tupac was released in October . . .
“Hello, Ms. Lovely.” His voice was playful over the phone.
“Hello!” I smiled. “Man, I thought you had forgotten about me.”
“How could I forget about you? I’ve been caught up in bullshit for the past few months, but I’m out now,” he said happily.
“Yes, I’ve been following you through the media.” We both laughed. “I guess they’re good for something, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess. So, did I catch you at a bad time?”
“No, not at all. I just finished taking a shower and was just watching some TV.”
“Is that right?” he joked.
“That’s right,” I replied. There was a knock on the door. Tanya was gone, and I wasn’t expecting anyone. “Can you hold on for a second?”