Although not taking part in those events caused tears to well in her eyes, Monica was saddened the most by being taken away from her siblings. The only thing that gave her comfort was she knew they would be in good hands. Well, at least Kayla would. Monica prayed that Dennis would change his mind after a few days of Jenette and all her mess. Mr. and Mrs. Cooper could provide all the things that Kayla and he both deserved to have.
The road the criminal-minded group of women were traveling on was filled with potholes, and the small bus seemed to purposely hit each one. Every bump caused the handcuffs on Monica’s tiny wrists to tighten, cutting off her circulation. They were both starting to feel numb and turn purple. She wasn’t in any real rush to get caged up behind bars like an animal, but she wanted to arrive at the prison soon so that her hands could freely move around.
As the bus finally crossed into the confinement of the walls of the prison, Monica braced herself for the unknown. When all the female inmates entered the facility, they were asked to strip down naked, and they were hosed off like cattle at a market. They were then searched and assigned a number. Each woman was given two dingy washcloths, a towel, a blanket, and two sets of mismatched sheets. All the items were old and worn, and they had a stale smell. Monica slightly rubbed the washcloth and quickly frowned at the abrasive texture as she was led down the long, twisted concrete corridor.
Monica reflected on the days when she was younger and Jenette had them sleeping on the floor with one blanket to share. Those times were in the past for her or so she thought. After all the “borrowing” Monica had done, she had become accustomed to a fluffy mattress, a thick triple-layer goose comforter, and silk linens, but she was a trooper. It was time for her to man up, so to speak. Monica was determined not to let a place like jail fuck with her mind or her spirit. This wasn’t somewhere she wanted to get used to. It was just a bump in the road.
The female officer opened the cell and proceeded to slam it shut loudly as soon as Monica crossed inside its closed-in, damp walls. Reality was quickly starting to set in. She was really locked the fuck up. Not on a punishment for the weekend, like no watching television or not being able to go out to play, but in prison for fourteen months.
“I can do this time standing on my head, with my eyes closed. The man can’t hold my black ass down,” Monica said out loud as she finally reached her bunk and plopped down, trying to convince herself of her own words.
“Oh, is that right, Miss Lady?” The woman on the upper bunk startled Monica when she spoke. “You think it’s just that easy, do you? You think you’ve got all the answers and this joint figured out? Well, I’ll be damned.” The voice grew stronger with each word.
Monica jumped up and swiftly went on the other side of the small cell to get a better look at the person talking. “Dang, G, I ain’t see your ass.” Monica paused when the woman on the bunk sat all the way up, and she noticed that she was an older woman. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cuss. I just didn’t know anyone else was in here.”
“I understand, dear, but take it from me, while you’re locked up in this cage, try to pay attention and always beware of these other females. I don’t care how tough you think you are. These bitches in here can be just as treacherous as any man, if not more. But then again, I don’t have to tell you that, do I?”
The older woman was being sarcastic as she slowly got off her bunk and was now standing face-to-face with Monica. They were just about the same height and weight. Most of their features were similar, having the same eye color and complexion. The only major difference was the forty or so years of age separating the two.
“How old are you? You look like a baby.” The woman tilted her head sideways as she awaited the answer to her question.
“I’m eighteen, ma’am.”
“Eighteen, are you sure? You don’t look old enough to spit at a barn fire.”
Monica started smiling at the lady’s comparison and her Down South, country accent. “Yes, I’m sure I’m eighteen, unfortunately for me! The judge reminded me right before he sentenced me to come here.”
Both women started to laugh because they knew that Monica, being of legal age, guaranteed her a spot in the penitentiary instead of juvenile hall lockup.
“Well, all I can tell you is now ya rolling with the big dogs. A pretty young girl like you is gonna get tested, believe me.” The old woman grinned as if she knew some sort of ancient Chinese secret.
