12. Isaac
12
Isaac
A few days after my piss test, I woke up to my phone ringing and the news I knew was coming eventually.
“Mr. Jackson.”
Her voice made my heart beat faster, but for a different reason this time.
“Officer Davis.”
“First, I wanted to talk to you about the car situation.”
“It was no problem.”
“Actually…it was a problem. It was inappropriate, given our relationship.”
I sat up and grabbed my glasses off the nightstand. I slid them on, making the world a little hazy.
“How was it inappropriate?”
“It was too personal, and it was unethical. It would be like you giving me money.”
“That’s not a good analogy.”
“Yes, it is. So, as much as I appreciated it, nothing like that can ever happen again. Okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And there’s one other thing.”
Yeah, this was it.
My muscles tensed. My breathing sped up and shallowed. “What is it?”
There was a sharp intake of breath, then a slow exhale. Shorty was struggling with this.
“You failed your urine analysis,” she finally said. “Positive for THC.”
“Yeah…I’m not surprised.”
“I am.”
“Why?”
“Because we talked about this.”
I chuckled bitterly. “Once you learn the way things are, you won’t be surprised by what people do.”
Her words came faster and easier this time, but I sure as hell wished they hadn’t.
“There’s a bench warrant for your arrest. You’ll need to turn yourself in tomorrow.”
“You violated me?”
She hesitated before saying, “I did.”
I wasn’t expecting that.
My heart pounded in my chest, which was getting tighter by the second. Even though the fan was on, and my room was cool, sweat broke out on my forehead.
“How long?”
“I would guess no more than thirty days.”
She didn’t sound all chipper like she normally did. Which I appreciated. Most of these motherfuckers get a perverse pleasure from sending you back in.
But her regret didn’t make this shit any fucking easier.
“Alright, then, Officer. Thanks for the call.”
“I—“
I ended the call before I had to hear any more of her voice. Sweet like poison, that one.
I swung my feet around the side of the bed and set them on the floor. All I could do was stare straight ahead, asking myself over and over if the last five minutes was real or if I was due to wake up from a nightmare.
I’d been playing it cool with everybody, even myself, but this was the last fucking thing I wanted to happen. Staying out was the most important thing to me, and I had fucked that up.
The last time I went in, it was supposed to be the last time. I got arrested over some dumb shit, but then again, every time I’d ever gone in was behind some dumb shit. I got to fighting with this nigga named Tilo in the club and had weed on me when I got picked up. Felony assault and possession. One choice in one moment cost me five years.
And I’d just lost another thirty days to bullshit.
My anger simmered, finally boiling over when my foot darted out and kicked my nightstand, knocking it and all its contents to the floor.
I was madder at myself than I was at her. It was her job. I was a damn fool for losing sight of that. I thought I had a little time before she went hard on me. I always think I have a little more time, for everything, but then every time I look up, I’m a year older and not much wiser.
Something had to give.
But the giving would have to wait. For now, there was the preparation. The routine.
It felt like I’d done this shit a million times already.
I got myself cleaned up, then straightened up my place. Didn’t take long since I didn’t have much shit. Once that was done to my satisfaction, I grabbed up all my house plants and lined them up on my kitchen floor, giving them enough water to last through the next few days.
I went through the fridge and boxed up all the shit that would expire while I was inside. My leftover Chinese food from the night before was my dinner. I forced down as much as I could, but most of it ended up in the garbage.
I grabbed a few books off my shelf. We were allowed to bring reading material. Summerville’s jail had that going for them, at least.
I paid my rent, phone, utilities, and car insurance, then transferred what was in my checking to my savings. It wasn’t a lot, but may as well let that shit earn some interest while I was gone.
With the box of food secured in my arms, I made my way upstairs and knocked on the door of the apartment right above me. A short old man opened the door and scowled at me.
“I done told you about that smoke. It rises.”
“My bad, Unc.”
“Yeah, come on in here.”
Sheepishly, I entered the dusty apartment behind Mr. Jenkins, slowing my walk so as not to overtake his limping shuffle.
“I’ve been smoking outside,” I explained. “Just wasn’t thinking the other day. Got a lot going on.”
