Chapter 19
NINETEEN
22 months later…
The Way of a Superior Man’s pages glided across my finger every minute or two as I finished another. I’d read the book three times over the course of my stay, and each time, I got a new understanding, a better understanding than I had the reading prior. It was one of the few nonfiction books that held my attention and helped me pass the time each day.
The one that had the most wear and tear didn’t tell a story or have a narrative at all. It was full of definitions, synonyms, and parts of speech. My dictionary had seen better days. I’d read it from cover to cover six times and was trying to pace myself before completing it a seventh time.
While niggas preferred recreational time, I spent my time with my head in the books, reconnecting with my roots and doing the dreadful mental work I’d been avoiding since a teenager. My days weren’t spent in the day room, watching television for hours on end. They were spent identifying my greatest flaws and fears while figuring out how to navigate life without them being hindrances.
The loud chatter came to a screeching halt when the sirens sounded throughout the unit. Footsteps scattered as everyone migrated to their cells. As the doors began to close, I rolled from the bottom bunk. I stuck my head out of the door as it continued to close the gap it shared with the wall.
“What’s going on, OG?”
Freddy was one of the oldest men in our unit. He’d been down for thirty-two years and wouldn’t be released in society without embalming fluid and missing organs. He retaliated, avenging his son’s death by killing the sons of the officer who’d shot his boy. There were three of them, from the ages of seventeen to twenty-four. His son was seven when he was gunned down during a water gunfight with his friends.
“Something in the next unit, but they’re shutting us all down. Most likely, somebody died from their injuries.”
“Nah, but almost. A nigga found out one of them niggas fucking his little piece and damn near got his top popped trying to confront the nigga,” Mookie explained.
“In here?” OG asked.
“Yeah. They jumped his stupid ass together,” Mookie tittered. “Let me slide my Black ass in before they start tripping on a nigga.”
Freddy let him slide by, still inquiring about what had gone down. I, on the other hand, had no interest. What niggas did in their spare time and when no one was looking behind the walls was none of my business. I laid back on my bunk and resumed reading until my eyes grew tired and my heart grew weary.
Turning my head slightly, I peered at the only image that hung from the wall beside me. Glacier’s smiling face had gotten me through the darkest of days. Her spirit lingered. Her love clung to me like skin. Her face, I saw it each time I closed my eyes.
Mommas .
Turning my head in the opposite direction, I landed on the small box of letters that gained a new tenant each month. Like clockwork, Glacier sent a new letter. I’d yet to read one. I wasn’t in the right head space to do so.
She weakened me. She was a drug. My drug. And once I got a hit of her, I knew how much I’d desire more. She’d easily become the focal point of my world. She was for an entire six months. But the night I was fully processed into the system was the night I eliminated that distraction.
I wasn’t sure if it had made shit any better or worsened me altogether, but I wasn’t willing to find out by reading anything she’d written me. I couldn’t afford to get wrapped up in her web. Not now, not ever again. It was better this way. We were better this way.
Without a doubt in my mind, I knew that she was living a full life, succeeding in every area. The thought turned my lips upward.
One won’t hurt.
I closed my eyes, hoping to get rid of the small voice in my head that reappeared every time my orbs landed on that fucking box.
Just one .
I lifted the book from my chest and dug in again. That box haunted me every fucking night but I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it. Neither could I bring myself to read any of them. I wished she’d stop wasting her precious time and keep pushing forward. But at the same time, if she ever stopped writing me, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. Her consistency was symbolic of so many things in my world at the moment.
One, Makai .
Sighing, I found myself staring at the box again. This time, the distance wasn’t separating us. I’d pulled it toward the bed where it sat, waiting for tampering. I folded the page of the book I was reading and placed it on my bunk, face down.
I can’t. I pushed the box away, battling my thoughts.
In the same breath, I pulled it back toward me.
Just one , I bargained, removing the very first letter I’d received from Glacier. There were twenty-one of them. The last one, I’d received during mail hour this morning.
The white envelope was burning a hole in my hand. Neatly opening it wasn’t an option. I tore into it with urgency, careful not to rip the letter inside. As it unfolded, I began to breathe again. Not any air, air that contained bits and pieces of her. It was the finest, purest, and most rewarding oxygen one could ever inhale.
