CHAPTER THREE
Traylin “Trigg” Bowers
The stench of federal prison hit different.
It wasn’t like the county where the smell was piss and desperation.
The feds kept shit clean on the surface, with bleach and industrial cleaner masking the underlying smell of broken dreams and stolen time.
I followed the CO down the sterile hallway, my Jordans squeaking against the polished floor as I headed to the visitation room, I had Nova bundled up against my chest in her carrier.
She was sleeping, thank God. Last thing I needed was her waking up screaming to the top of her lungs. She was six months old and already making her third visit to see her mom’s behind bars. I swear this shit wasn't right.
Seeing Tasha locked up still fucked with my head every time. My baby sister wasn't built for life behind bars. This shouldn’t have been her story, but I guess it was.
The CO, a thick white woman with her hair pulled back so tight it looked painful, stopped at the heavy metal door.
"Standard rules, No passing items to the inmate. Keep the baby under control. And any disturbances will get your visit gets cut short."
I nodded, keeping my face neutral despite wanting to tell this bitch to eat a dick. These mufuckas always acted like I ain't been here hundred times before. Like I ain't know the fucking routine.
"Understood," was all I said. In these situations, less words meant less problems.
The visitation room was half-full, and it was mostly families.
Children fidgeting in plastic chairs while mothers in khaki uniforms tried to parent through a table.
The tables and chairs were bolted to the floor.
There were cameras in every corner. I scanned the room out of habit, noting exits and guard positions.
Being aware, that shit has been ingrained in me from years in the streets.
Tasha sat at a table in the back corner, wearing that ugly ass khaki uniform that washed out her bronze skin.
Her normally wild jet black curls were pulled back into a pony tail, making her face look thinner than it already was.
Twenty-three years old but looking thirty in this light.
These eight months in the feds had aged her.
When she spotted me and Nova, her whole face lit up for a brief second before crumbling. By the time I reached her, tears were already streaming down her face.
"What’s up, baby girl," I said, giving her the only hug they allowed. It was quick, supervised, and non-lingering. She felt fragile in my arms, like she might break if I squeezed too hard.
"Trigg," she whispered, her voice cracking. "You brought her."
I sat across from her, carefully maneuvering Nova's carrier to the table between us. "Of course. You know I’m gon always bring her to see you."
Tasha's eyes never left her daughter's sleeping face. She reached out hesitantly, looking up at the nearest CO for permission. The guard gave a curt nod, and Tasha gently touched Nova's tiny hand with one finger.
"She's so big now," she whispered, voice thick with emotion.
"Look at her chunky cheeks."
"Her lil’ ass getting chunkier every day," I said, smiling despite the heaviness in my chest.
Tasha couldn't tear her eyes away from Nova. "Her hair is coming in more. It looks like it's gonna be curly like mine."
"Yeah, and she got your feisty ass attitude too. Her lil’ ass fusses if she don't get fed exactly when she want it."
That got a small laugh from Tasha, Nova stirred at the noise, her tiny face scrunching up before relaxing again.
"Has she been sleeping through the night yet?" Tasha asked, still gently stroking Nova’s tiny fingers.
"Most nights. When she don't, it’s because she’s teething or some shit.
Shaunie, Zurie, and Kynessa helps me with her.
Between all of us, we making it work." I adjusted the pink blanket around Nova.
"Kynessa bought her like twenty new outfits last week.
She said her niece gotta be the flyest baby in Chicago. "
Tasha's smile faded, reality crashing back down. "Damn, I'm gon’ miss everything, Trigg. Her first laugh, her first words, first steps... all of it. I'm fucking up her life before it even start."
"Nah, don't talk like that," I said firmly. "You ain't fucking up shit. the system fucked you. That's different." She shook her head, wiping away fresh tears. "I knew better. Ma been running shit through the DR for years without getting caught. The second I do the shit, I get bumped."
“Aye chill,” I stopped her from talking. This wasn’t the time nor the place.
"Twelve years, Trigg," she continued, ignoring what the fuck I just said. "Twelve fucking years minimum before I can even hold my baby outside these walls. She gonna be damn near a teenager, she not gon’ even know who the fuck I am."