He collapsed onto his recliner and gave me that look he did that made me feel like I was about to get my car and phone privileges taken away.
“What?” I laughed. “You know I don’t do it on purpose.”
“What’s all that?” He gestured to the box with a shaky finger.
“I’ma be away for a while, so I figured I’d let you take what you wanted.”
His kids came by when they could, but Mr. Jenkins was mostly on his own, and not very mobile. I usually brought him groceries toward the middle of the month, making sure to get his favorite—trail mix with the salty cashews. But this was a special case.
“Where you goin’?”
I set the box on the counter and took my seat on his musty old couch. “Away.”
He shook his head. “Told you about that, too.”
“It’s some bullshit. Piss test.”
“I don’t even wanna hear about it.”
“And I didn’t come here to talk about it. I’m just dropping that off.”
“Then why’d you plop your dumb ass down on my sofa?”
“Why I gotta be dumb, Unc?”
He chuckled and picked up the remote. “Game’s on.”
No more words were said over the next hour or so. We just shared a bag of sour cream and onion chips and watched the game together.
Mr. Jenkins had lost his wife, a lady friend, and his brother all within the last ten years. He would never admit it, but he was lonely.
I knew the feeling.
Back downstairs, I got back to business. The phone calls.
The first was to the one it would hurt the most, which is why I got it out of the way early. It was like a stab in the gut to her. I knew that without her ever having said it.
“Hey, baby,” she answered.
“Hey, Mama.”
“What’s wrong?”
Might as well rip the bandaid off.
“I’m going away for a minute.”
Her loud, world-weary sigh went straight to my heart.
“How long?”
“A month at least.”
“Jesus. What happened?”
“Came up dirty on a urine test.”
“Well, that was…avoidable.”
I almost smiled at that.
My mama was always just a little too soft with me. Taurus was too damn hard, which was why I wouldn’t be calling his ass. Victor…I’d have to say Vic tended to stay the hell out of it.
“I’ll be alright.”
“I know you will.” She sighed again. “You know I love you.”
“I know.”
“Be…safe in there.”
“I always am.”
“Okay. Call me when you can.”
“Yes, ma’am. And, Mama?”
“Mm hm?”
“I’m sorry.”
She never responded to my apologies, not that I could blame her. What good is a sorry when you just turn around and do the same shit all over again? A meaningless apology is how I ended up with that brick through my window.
Mama also never came to visit me. That was at my request. I never wanted that life for her. Having to walk through metal detectors and sit at a dusty ass table across from her dusty ass son in a room full of other dusty niggas. She deserved better than that.
If only I could figure out how to be better than that.
My last call was to my favorite brother. As always.
“Vic. You by yourself?”
“Laid up with E. Why, what’s up?”
“Pissed dirty. Gotta turn myself in tomorrow.”
“What the fuck? You were doing so good.”
“It’s whatever, man.”
“Whatever?” There was rustling on the other end, then the sound of a door closing. “I done told you about that fucking weed, man.”
“You sound like T. If I wanted to talk to him, I would have called him.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I agree with him. You too old for this shit, bruh.”
I frowned at that.
This was new.
“I ain’t call you for this. I just need you to come by and water my plants for me.”
“That’s it?”
“Oh, and tell your brother I won’t be at work for a while.”
“How long this time?”
“Maybe a month.”
“Fuck.”
“You think I don’t feel bad about this shit?”
He was quiet for a minute before mumbling, “I can’t tell.”
“I’m trying to get my mind right for this shit. Dwelling on my feelings ain’t gon’ get me through the next thirty days.”
“Alright. I get it. What else you need?”
“I don’t even know, man. Positive thoughts, I guess.”
“I got you. Aye, so your girl showed you who’s boss, huh?”
“She ain’t my girl, nigga. Especially after this.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I bet.”
I’d managed to put her away for the time being, locked up tight in a mental receptacle I’d unlock when I had the capacity to deal with it. But now, thanks to my brother, she was in my head again, in the part that was trying to prepare me and keep me sane.
“Alright, then,” I said. “Thanks, Vic.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
That was that. The prep work was done. When I went to sleep tomorrow, it would be inside of a cell.
And I had nobody to blame but myself.