Fayme’s eyebrows came together and her forehead creased up as she made that “hurt so good” face. Her eyes were closed tight as she pressed the side of her face against the brick and moaned, “Oh, shiiiiit, Dontay.”
I stroked her deeper and faster. We were on my dime and somewhere too public to waste time so if she didn’t get hers at least she’d gotten paid. She threw her ass back hard meeting every thrust and my breathing turned into raspy gasps for air. I was seconds away from exploding when Fayme slipped around and down taking me deep into her throat.
She was one of many, but she was the best. Back in the day I’d probably seen a different girl every other week. The only reason I even started was because one of my homeboys had some strippers at a party when we were in high school and they paid her to break me off. I was the virgin-wallflower with no game. They thought they were doing me a favor by payin’ for me to get some ass. Eva didn’t know anything about it. No one did. I’d been taking it easy lately with Eva going to prison and everything but the need for my secret sexploits was still there.
Chapter 23
Eva Welcome to the Jungle
Aeron moved to the side and I scooted onto the bunk in front of her. I could hear the women in the cell across from us snickering. The very top and very bottom half of our doors were metal with scratched and chipped-up blue paint. The entire middle was empty space, thick bars, and your cell was as only wide as that door.
I tried my best to ignore the humiliation gnawing at me. I settled awkwardly into Aeron’s chest. Soft, warm breasts cushioned my back. The lack of hard pecs and a hard penis made my brain fire warning flares reminding me that something was missing. Every cuddle, every make-out session, every time I looked at Aeron I was reminded that my body wasn’t mine. I was stuck in a hamster wheel of wrong and, worse, every day it took place all over again. Aeron draped her arm around my waist pulling me closer.
I didn’t really keep track of the days but I knew it was Tuesday. Adams, the stocky white CO with red hair and the deep Southern accent, was usually off and Fingerbangs or Blakely did the rounds in the morning instead of overnight. Normally I’d be getting home from choir rehearsal around this time. On Wednesdays after work I’d go to the church and work with the teen Bible Study group, and on Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays I’d help with the women’s ministry. Those days seemed like a lifetime ago, when it was such a hassle to get out of my office some nights at a reasonable hour.
I’d debate about stopping and picking up something quick and easy or just ordering pizzas because I was too tired to cook. Dontay would complain but of course he’d been home all day and hadn’t bothered to fix anything let alone thaw something out. But, my chunky little baby girl would eat anything; she was never picky when it came to food. The memories alone made my eyes and my mouth water. Church was such a huge part of me that no matter how much I prayed on my own, I didn’t feel like the one-hour community sermon they held on Sundays in here was enough to get me back into God’s good graces. All the religions kind of mish-mashed into one sermon where they didn’t really say Jesus, or God; matter of fact I didn’t even think they ever said Lord. We’d pile in and the Chaplain would say, “Let us pray,” and we pretty much just read from our Bibles the entire time. People who needed someone to talk to could talk to Sister Mavis but she was Catholic or something like that.
“You know I’ll be gettin’ out of here soon, don’t you, mami?” Aeron’s voice broke into my thoughts, a warm whisper across the back of my neck. She held me in front of her squeezing me like we were longtime lovers. “You won’t have anyone to protect you when I’m gone. I really do care about you. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”
I lay listening quietly. Just like Deacon, she didn’t like to be interrupted so I was always careful to make sure she was finished before I’d speak. I’d learned that about her quickly after I’d impatiently rushed to answer her a few times. The sting of her hand would stop the words from forming right on the tip of my tongue. Now, I listened patiently and waited before I spoke.