I reached across the table, taking her hand despite the rules. The CO took a step forward, but I ignored her. Some shit was more important than their bullshit regulations.
"Listen to me," I said, squeezing her hand tight. "Nova gon’ know exactly who her mama is. When we ain’t visiting, I'm gon’ show her your picture every day. I’m gon’ talk to her about you every day. And them twelve years, we gon work on that."
Her eyes lifted to mine, "Whatchu’ mean, work on it'?"
"Sosa got a new lawyer looking at your case. We just paid him to review the evidence. He gave us some hope, he said there might be something with how they searched your luggage. Probable cause issue or some shit."
"Are you serious?" Her voice was barely audible.
"On everything I love," I assured her. "This shit ain't over, sis. Not by a long shot."
She nodded slowly, processing this new information. Then her expression hardened. "Mama been having people send letters to me."
The abrupt change of subject threw me for a second. "Straight up? What she want?"
"Acting like she give a fuck now. Talking about she wanna help with Nova.
Talking about she can get me a better lawyer through some nigga she fucking with in Santo Domingo.
" Tasha's voice dripped with bitterness.
"Where was all that energy when I told her I was pregnant and I begged her not to make me carry that package? "
I stayed quiet, letting her vent. Our mother was a complicated subject. Always had been.
"I ripped them fucking letters up, I don't fuck with her. She’s dead to me." her eyes blazed with fury. "She’s the reason I'm in here. The reason my daughter gotta grow up without her mother."
“She probably does care Tash.”
"Fuck her. She don't deserve to know shit about my baby." Tasha leaned forward, careful not to disturb Nova who was starting to stir. "You bet not let her send nothing to Nova, please keep my baby away from her."
"She in DR, sis. It ain't like she can just pop up. But nah, I ain't telling her shit about Nova. That's your call, not mine." I said and that seemed to satisfy her.
Nova chose that moment to wake up, her dark eyes blinking open.
For a second, she looked confused, then she focused on Tasha's face. There was a moment of recognition, and then Nova's face broke into a toothless smile. Tasha gasped, tears instantly welling up.
"Can I..." Tasha looked up at the CO, who had been watching our interaction. "Please, can I hold her? Just for a minute?"
The CO hesitated, then gave a short nod. "Five minutes. That's it."
I carefully lifted Nova from her carrier and placed her in Tasha's arms. The moment my sister held her daughter, something in her face transformed, the hardness of prison life momentarily erased, and was replaced by love.
"Hey, Mommy’s girl," she whispered, her voice breaking.
Nova gurgled happily, reaching up to grab at Tasha's face. Tasha kissed her tiny fingers, her tears falling onto Nova's onesie.
"Look how big you're getting," she continued, rocking slightly. "Mama loves you so much. So, so much. Don't you ever forget that, okay? No matter how long I'm gone, Mama loves you more than anything in this world."
I watched them, the knot in my throat growing tighter.
This shit wasn't right. A mother and her baby separated by concrete walls.
Nova should be at home with Tasha, not being raised by her uncle and family friends, no matter how much we loved her.
"How's Shaunie doing?" Tasha asked, not taking her eyes off Nova.
"She still cooking them Sunday dinners?" I couldn't help but smile. "You know it. Still making enough food to feed the whole block. Still fussing at everybody about taking our shoes off in her house."
"Remember them days when Mama and Shaunie was running shit together?" Tasha asked, her voice softer now. "Back before Daddy took over everything?"
I nodded as memories came flooding back.
Shaunie wasn't just some good Samaritan who took us in, she was deep in the streets back then.
Her and our mother had come up together, running coke through the South Side in the late '90s before our father expanded into heroin and took over the whole operation.
"Yeah, they asses was like the queens of 79th Street," I said and Tasha smiled.
"Ma always said Shaunie was the brains and she was the muscle.”
"That's 'cause Shaunie was good at the business side.”
"At least she got out before it was too late," Tasha said, gently bouncing Nova who was starting to fuss. “I wish Ma would’ve did the same, I mean she could’ve bought some property, open some real businesses. But she was too hooked on that fast money."
"That’s cause Pop’s was in her ear" I added. "She listened to every word that nigga said.”