Makai,
I’ve started this letter twelve times, wondering what I could possibly say to convince you that you’ve made a mistake. That our love is worth another try. That we deserve one another. That my life is nothing without you.
But I won’t write any of that. I won’t try to convince you of what’s right for you, your head, and your heart. That would be so unfair. In life, I’ve prided myself on fairness and I’ll remain this way—even with matters of my heart.
Doing what’s best for you will always have my vote. It’s important that we advocate for ourselves, our love, and our futures. A future with me isn’t one for you. I get that now. It’s taken me a full month to see it, but I’m here now.
I’m out of my element. I’m without you. And it sucks. It feels like so much of me is missing. So many times I touch my chest just to make sure my heart is still there, to make sure it’s still beating because it feels so broken. So battered. So bruised.
Today, I thought about vacation, the first time I understood the power of parallel souls. Your three things. Since you’ve been gone, so much has changed in my world. Things are different. I am different. So, here are three things I think you should know about me now:
My heart will never not want you.
You’ve gutted me.
My door is always open for you. It’s the blue one; the only teal one on the entire street. I made it that way so you’ll never lose your way on your quest to find your way back to me.
Bonus: If I’ve loved you once, I’ll love you forever.
I’m settling in a new city, at a new job, and in a new home. It’s as scary as it is lonely. I miss your body next to mine. I miss the sound of your voice first thing in the morning. I miss the smell of your breath in the early hours. I miss the way you laugh. I miss the way you love. I miss your hugs. I’ve washed my own body for too many weeks.
I don’t know, Makai. Most days, I think I’m okay, but I’m feeling so blue. The family you’ve given me has been such a blessing during this transition. None of this would’ve gone as smoothly as it did had they not rolled up their sleeves and helped me at every turn. I’m forever in debt to them, each and every one of them.
My grandmother is still in Berkeley. My visits will be few and far apart, but I will make the trips every now and again. Leaving her behind was so difficult, but uprooting her in the condition she was in was not the best idea. I weighed the pros and cons. Ultimately, I couldn’t.
Midnight and Ghost are loving the new yard. It’s barely a matchbox in comparison to what they’re accustomed to, but they're happy. Knowing that I still have parts of you, although I can’t have all of you, makes me happy too.
I ran out of words four paragraphs ago but admittedly, it’s so hard to stop this pen from publishing what’s on my mind so that I don’t have to explain what’s on my heart. I’m a mess, Makai.
Take care,
Mommas.
I folded the letter neatly and placed it back into the envelope it had come out of. The heat radiating from my body warmed the floor beneath me. When I stood to put the box back in its rightful place, the hot spot left on the floor was the perfect analogy for the fire that had been birthed inside of me.
Inhaling, I allowed my bottled emotions to escape momentarily. With every fiber in my being, I missed Glacier. Walking away from her left me ill for weeks—physically, mentally, and emotionally. Reading the very first letter she’d written confirmed what I’d already known. I wasn’t alone.
I miss you… Like every day… That one Beyoncé song had replayed in my head for six months straight. Every day, all day. It repeated itself in my head.
Wanna be with you, but you’re away… Glacier and I could both relate to the words. Glacier and I were both experiencing the same pain.
I didn’t let the pain rot my insides and corrupt my thoughts for long. I laid down on the bottom bunk and reopened my book, hoping that one day, the emptiness associated with Glacier’s absence didn’t hurt so bad. Hoping that my wounds would heal themselves because I didn’t have the ability. I didn’t have the strength.
The fact that I was the person who ended us was all paradoxical. Shit, love was paradoxical. I understood very little, but felt so fucking much. It was bewildering. It was inexplicable. It was baffling.
Paradoxical
Adjective
Appearing absurd or self-contradictory
Synonyms include: illogical, confusing, absurd, incomprehensive
Thirty minutes into my read and the unit was still on lockdown. It had settled tremendously, most motherfuckers finally succumbing to their exhaustion. The silence was welcoming. It was the playground for a less than sound, less than sane mind. My thoughts roamed freely.
The sound of tightly strapped boots and tens of keys slapping against one another began, getting closer and closer with each passing second. My eyes landed on the metal that held the top bunk upright, remembering the man who had preceded us all in death. DJ was a solid, cool cat who had a massive heart attack in the dead of the night. I woke up to find him cold and stiff, eyes wide shut.