Aeron was at the end of a five-year sentence for larceny, and I looked forward to and also secretly dreading the day that I’d no longer have to share my cell with her. Things were starting to feel like the beginning all over again, and I didn’t like it. Never had I ever wanted to end my own life more than my first month in. It felt like karma had pulled my name out of the magical shit delivery hat. Out of all the real “threatening” cellmates I could have gotten, I was stuck in Neverland with a psychotic little Filipino woman with large, wild eyes and stringy blond and black hair that fell past her butt. I thought her name was Reynoo. Well, that’s what I called her. I could never understand a word she said because her accent was so thick. The only thing I was certain of at the time was that we were going to starve to death, because the other inmates would steal every bit of food right off our trays during meals. I wasn’t stupid. I knew if I so much as slipped a note to a correctional officer about it, I’d get beaten or stabbed to death for being a snitch.
My first few nights in prison were imprinted in my mind forever like the Treasury seal on all those “ghost greenbacks” that got me here. My stomach was in knots from not eating. I huddled on my bunk, watching in horror as Reynoo took her own waste out of the toilet and smeared it in the corners of the cell walls along the floor. She was crawling along on her hands and knees, singing softly in Tagalog. They started yelling for her to shut up; others yelled because of the smell. I buried my head under my pillow to try to block out the horrifying stench. I cried and prayed myself to sleep just knowing she was doing some kind of shitty death ritual so she could kill me in my sleep. My family wouldn’t even be able to have an open-casket funeral because she’d probably eat me or something crazy.
Four days later, after having absolutely nothing to eat and no money in my commissary, I watched in absolute disgust while Reynoo gathered several huge roaches. My momma always called them things water bugs when they’d get in her house. They’d hide all day and as soon as company would come over or you’d find yourself in a comfy spot, they’d climb up the wall or perch on the ceiling just to fall and scare the living daylights out of everyone in the room. Everybody and anybody would call themselves gangsta until that water bug started flying. I’d seen the manliest of men go to climbing up on the couch, running around, screaming all girly and whatnot when there’s a rogue water bug zipping around the house. They didn’t know they could fly until you tried to kill ’em and they never flew away; they always flew right for your forehead.
Reynoo managed to catch six or so that were drawn to her “shit traps.” Hunger will make a person fast as all hell, because those things are no joke when it comes to running. She’d trap them in an old sardine can, placing the thin tin lid carefully in place and then hold it over a small candle. It’s hard to describe the smell because of all the shit everywhere, but they surprisingly didn’t smell any worse than roasting cashews. Or maybe I wanted them to smell that way. I could hear them in there scraping, clawing, and scurrying around for a few seconds, and then it would go silent.
For an entire week I lived off of that filth. I still gave thanks, I still prayed like I was supposed to. I even meditated and chanted. And then one morning, after I’d gone through the breakfast line as I usually did, I set my tray on the table and waited for the vultures to come. The line served soupy apple-cinnamon oatmeal, powdered eggs with cheese, watery grits, and a brittle dry buttered biscuit that morning. It smelled like a buffet. They even used lemon-scented soap in the kitchen because it made me think of lemonade every time I smelled it. I knew it would only be a matter of time before I completely unraveled or died from some type of disease from eating an infected roach.
On that particular morning Stanika, one of the bigger girls, was one of the first to assault my breakfast. Ripe onion and ass: I smelled her before I saw her. She was what the correctional officers called a “habitual hose down,” notorious for never taking showers. Her residual f
unk would get to the point where they’d have to throw her into a holding cell and literally spray her down with the fire hose. I initially just thought she was nasty. I didn’t find out until later she had a fear of the showers because she was assaulted and raped in there by a male correctional officer her first week in. The other COs stood by, laughing and recording it on their phones. Just so happened that a phone got stolen out of the CO’s car not too long after and was sold to the highest-paying news team. Everyone involved was fired, fined, and punished if you let the media tell it. Fingerbangs, Blakely, and the rest were still there.
Stanika was in the process of reaching for my oatmeal and I was holding my fork in a death grip. Staring down at her fat, grubby fingers, disgust registered instantly on my face at the black dirt accumulating under her nails. An image of her scratching her ass all day floated through my mind and instantly I could smell Reynoo’s shit as if it were singed into my nose hairs.