“I ain’t the one.” Monica sucked her teeth and twisted her lips to the side. “Nan bitch in dis motherfucker betta not try me. That’s my word.” Monica started pacing back and forth around the tiny cell that she would now call home. Angry as hell, Monica threw respecting her elders out the window as she cursed.
“Okat, Miss Betta Not Try Me. Calm your little ass down. I don’t even know ya name.”
“It’s Monica. Monica Howard.”
“All right then, Monica. My name is Sandra.”
The older of the two sat down on the lower bunk and schooled Monica on everything from the guards and the inmates to the food and the phone. After close to three hours of Sandra holding court, putting Monica up on game, the cell gates were cracked for lunch and yard time.
“Remember what I told you, Monica. Don’t ask for or look for any kinda trouble, but don’t back down and show any signs of weakness. This ain’t the playground at school. This is ya life.”
“I got this, Sandra. I ain’t gonna hesitate not once on none of these bitches! I’m gonna go hard.”
Even though Monica was completely overwhelmed by her present circumstances, she held herself down. The inmates poured into the hallway. Mothers, sisters, daughters, cousins, nieces, and even great-grandmas, all fell in line. Both Monica and Sandra did the same, making their way into the chow hall, where they got in line without incident. But like they always say, “I knew it was too good to be true,” well, it was. Another inmate brushed past Monica extremely close and made sure that her breast touched Monica’s shoulder. Sandra was right. It didn’t take long for someone to test Monica. Now she had to react and set the tone.
“Damn, what’s your fuckin’ problem? Are you crazy or something?” Monica was pissed off as she yelled at the girl.
“Oh, sorry, my bad.” The girl tried to play it off and act as if she had made a mistake.
“Listen, you big bitch. I ain’t gonna tell you but once that I ain’t the one to be fucked with. If you even daydreaming about some dumb shit with me, you better check ya’self.” Monica was hyped as hell. She was holding her tray sideways and made sure that the girl fully understood that she wasn’t in the mood for no foolishness or games. She would split her shit to the white meat.
“Look, I said that it was my fault. Why you tripping?” The girl was towering over Monica and pointing in her face.
The two were about to come to blows. Sandra jumped in between them in hopes of defusing tension and stopping any more physical contact. She wanted to make her presence felt.
“Come on, you two. There’s no need for all this arguing and carrying on.” Sandra had a huge smile on her face. “Monica, calm down. This chick already said that she was sorry, and I think she knows that she will be even sorrier if she ever, ever makes that same fucked-up mistake again. Am I right?” Sandra gave the girl a treacherous look, and the girl turned around quickly, deciding to be on her way before Sandra really got pissed. “Well, I guess we told her, didn’t we?” Sandra smiled.
After giving a slight nod in agreement, Monica got her food, and they found a seat. Monica and Sandra ate their lunch and walked around the yard talking the entire time. It was if they had known one another their entire lives. Sandra had a daughter who was Monica’s age, but she was taken by the state over five years ago. Sandra was constantly in and out of jail, and she was deemed unfit, losing her parental rights. This time, she was doing a four-year bid for shoplifting. It was one more thing that she and Monica had in common.
By the time the bell started ringing, Sandra
had found out Monica’s entire horrible life history. She was determined to put her new cellmate up on game. As soon as they got back inside their tiny concrete home away from home, the lessons began.
Chapter Seven
Week after week passed, and Monica and Sandra grew closer by the minute. Sandra was like the mother Monica never had. Everything a person needed to know to walk inside a store buck-ass naked and come out suited and booted without even being noticed was instilled into Monica’s brain. Sandra was giving her some true knowledge that the average petty shoplifter dreamed of acquiring.
“Listen, Monica, I know all that snatch-and-run, smash-and-grab bullshit makes you think that you did something big, but it ain’t shit. Fuck all that drawing attention to yourself. It only makes them stores be on the lookout for you.” Sandra was in the middle of one of her famous speeches of the day. “That type of wild bullshit don’t do nothing but make ya li’l ass hot.”
