2. Love you, Baby Girl #3
We stopped near a bench outside the student center. Jazlyn sat first. I stayed standing a second longer out of habit before forcing myself to sit, too. Prison ruined sitting with your back exposed. Even now, I positioned myself automatically so I could see the courtyard.
Jazlyn noticed my body placement.
“You really still live like that?” she asked softly.
“Like what?”
“Like something bad is about to happen.”
I looked ahead quietly. “You spend enough years somewhere violent, your body stops asking permission before reacting.”
“Do you hate God?”
The question startled me enough to look at her fully.
She rushed to explain. “I mean, do you blame God for what happened?”
I leaned back against the bench slowly.
The truth sat ugly on my tongue.
“At one point, I blamed everyone. I blamed the company I kept, God, I blamed my parents for not being rich and not moving out of Crestwood until I got caught up. I blamed your grandpa’s church.
Hell, I blamed myself. But now I blame the system that throws the book at young men who look like me with hardly any evidence. ”
Her eyes widened slightly. “I knew it,” she whispered. “Everybody keeps acting like exoneration fixes everything.” Her voice sharpened emotionally now. “Like you walk out and suddenly life starts over.”
For the first time since sitting down, I stopped seeing the little girl I lost. And saw the woman she became without me. She was smart and observant.
“I don’t know where to put myself sometimes,” I admitted before I could stop myself.
“I wake up before sunrise because my body thinks it’s time to count.” I rubbed my palms together slowly. “I still fold my clothes the same way. Still eat too fast. Still check corners when walking into rooms. Still can’t sleep if it’s too quiet.”
She looked heartbroken hearing it.
I hated that immediately. “You don’t gotta look at me like that,” I muttered. “Don’t feel bad for your old man. I will adjust.” I looked away toward the fountain while the cold wind moved through the trees.
Jazlyn leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.
“Take your time, Dad. Adjusting takes time, but at least you’re here now.”
“My professors talk all the time about systems and institutional violence and how incarceration changes communities. I used to sit in class feeling torn. I took up this major so I could understand you better, but I hated that even educational institutions made my dad a theory and hardly see men like you as a real person.”
“What do you want to do with your degree?”
“I’m Pre-law like Aunt Chanel.”
“Why?”
She looked at me like the answer should’ve been obvious.
“Because of you.”
That nearly wrecked me. Two women in my life who dedicated their minds and intelligence to studying me, to help ensure the next generation of men in our family didn’t end up like me.
Twenty-four years have gone by. I couldn’t get that time back, but I was still given something good. My Jazzy still wanted to know me.
“You graduate soon, what are your plans after graduation?” I asked.
“I had taken two years to travel after high school, so I started undergrad late. I want to go right into law school, but we’ll see because law school is expensive.”
“Price doesn’t matter, Jazzy. Do what you want, I got it.”
Kai had stashed my money all of these years and invested it legally.
He had made most of the investments in Jazlyn, Kenya, Chanel, Jacqueline, and Camilla’s names.
The women in my life were rich and had no clue.
That doesn’t even include the settlement from the state.
My Baby Bear, Channy, had a friend of hers from law school negotiating a huge settlement for wrongful conviction.
“Whatever you want or need in this lifetime, Jazzy, I will move heaven and high water to get it for you. I know you didn’t get an opportunity to be daddy’s little girl at the age where most young girls yearn for it, but I owe you twenty-four birthdays and daily affection.”
“Well, Dad. I have class in a few minutes. But you can start with lunch on Wednesdays. That’s my most free day.”
I smiled before I could stop myself. “You’re just like me. You could have whatever you want, and you ask for food first.”
Jazlyn stared at me, smiling now.
Her phone alarm rang with the heading: Class.
She groaned dramatically while standing.
“I gotta go.”
I stood, too. Then Jazlyn stepped forward first and wrapped her arms around me tightly. At the embrace of my daughter, I almost forgot how to breathe.
I closed my eyes briefly.
“I love you, Baby Girl,” I said roughly against the top of her head.
Jazlyn squeezed me tighter. “I love you too, Dad.”
The word cracked something open inside me. I had spent decades trying to cement shut. When she pulled away, both of us looked wrecked emotionally.
“I’ll text you,” she said quickly.
“I still hate texting.”
“You’d better learn, Dad, it’s 2026. No one prefers being on the phone.”
I smirked slightly.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She grinned one last time before jogging toward the political science building.
I stood there watching until she disappeared inside.
I finally grabbed my phone and found Camilla’s name. My daughter had given me back one piece of myself. Now, I had to face the woman who still held the rest.