The chatter in the cafeteria clashed against my eardrums sounding like the crunch of roaches as they echoed in my ears every night. No matter how many times I brushed my teeth each day, the dirty, charred taste of them still seemed to coat my tongue permanently from the night before. I hated the antennae and the fine hairs on their legs; they always got stuck in between my teeth and it’d take me all day flossing to get all the tiny segments out.
I was exactly one half of a heartbeat away from jumping off the deep end. Stabbing that fat heffa and anyone else who wanted to step up and try something. It seemed like the only logical solution. If I’d done what I was thinking, I wouldn’t have made it out of the cafeteria alive. Thank the Lord, Aeron decided to come over when she did. She offered me her own tray and within the next hour I was out of my shithole hell of cell and moved to hers. I should have known her kindness would come with a price.
“Why so quiet tonight, princess? You don’t wanna talk to momma?”
No, I didn’t. I wanted to talk to my fiancé. I wanted to talk to my daughter, Jada. “I’m just tired, Aeron. I’ve got a lot on my mind,” I quietly responded.
Satisfied with my answer, she put her arm around my waist and I lay quietly until I could hear the steady sound of her breath going in and out, indicating that she’d fallen asleep. Tears burned slowly down my face, soaking my corner of the pillow we shared. I cried myself to sleep, quietly asking God how I’d ended up in the hell I was in and wondering what I’d done to deserve it.
Hours later I was awakened by clanking and loud yelling. Out of habit I glanced back at the small slat of a window in our cell. It was cloudy, scratched plastic so thick the sky always looked dull white and the sun would look like an orange gumdrop someone mashed onto the other side.
“How many times have I told y’all bitches to keep it separated?” Officer Blakely was standing by the cell door.
“I’m sorry, Officer,” I apologized, sitting up, quickly pulling the course blanket up to my chin. I clumsily bumped Aeron in the process and I already knew she was probably glaring up at me for interrupting her sleep. None of this was my fault and yet everyone was taking it out on me. I felt like a weak sapling bowed down under a ton of snow in winter with all of its leaves dying for sun and the roots desperate for warm soil. All of this pressure . . .
“It won’t happen again. I got cold and Aeron suggested I sleep in her bunk to stay warm.”
“I don’t give a fuck. You could tell me it felt like a northern wind was blowin’ up a polar bear’s ass up in there and I’d still tell ya keep ya ass in ya own fuckin’ bed. One more of these and ya ass is in solitary.” She turned and marched off.
“All that damn noise for nothing. Waking people up and shit. She need some dick or something up in her life. She’d be a lot nicer if she got her a good piece of ass at least twice a week. Who I gotta roofie or pay to dick her down?” Aeron threw a quick middle finger in the direction Officer Blakely had just stormed off.
Climbing over me off the bunk, she stood facing the scratched metal that served as our mirror and started braiding her long, thick hair. She always wore two long braids that fell down either side of her head; they reminded me of Pocahontas. Man, my head was a hot mess. I self-consciously patted an itch in my own fuzzy cornrows. One of Aeron’s homegirls from a different unit braided my hair up every Wednesday or Thursday and all it was doing was making my mess grow thicker and faster.
“Aeron, I need to call my baby sister. Can you get me a phone call please?”
I felt like I’d switched places with Jada when she’d bug me for cookies before dinner. My tone begging and my eyes pleading. I had no choice but to be reduced to this level and, ashamed, I could only lower my head and wait for her answer. I clenched my teeth, telling the stupid tears that I could already feel starting to burn with every blink to go away.
I needed to find out where they had Dontay locked up at. I needed to talk to him. There were so many unanswered questions, like why he did what he did and why hadn’t he told me. What was I supposed to do; what were we supposed to do? Was he in some kind of trouble? He used to gamble; maybe he’d gotten in over his head and was trying to pay off a debt. There had to be a reasonable answer. I couldn’t accept the fact that he’d just throw me under the bus and think he could get away with it. On top of that I had no idea what I should consider saying when I sat before the judge. My trial wasn’t scheduled for another four months and it killed me not knowing when his trial was, or if he had copped a plea, had already been sentenced, or what.