Monica was trying her best to pay attention. She was tired and was being tormented by a headache that had been pounding all day long. “I know, Sandra. When I go home, I’m gonna run my shit a lot differently. I got a plan for they ass.” She tilted her head back and rubbed both sides gently, trying to change the subject. “Something ain’t right. My head won’t stop hurting.”
“Girl, it’s probably from all that worrying. You have to learn to pace yourself on calling home.”
“Yeah, I guess you right. It’s just that I have been trying to call my friend Kanina and the answering machine keeps picking up. She always accepts my calls.” Monica sighed as she sat up on her bunk.
“Stop jumping to conclusions. People on the outside have a life to live. You might have stolen for them, given to them, and looked out for them and they mama, but all bullshit aside, your ass is in jail, not theirs. Your young behind has gots to walk this time down on your own. They can’t do your time for you, so stop pressing your bid and mine!” Sandra was finally succeeding in calming Monica down when Miss Sims, the night guard on duty, slowly approached the cell gates.
“Howard, come with me.”
“What’s wrong, Miss Sims? Did she do something?” Sandra questioned.
“Stay out of this. It doesn’t concern you.” Miss Sims rolled her eyes. “Now come on, Howard, you have a visit.”
“A visit?” Monica was confused. It was four hours past visiting time. “Who is it? It’s not even my day for a visit.”
“Just hurry up.” Miss Sims opened up the cell gate and let Monica slip out into the corridor.
“Sandra, I’m scared. I don’t know what this is about.” Monica was hesitant to move her feet any farther. She looked at Sandra for help.
“Whatever it is, don’t worry. I’ll be here waiting for you.” Sandra was determined to help Monica feel as safe as possible. She had seen this type of circumstance occur repeatedly over the years she was locked up. When an inmate was called out this late on a visit, it could only mean one thing.
Sandra held her head down in her hands as she waited for her cellmate to return. Damn, it’s gonna be one long-ass night! She felt chills rush throughout her entire body. Sandra leaned back on the bunk and listened to the sounds of the prison. She imagined who had died in Monica’s family. After all the horror stories Monica had told Sandra, Jenette was the first and only one to come to mind.
Miss Sims put her key into the huge steel door and turned the handle down toward the floor. “Howard, visiting room one,” Miss Sims bellowed. During all the months that Monica had spent locked up, Miss Sims never really seemed to make eye contact with her, let alone show any sort of kindness, but today was different.
“All right, Howard, remember that God never gives you more than you can stand.”
Monica looked into Miss Sims’s eyes as she pushed the heavy door open and revealed Kanina’s mother and the prison chaplain on the other side. They were seated at a table in the far corner of the room near the window. Monica’s face started to stiffen up, and her already-pounding headache intensified. She turned around and glanced back at Miss Sims one last time before she made her way across to her visitors. She was glad that at least she’d had her hair braided earlier that morning. She made sure to get it tightened up every few days. Monica didn’t want Kanina’s mother to see her looking like a wild child.
“Hello, Monica.” The chaplain was the first to speak as he stood up and patted her on the shoulder.
“Hello, Chaplain Davis,” she replied, looking over at her best friend’s mother.
Before Monica could get a chance to sit down, she saw Mrs. Cooper lower her head and start to cry. Monica immediately started sobbing and pleading with them to tell her what was wrong.
“Oh my God, what’s wrong? Is it my mother?” she cried out. “I knew if I wasn’t there, something bad was gonna happen to her. I knew it, I knew it.” Monica’s screaming was uncontrollable.
“Calm down, Monica. Jenette is fine, I guess. No one has seen her in days.” Mrs. Cooper wiped her eyes while handing Monica a tissue to do the same. The tension in the room was still intense as Monica’s total, undivided attention was focused on the two people across from her at the table.
“Can one of you please tell me?” Her heart was racing.