“Open eighteen!” the CO yelled.
“In here, Smith.”
Smith?
“I need you to behave yourself in here. If it was up to me, you’d be going to solitary, but what can I say? Got to follow orders. Either somebody behind the desk loves your Black ass or you’re having a stroke of good luck. Either way, this is where you’re housed from now on.”
Closing my eyes, I exhaled the breath I was holding, praying that Royce was working a bit harder than God to deliver a blessing He’d denied me of. I was enjoying isolation but the mission had yet to be completed.
Over the twenty-two-month span, I’d been in a cell with three different men, none of whom were the men I had requested the night I was processed into the system.
“Up. We have an incoming,” the CO called out, instructing me to get off the bed.
I followed orders, facing the wall and placing my hands behind my head without as much as a peep.
“You gon’ take these off me or what?”
I’d forgotten a million things in my lifetime but that voice, it was one that I’d never forget. It was the voice of the man who had caused havoc in the life of a woman who happened to have my heart in her possession. The warmer version. The ice-cold version was the one that brought a smile to my face. My lips stretched toward my ears as joy filled every inch of my being.
Royce. Fucking Royce . If there was no one else that could handle it, whatever it might be, Chem’s younger sister was a for sure thing.
“Close it up,” the CO instructed the operator in the control room.
My hands fell by my sides as I turned around to find Nelson standing in the middle of the room, looking like he was fresh out of the boxing ring. It became clear to me that he was the victorious party in the brawl that had us all locked down. The blood left his body as if he’d seen a ghost. I could almost bet he had, but it wasn’t mine. That motherfucker belonged to him.
Welcome to Doom’s Day .
“D-dog, let me apologize now so that we can both sleep without one eye open, looking over our backs and shit.”
“No one is sleeping tonight,” I promised him.
“That’s what you on? Nigga, it’s been two years.”
“It could’ve been twenty. I don’t make threats I don’t make good on.”
“That shit dead, man. I’m not on that type of time. Real shit.”
“Tell me, my guy, why is it that you’ll be dying tonight instead of getting to the fucking bag?”
Though I didn’t care to talk, the question had been circling my head since the day it all started.
“Because she couldn’t keep her fucking mouth closed. My preference and medical stats were nobody’s fucking business. You feel me?”
“She never divulged a single piece of information about you. Never. Where you stick your dick isn’t anyone’s business but now all of Berkeley will know because you can’t keep it in your pants. The difference between out there and in here… ain’t no bitches, my nigga.”
“She ne—she didn?—”
“All for nothing, which makes this shit even sweeter.”
Giving him little time to get himself together, with his belongings still in his hand I sent a nose-crushing uppercut straight to the chin. He was unable to recover before another blow struck his temple. The blood that spewed from his nose deterred me from hitting him in that area again.
Though Glacier hadn’t, he’d revealed his positive status with a few choice words. I exercised caution and put his big ass down with the second blow. His things were scattered all over the room. I pushed them aside with his body, dragging him to the toilet. I positioned his neck on the rim of the bowl before heading to the other side of the cell to retrieve the boots that sat in the corner. I slipped into the right one.
Contentment led my movements. Though fluid, they were made without haste. I savored every second of this moment. I wanted to relieve it four thousand times over. The exhilaration was addictive. It was liberating. It was gratifying.
WHAM .
One swift, strategic kick to the back of the neck ended his world. The forceful blow, in combination with the metal surface, crushed parts of his spine that were required to sustain life, sending him straight to the pits of hell where he belonged for fucking with one of God’s angels.
Retribution
Noun
Punishment inflicted on someone as vengeance for a wrongful, usually criminal, act
Synonyms include: penalty, fate, reckoning, recompense, vengeance, restitution
I slid my hand into the sliced mattress pad that had caused twenty-two months of back pain and retrieved the burner inside of it. I then fished the plastic bag from the sink to retrieve the battery pack and SIM card that had both only been used once for activation before being brought inside.
The number that was stitched in my brain, backward and forward, made it easy for my fingers to glide across the buttons without mistakes. After pressing the green button, I held the very top of the flip against my ear.
“Yeah?” Malachi answered the line.
After twenty-two months, it felt so fucking good to hear his voice.
“Now, you can come get me, nigga.”
“Say less.”