“I got you, mami. Now, give me a kiss and let’s go eat breakfast.”
I got up and gave her a small, emotionless peck on the cheek. My lips and hands had gone cold from nervous excitement. I was anxious to finally speak to a familiar voice again.
Chapter 24
Eva War of Juarez
I dialed my little sister’s cell phone number and my heart skipped a beat as it rang. Other than the first time I’d spoken to her, it normally went straight to voicemail, so I was both shocked and excited. I’d heard through the grapevine that Sue put up such a fuss about Deacon wanting a third wife she threatened to kill him. She must have been putting some wonder-head on him because he never touched Leslie. But I still felt a small tug of regret every time I thought of the way I left her all alone.
“Leslie speaking. Who’s this?”
“It’s me, sweetie, hey.” The sound of her voice brought tears to my eyes.
“Oh damn. Hey, Eva. I miss you so much. Are you okay?”
“I need to know where Tay is being held. Have you found out where they put Jada? I feel so cut off from the world in here. This court-appointed lawyer isn’t helping me worth a damn, and they seized all my accounts so I don’t have any way to pay for a better one.”
Leslie giggled on the other end and spoke to someone in a hushed tone. “Boy, stop. I’m on the phone with my sister.” She sounded so happy and completely distracted as she turned her attention back to me. “Look, I haven’t found out exactly where Tay is, but I heard he might be in the Clinton jail. You know Momma and Deacon ain’t want nothing to do with Jada. CPS took her, Eva. I’m sorry.”
My heart slammed to a halt in my chest. My baby was with child protective services? My parents weren’t shit. They were so Christian and so concerned about their reputation in the eyes of the community. When I was pregnant I’d asked for a few things for the baby and they blatantly ignored me. I’d never gotten any help from them back then and I damn sure couldn’t figure out why I was expecting it now. God might have loved me in spite of all my sins, but I sure couldn’t say the same for my own flesh and blood.
“Leslie, is there any way you can try to get custody of her? You are her aunt.” My voice strained as I tried to speak through my tears. “I don’t want my baby being raised by strangers. She doesn’t deserve it. I don’t even deserve to be here.”
“Sis, I tried. But I’m only eighteen. They won’t give me custody. I’ll think of something, I promise. I gotta go. Class starts in a few minutes. I signed up
for summer sessions so I can get ahead a little in this college game. Call me when you can and I’ll fill you in on anything else I find out.”
“Okay, I love you.” Inside my heart was breaking into a million pieces. I felt hopeless as the call disconnected.
“What up, bitch?” a voice called out from behind me.
I cracked a half smile as Sayzano strolled over to me. She, I mean he, was one of the few people I felt safe talking to. All of the gay and transgendered inmates were housed together in a protective unit, but they were allowed to eat and come out onto the yard with the female unit.
“Hi, Say. I just found out my baby’s with child protective services and there’s nothing I can do about it.” My voice cracked.
Sayzano grabbed me up into a hug and for a second I forgot all about my problems as I was faced with the bigger problem of suffocating between his huge fake breasts.
“Don’t you cry, baby girl. I know a couple niggas on the outside. You give me a few days and we’ll work shit out. Okay?”
I nodded and Say held my face in between his large hands and looked me in the eyes.
“Look, we gonna go take out these cornrows and braid you up some fresh ones ’cause, bitch, you lookin’ like a hot mess, and Say ain’t friends with no hot messes. All Say’s bitches is thoroughbred, first class, top shelf, neck breakers. Shit, we make haters hate themself. So bring ya ass.” Say let my face go and threw his hands in the air dramatically before laughing.
“You need to holla at my girl Bootie and get yourself something to make you feel better. I got mad credit with her. I know you ain’t feeling your whole wifey thing; go get you some ding dongs on me.”
I laughed for the first time in a long time and followed Say. “Thank you Say, you are way too sweet to be up in here.”
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