“Listen, dear, the doctors did everything they could, but it was too late. The injuries were far too severe and so much blood was lost. Kanina wanted to answer the phone and tell you everything, but I wouldn’t let her. I thought it would be better to break the news to you in person,” Mrs. Cooper sobbed.
“What news? What the hell are you talking about? What do you mean so much blood? What doctors?” Monica leaped out of her seat and practically knocked the table over.
Miss Sims watched from the security booth as the loud, somber exchange of words took place.
“It was Dennis. He was shot and injured badly in some sort of street altercation yesterday evening. He died on the operating table. I’m so sorry.”
“Dennis? Oh my God.” Monica’s eyes grew wide, and her heart slowly broke as she took in all the details of her younger brother’s death. After hearing that he was shot in the head as well as his back, Monica let the tears flow. She hated that Dennis was dead and she couldn’t be there to protect him. That had always been her job. Guilt took control of her body as she wept.
Kanina’s mother assured her that Kayla was doing as fine as could be expected considering all the horrible events that had taken place over the past months of the year. She then hugged Monica for close to ten minutes. Monica asked Chaplain Davis if she would be allowed to attend her brother’s funeral service.
“Yes, it should not be any problem at all. I have to check your file, but if my memory serves me correct, you aren’t a high-risk prisoner. I will inform your family of the cost of you attending.”
Monica put a frown on her face. “How much do you think it will be?” Her eyes were swollen and puffy from all the tears. “I don’t have but twenty dollars in my account.”
“Don’t worry about the money, Monica. My husband and I will cover it.”
Monica managed a slight, half-hearted smile. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would ever do without you. Kanina is so lucky to have a mother like you.”
Before the tear-filled visit came to a close, Monica learned that Kanina’s mom would try to find Jenette to finalize the services. She was, after all, dopefiend or not, Dennis’s next of kin and had to sign off on the body and give the mortician some vital information. Monica knew that the state of Michigan would step in and pay a portion of the cost to bury her little brother, but Jenette would have to fill out the proper documents.
Miss Sims marched Monica down the long, twisted hallway back toward the row of cells that housed the women. Suddenly all the awful, foul odors that engulfed the air no longer mattered. All the late-night noises that ruled the environment were silent to Monica’s ears. She was in somewhat of a trance as she reentered her cell and fell on her bunk. Sandra cringed with pity as she witnessed her young friend
ball up into an instant state of depression.
“Monica, you have to listen to me. I know it appears as if your entire world is being ripped apart at the seams, but it’s gonna pass. You just need time. We both know that I don’t read the Bible on a daily basis or go to the services they hold here, but I do know one thing. God will never give you more than you can stand.”
It was the same thing that Miss Sims had just told her. Sandra, true enough, wasn’t an overly religious woman, but she cared about Monica’s well-being and fully understood that at a time like this there was only one place or person one could turn to: the Lord.
* * *
After waiting three days for an update, Monica put in a request to see the chaplain. She still hadn’t received any word about the day or time when her little brother’s funeral would be held. She wanted at least to have her hair braided and be prepared. While she awaited his response, she called Kanina.
“You have a collect call from an inmate at a state prison. To accept the charges, press one. To decline, just hang up to disconnect.” The automated operator clicked on no sooner than Kanina had gotten the phone up to her ear. She immediately, without hesitation, pressed the number one button on the keypad. After a few brief clicks, she heard Monica’s voice.
“Hello. Hello.”
“Hey, girl, I’m here,” Kanina belted out.
Monica heard her best friend’s soft-spoken voice, and she started to cry. “Kanina, damn I miss ya ass so much. I am so fucking lonely in this place.”
“Don’t worry, girl. It’ll be over soon. You almost at the end of your bid. Remember you got an out date. I mean it ain’t like you killed somebody.”
“I know, but being away from home is so messed up, especially now.” Monica sighed.
“I feel you. You know, Kayla really misses the shit out ya ass too.” Kanina was trying her best to keep her girl’s spirits up. “She’ll be back shortly. My mother took her shopping to get a dress to wear to the service.”
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